I know that I got Porcia's stepsons mixed up, but that was because this story started out as an inspiration from a role-play I did with my cousin ages ago where I had Porcia have her own son with the name Lucius which she falls pregnant with just before her husband dies, but I figured I better cut that part out… so I've changed the name back round, the boy with her is now Lucius. Now, originally I was going to have three different stories in this story but now, since they're all part of the same tale, they are now all together. Just to confuse you more, this was going to be two different chapters, but I merged it all together and separated all the parts with '…' ellipses. This is the last part in 'part 1' (that explains the '1' next to all the chapters) the next lot of chapters will be in third person, bringing in the other characters all over Rome. Vorenus and Pullo will be on soon.

I still don't own Rome and if I have to write the disclaimer one more time I'll go mad.

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Some 60,000 men walked onto the battlefield of Pharsalus to face Gaius Julius Caesar's 22,000 men—most of whom was made up of what little survived from the previous battles he fought and lost. They tell me that Mark Antony had tried to bring Caesar reinforcements, but they were lost at sea by a great storm, and what little have past that storm sailed slap bang into my husband Bibulus and his sons, Gnaeus and Marcus, who sank what was left of the fleet. People said I ought to be pleased at the time, but I cared very little for his victory as Bibulus was always an awful gloater. I sat alone in the house while the men of Pompey's camp sat in victory, gloating and drinking themselves into a stupor.

I spoke to Brutus about this victory, and he was as melancholy as I but not for the same reasons. While I feared that the numbers would be thrown back into our faces, Brutus was depressed at the fact that Caesar had been so tragically defeated. "He was as my father to me," he kept saying over and over as people asked what troubled him. "I know that this defeat of Caesar is a great victory, but I cannot enjoy it in the same manner as the other men in that camp. It is a bittersweet victory."

I started to wonder whether or not I would ever see Bibulus and his sons again. A part of me hoped that I wouldn't, I didn't want to see him nor his sons again… but when I received a letter from him from Egypt saying that he was on his way back now—I didn't ask why he was in Egypt but I knew why he was leaving—Marcus and Gnaeus were dead. When I saw that letter I fell backwards onto my 'bed', feeling terribly guilty. I thought about what I had told Brutus that time, that I hoped I'd never see them again, and it had come true. I admit that I wished Bibulus gone too, but a part of me was quite relieved that he wasn't dead, though I couldn't help but wonder how long it would be until he died also.

I admit it, I am very depressing at the moment—but that is because our reasons for being happy were over quite quickly. In my room, I spoke endlessly with Cornelia, Scribonia, my Lucius, and Cornelia's children little Pompeia and little Gnaeus. They asked us when the civil wars would be over, and Cornelia told them that it wouldn't be too long. I felt like saying that it might be some time yet… I had the feeling even then. For several days and nights we sat and waiting for Pompey's word… My father had scolded him by saying to him that to leave Caesar's armies to starve was dishonourable and that they should destroy what was left of Caesar and his armies 'under the eyes of Mars.' Scipio spat compliments down his ears, according to Brutus when he told me all of this. I said to him then: "I think they should just starve Caesar into defeat. As much as I agree with honour, I think a lot of lives can be spared if we just leave Caesar and his men to themselves, wait for his legions to desert."

"I have to say I agree," Brutus replied, still solemn in thinking of Caesar's doom. "I have a terrible, sickly feeling, that this is all going to go wrong. Think of how long Caesar survived in Gaul. Your father had campaigned like mad in the senate for him to bring his legions home rather then face that army of thousands; still Caesar remained in Gaul and defeated that army of thousands, eventually talking the land and riches of Gaul." He made a deep sigh and looked at me in his elusive way, "I'm starting to see what you said before."

I couldn't exactly remember what I had said until I looked over the pages of this diary. It turns out that Auntie Porcia was right when she said writing things down always helps you to remember the important stuff. As I look over these pages, I realise just how much I have spoke to my cousin Brutus, how much he has been a figure head in my life. I find myself thinking of the moments that are not written in this log, moments that happened when I did find time to write it down. I've come to think that if one recorded everything he said in the course of one day, you'd have all the material you need to make the optimistic drifter in any good play. I envied how Brutus could always drift through life, not wondering or even caring where he was going, or what he wanted. When he did want something though, he fought like what your run of the mill Roman would do, and fight like anything for it. He was strange—he still is strange—he's a man who doesn't seem to suit the basics of any society, rather like me really, not heartless and hard going as we Romans have taken the world on the bases of.

I suppose we both belong to a world that hasn't been founded yet. I wonder when that world will be founded—and when it is founded, would there be any wars. Certainly not about dictators or republics, not in my society, laugh if you will but I presume the great wars of my perfect world would be over what the different Greeks tell us. What I think would be very stupid is a war over something personal or unique to a society, like custom or religion, what point is there in such wars? They would be banned in my new world too. Frankly, I think that new world would be on that far off island somewhere with the books. The wars would be fought verbally, my friends and I against Brutus and his friends, arguing over teachings of stoicism, or something else ridiculous. The fights would never get very violent, and even if it did come to physical battle I wouldn't mind; I could take Brutus very easily, I've had to fight a lot more then him.

When I was little, I'm told for I do not remember, I had some something wrong—as I always seemed to do wrong—and Aunt Servilia in the way she did, grabbed hold of me, yanked me off my chair and dragged me away towards that damned cupboard he always confined me to. I kicked and screamed; I hit her hands trying to break her grasp on me. Finally, when she tried to stick me in that cupboard I bit her; she smacked me around the face and shut the cupboard. I banged on the door and screamed trying to open it. Tertia tells me that she took as chair and ordered her sewing to be brought to her so she might work by the cupboard side.

"You're not coming out until you're quiet!" she snapped through the door. I quickly became claustrophobic, and that made me beg her to open the door all the more, telling her that it was hard for be to breath, that I felt scared… I must have sounded so pathetic. "Say you're sorry!" she snapped through the door.

"I'm sorry!" I cried in desperation.

"You don't even know what you're sorry for, do you?" she replied.

I don't know today, and I didn't know then, so I just said what she wanted to hear: "I'm sorry for always doing wrong, for always letting you down, for always being so pathetic, for always complaining, I know I'm a waste and I should be disciplined… I beg you, let me out!"

"You need to be disciplined" she just said through the door in her calm and cool sounding voice, it felt like one of those cold snap winds in Winter hearing her through the white line of light I could see through the door of the closet. "So I'm leaving you here… I'd like to see how long you hold up." And I heard her walking off, and I quickly began trying to open the door myself. I didn't think to be quiet; she couldn't see me be quiet if she'd walked off. I just wanted to get out. I remember very little of that event, it's like all my childhood with Servilia was blotted out of my mind so I wouldn't have to think about it. I can recall the feels somewhere at the back of my mind and match them to the stories I've heard from my ever-so-understanding cousins Prima Secunda and Tertia.

It was Tertia who finally let me out, she had been passing by and had been distracted by the kicked and screaming coming from the cupboard. Apparently she had to move a chair to open the cupboard, it had been wedged against the handles so there was no wonder I couldn't get the doors open. Yet, even when she got the doors open I couldn't stop screaming. While I finally stopped screaming, I couldn't get my head around being out of the cupboard, I could barely tell where I was. Not knowing what to do, Tertia ran off to get her sisters, who all just gathered around me, staring at me like statues, whispering about what they could do with me. When they suggested getting their mother, I started screaming again. They got their brother in the end, and when regular 'shh' didn't shut me up, he grabbed me by my shoulders.

"Look at me" he said, "Look at me and do as I tell you." He made a fist out of his right hand, wrapped it in his other hand and placed them on his heart, "Do as I do…" he said, as I mimicked what he did. "Now just think about how quickly your heart is beating, that's what's making your chest hurt, and your breathing fast. Now take a deep breath and tell yourself that you're safe. That is your heart and it's in your hands, no one can take it away from you, no one can make it do things you don't want it to. It's yours, remember. Now tell yourself that you're safe, your heart is beating and you're safe."

"I'm safe," I replied, calming down, finally forgetting about his sisters staring eyes.

Maybe the reason I blotted my childhood out of my mind was because my mind doesn't like to admit that I was scared of Aunt Servilia as a child. I am old enough to stand up for myself now and too big to fit in that little cupboard the locked me in. That was the one thing I am glad I married Bibulus from, it took me away from my terrible childhood with Servilia and her spoilt daughters. Ever since then, I have had moments when I was scared and yet I never forgot that thing that Brutus taught me that day, and I use it every time I'm panicked. It always helped me calm down, partly because it made me feel safer but also because it made me think of him, and how he managed to calm me down even though I had been so scared. It was hard for some to imagine my cousin Brutus being someone who taught me how to stay calm in a crisis. It's amazing how the little things work, isn't it?

Nights went by so quickly, I felt scared as the day went by and Pompey wondered what to do. It was like we were all over hanging over a cliff, and Caesar was getting ready to push us all over into the rocks, stones and waters below out feet. I kept trying to tell myself that it was alright, but I worked myself into such a panic as always. Then, on the field of Pharsalus, while both sides expected Pompey to win, the armies of the Optimates faced Caesar's small army. Pompey paced around his tent as my father, Brutus, Cicero, Scipio and several others, including Cassius, sat and tried to pass time. All of a sudden, he spoke up turning to his slave: "Send to Rome," he said in his country-like way, "Tell them the decisive battle begins today."

Pompey readied himself for the battle, as did all the other men, all fought in this battle against Caesar. It was an act of honour. I feared for my father who has not fought in years, and was not a great a soldier as my great-great-grandfather, the Censor. My father was the Philosopher. My brother came to see me with Brutus and Cicero to tell us the wonderful news. I felt as if I was going to be sick, a terrible omen had told me that many men would die today and I dreaded to think who they would be. This could be a final goodbye for all I knew. I clasped myself to my brother tightly, for though he was a disgrace to what we of the Porcii value so much, he was my brother and I couldn't help loving him. Yet, as I hugged him I realised that he didn't seem of endless drinking and he certainly wasn't drunk. I would have thought that being such a danger and yet celebration, he would have drunk more, even for him. But as he stood in front of me now, he was sober.

"You haven't been drinking?" I said straight and frankly, I hated beating about the brush, like most women do. He smiled and shook his head and my eyes widened, "Why, or rather, how?"

"Because, I don't know, something hit me in what you and father said before, saying I was a disgrace. I found myself looking in the mirror, and finally, I could see what you could all see. I was a mad man with his wine flask…" he took my hands and smiled, "You are worth ten of me, you're worth ten of a normal person, so you must be worth a million of what I am. I know it will be hard, and I know I'll trip up at points, but I will make myself a worthy brother of you. If I'm to die today, then I intend to do it sober. If I come back, I will follow in our great-great-grandfather's steps as father has done."

"You've become a stoic?" I said, close to laughter at the very idea.

"No, I'm far too selfish to become a stoic," Marcus replied, laughing also. His breath was clean, smelling of the poor foods of war, but at least it wasn't wine. "I will be a soldier. I could never be a philosopher like father, or adore the teachings of the Greeks like you and Cousin Brutus. I intend to make myself a worthy brother of you, and a worthy son of Cato."

I smiled, "You'll have to eat more porridge."

He laughed, "I've grown to like it since I started washing it down with water." He took my hands and looked seriously at me, "I am serious, Porcia. I don't deserve a sister like you, but it's time you did become my little sister rather then my keeper. I will do right by you and father, I swear to Dis I will."

I held his hands tightly in mine; fighting back the tears that wanted to break loose from my eyes. I kept them back, however I wished to speak my mind no matter how un-stoic it was what I said: "I love you, brother. Bellona protect you, please come back safe."

He embraced me in the brotherly way he had denied me for the twenty years of my life I had been his sister. He finally broke away and smiled, turning to Brutus, "I'll see you down stairs." As he left, I wondered if I would indeed see he who was my brother again.

I then turned to the cousin who I might never see again. I felt a painful tug at my heart; I thought it would be natural, it was the fear of losing a family member who I feel so close to… but, I don't know, it was something else. I can't remember saying anything, but I embraced him and let him go. I don't understand this tugging pain I'm experiencing. It feels as if, as if something is wrong with my heart, it isn't bad like when Caesar's grandfather died of a sudden heart attack just because he couldn't reach his shoes. I suppose the feeling is just strange because I've never felt it before... It must just be fear, fear of what is going happen. Something about the way my brother and cousin were behaving, as if this was a last goodbye…

I wanted to cry… First time in many years, I know, but I did… I wanted to cry and I don't even know or understand why. I suppose it might not be instinct or fear, maybe it's suppose to be a real sickness I'm catching. But then, I've never read about such symptoms in all the books I've read, and I've read a lot. Maybe, this is just a fear or feeling that I have to come to terms with on my own.

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Some 60,000 men walked onto the battlefield of Pharsalus to face Gaius Julius Caesar's 22,000 men—recall this day for many years to come, tell it in history books, teach it to your children, mark this tragic day in the books of history and tell of the tale of how Pompey's 60,000 men became from blood in the mud and how Caesar's 22,000 men rolled up the line like a tapestry spreading out from the top of a temple. I only know what happened from what I heard, which may be wrong but—Pompey thought that he could make his move on Caesar without him noticing, but whatever this plan of tactic was, Caesar saw what was happening and sent Antony to out to slam straight into Pompey's left flank, picking off each man one by one from the side, knocking them over like toppling pillars. Pompey and his armies turned and fled, while most others returned to the camp, the forces of the republic had fallen, history will remember this day, I am sure…

Scribonia came rushing into me in a fit of fear to tell the news; her beautiful dark blonde hair was a tangle of rats' tails, her eyes full of water and fear. The women in the household moved their children about as if they were sheep. Scribonia grabbed my hand and dragged me alone, "Your father has been wounded, Porcia! Your brother asks you to come quickly!" she cried.

"Where is your sister-in-law Cornelia?" I asked quickly, "Where are the children you're your Uncle Pompey?"

"I don't know!" she said, trying to keep calm, "My husband, my husband tells me that he's waiting for word from Metellus Scipio before I can know what to do. I assume Cornelia and the children have already fled with Pompey. Oh, Porcia… go to your father and find out what on earth is happening!"

I rushed as fast as I could to the camp where my father was—I feared that when I got there I would see faces of my family missing, my friends… would Cicero be there, would Scipio be, would Cassius, or my brother… or Brutus? I feared the worst, failing to keep it out of my head, the possibility that they won't be there when I go to look. As I swiftly past the slaves and guards to enter then construction that was once Pompey's, I discovered them, all of them. I gasped a deep breath of relief, and seeing my brother alive was a great relief though oddly enough, the relief that Brutus was alive comforted me the most.

"Thank goodness," I found myself saying without thinking, catching their attention, "I thought you were all dead and thank the gods you're not."

"Comprehend, girl!" the gruff old voice of my father said from the corner of the room, seated, his leg being bandaged by a slave. I rushed over to him and wrapped by arms around him, I can't understand at all why, I just did. He flinched a little in my grasp, "What are you doing, girl? Let me go, this is weak even for a woman to do. Stop it now! I asked you here to treat my wound; they say you have a good hand for this sort of thing. Get fresh water!"

I let him go and rushed off to find some water, behind me I heard Cicero yell. I fetched the water from the caldron left alone on the fire by the soldier who fled, what few remained were far away from me and the fire. I returned to the room and found them still arguing. I handed the water to the slave and between us we cleaned my father's wound. It wasn't a deep cut, but it looked painful, but father in his stoic way would never admit that.

Cicero stood from his chair desperately snapping, "Our forces are outted, now what are we going to do?"

"We will fight another day, I have no doubt. But now we must look to our safety…" Scipio began.

"Our safety is nothing!" father snapped, as I moved away leaving the slave to put the fresh bandages, I decided that I should go and rip up some new piece of cloth to stop the bleeding. I had learnt after all this time during these civil wars to treat the hardest of wounds, and I was used to the ripping of cloth by this time. I was just about to go back in when I heard my father speak again: "…we are not beaten until we are dead!"

"You may do as you like," I heard Cicero reply, "As for me, I will go from here and surrender to Caesar." I felt my heart leap—Caesar would kill him, and surrender was the greatest of all Roman dishonours, how could he think of it?

As it turns out my father thought the same as he spat: "Have you no dignity? No honour?"

"Some little, I hope," Cicero retorted in his careless manner, he paused and made a great sigh, "Not so much as you, of course. But, I'm not afraid of death… I'm tired. I want to go home."

I lay my head against one of the wooden pillars, wondering what Caesar would do to him and those others who would chose to hand themselves over to Caesar. I wasn't sure whether I cared or not until someone else was ready to agree with Cicero's notion: "My feelings exactly." My head and eyes shot to attention when I heard my cousin say that, and heard my father spout out about the republic. Oh, the republic, the republic, everyone thought it was the republic that Brutus should care about when it came to politics. I knew better though… it made his mind overload, and it did so here. He stood instantly and snapped, "Do not talk to me of the republic. If I had known what awful company I'd have to put up with, and what an old fool is Pompey, I would never have left Rome!"

Suddenly, I felt very angry; did I count as that awful company? Because if it did then he was accusing me of being boring; looking back on it, I feel stupid caring more about what he thought of my company then the fact that we were defeated and some people were giving up. But my father didn't… and you know something? I wanted to give up too. As I walked away from listening into what they were talking of, I felt so overwhelmingly tired. It was the same feeling that Cicero felt no doubt, the boring feeling of this senseless war. I had books at home, and people who didn't think I was boring. Oh, how dare he call me awful company! Ecastor! Why should I care what he thinks?

Let me stop my writing here as I await word from them all… they tell me that Caesar is slowly moving in to our camp. Those who are leaving will leave; those who surrender will surrender. Around me now, the women stick behind their men, wave tearful goodbyes, gather their children to their skirts and rush away. I sit here and await where I go… and what if father had forgotten me and fled away, leaving me to be captured? I must make a choice on whether I leave or whether I say.

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Today, I was one of the only women left in the household. I awoke to find the place bare except for me and a few others. They sat in fear in the atrium of the house; there I discovered Lucius sitting with them, shaking in terror. He knew there was something wrong, I know he did… but he was also crying, over something that had nothing to do with the war. I looked over, searching for a face I could ask—my hearted pounded with relief—Scribonia was still there! She looked at me nervously; I knew she was going to speak: "Porcia, mea dulcis… I have terrible news. Bibulus is dead."

At that moment, I felt no emotion whatsoever… I was sorry that he was dead but not surprised. He was a very old man; he had been a very old man all my life and that was all he ever was to me. I was given to him when I was twelve, just a little girl. He had never been a husband, more like an adopted father… and I feel no sorrow that he is gone though I am sorry he was dead. "That's awful… how?"

Scribonia was puzzled by my relaxed nature to it but quickly knew better, Porcia didn't cry like that: "His heart went on his way here, when he found out about the defeat, his heart just gave up."

"Well, we all must die; at least he was old and had lived his life unlike his two sons," I said calmly, "Poor Bibulus… I hope his funeral was decent."

"It was, so they tell me" Scribonia replied.

"Good."

I then stood and walked outside. The clouds were falling over us; it looked as if it might snow soon. I was cold and I shivered as I wrapped my shawl around myself. I heard the footsteps on the crunching long grass. I turned my head to see Brutus and Cicero making their way over. Cicero was so short that he was almost lost in the grass, and no doubt wanted to hold on to Brutus so he wouldn't get lost. I folded my arms and waited for them to come. Once they were on the dusty path, they were much better at walking—Cicero stumbled a little as he made it to the edge of the slop but quickly rushed on after Brutus.

"Come to say goodbye?" I asked straight.

"We came to say goodbye" Cicero said catching up, "And to offer our sorrow over your loss."

"Bibulus and so forth" Brutus added in.

"We are deeply sorry" Cicero finished.

I nodded, "Thank you… but I'm quite alright, he had a long life and naturally I'm sorry he died. But I had little affection for him because we were never fully man and wife, as much as he was an adopted father."

Cicero nodded along, "Yes, well it is only natural; he was old enough to have been your grandfather."

"He was old enough to be my grandfather" Brutus pointed out.

"Quite, quite," Cicero said nodding breathlessly, "But Bibulus' death was nonetheless a great loss to the senate, and to Rome."

"He will be missed," I replied, nodding along.

"Yes" Brutus said nodded along, it seemed as if he wanted to burst into laughter at our wordless conversation. Truth was, I had told him once that when it came to Cicero, though he was a man of a thousand words I could never think of what to say to him. I fact, I ran out of things to say. Brutus decided to break the silence, "I suppose you've heard that we intend to surrender ourselves to Caesar."

"Yes, it came up" I replied casually.

"The civil war is over, and I'm willing to accept the punishment for the crime" Cicero replied nobly, "My day on this chapter of history is done…" I looked at him and Brutus, over come with a great emotion, and I had forgotten why I was angry at my cousin. Cicero interrupted my trace, "You think we're cowards, don't you?"

I focused my mind back and shook my head, breaking a small smile, "No… I think you're both the bravest of them all. It takes a brave man to go on fighting after a defeat , and it takes an even braver man to take his life once defeat his sure, but it takes an even braver man to accept defeat and face the enemy no matter what the consequence is." I walked forwards and gave Cicero a small embrace, "Good luck to you, wise Cicero."

He stumbled a little once I let him go; he truly was tired, dying to lie down: "Thank you, Porcia. You truly are the most extraordinary woman in Rome as well as the noblest."

"Thank you, Cicero" I replied with a smile, "May the gods be with you," I looked up to Brutus, "Both of you."

Cicero turned to leave, I too turned to go back into the house…but Brutus stayed put, turning back to him he called to the older man, "You go on ahead Cicero and I'll catch you up."

I turned back to face Brutus as we watched Cicero leap into the grass fields and drag his feet through them. He turned his head back to me and began talking straight away, "Your father and Scipio have fled to Africa with the remaining troops and Pompey has fled to Egypt with Cornelia and the children, you must tell Scribonia that Salvito will be here to meet her and the children shortly, they're returning to Rome… Metellus Scipio fears for Salvito's life." I could understand that… Salvito was his only son and he relied on him to keep the family in order. I nodded and promised I would do as he said, he went on: "Quintus and your brother are coming here for you."

"That's nice of them… and what about Lucius?" I asked, folding my arms, reliving the anger at being called awful company. "I must think of him before I think about anything else."

"That's why I'm here" Brutus said quickly.

"I thought you came here to say goodbye and to offer your fake commiserations."

"Oh, come now… you don't seriously expect me to believe that your commiserations are any more sincere then mine," he judged. He folded his arms too, as if we were two politicians having a good argument. "You have an affectionate nature Porcia but in truth you feel no emotion over this death, just pity."

"So what is that is true?" I questioned, "Bibulus never gave me reason to love him, he was a good man and I'm sorry he's dead, but I cannot mourn because there is no love to mourn for. Father taught me when I was young that love is for the weak, and that the stoics don't love."

Brutus raised his eyebrows and shook his head, "There is nothing in Zeno that says we are not allowed to love. The stoic belief preaches that we are all equal as humans, tells us to remember that those slaves are not our equal, as humans we must be good to them, to maintain our emotions and keep hold of a passions be they be love, angry or hate… but never does it say that we must not feel love, anger or hate."

"You didn't suppress your anger last night when we stated that you found the company here awful, did you?" I said, his mind realising that I had heard everything that had been said. I sighed, trying not to sound too bothered though I was, "Am I really that awful to be around? You said that you preferred my company to the others, so hate to think how awful they must have been…"

"You have it all wrong, Porcia" he replied quickly, holding out his hands defensively, "I was referring to Cicero, Cassius, Scipio, Pompey and others, not you; you're the only one who I could tolerate in this camp, if it weren't for you I'd have gone mad long ago. I swear that insult wasn't at all directed to you."

I suddenly felt so much better, it was nice to have had him defensively praise my company and I accepted it quickly, "Thank you… that's nice to know. You were the one thing keeping me sane too; I'm glad you were here, Brutus, it was nice to talk to someone with brain cells." I sighed and looked at him, "Why have you come here?"

"To ask you to surrender yourself too," he replied quickly. I felt a pang in my chest, I don't really know why. "Whatever Quintus and your brother have in their minds, your place is back in Rome; his place is back in Rome. I came here really to ask if you will surrender."

I'm ashamed to admit that I wanted to, I wanted to return to Rome and do the normal things again… but I'd he going against my own father, he would never forgive me if I returned to Rome. I took his hands and said, "I'm needed here, father would be ashamed if I returned to Rome, gave in to Caesar. I can abandon my father…" I paused, "But I agree that Lucius' place is in Rome, which is why I will leave him with Scribonia since she is returning to Rome also."

He nodded, still holding my hands, rubbing his thumbs over my knuckles, "I still think your place is in Rome with the rest of your family…"

"Is that really why you think I should go back?" I asked curiously, "Because you think I belong in Rome with the rest of the women? Or is there another reason?"

He sighed, "I just think that staying here will do you no good, your father is selfish to make you think that you ought to stay. I think you should go home."

I moved forwards and hugged him, feeling tears well up in my eyes and course down my cheeks, "I'll miss you too… but it's something I have to do. I can't just go back to Rome and face the gloating faces of Atia and the others back in Rome. I know it will be worse once my father is defeated but at least I won't return to Rome feeling like I've abandoned him," still holding on to him tight and paused, something inside me was really hurting, "But I will miss you, and I hope that the trails of staying out here won't will me."

Why does it hurt so much to part with him of all people? I dare say that I am fonder of him then I am of other people, I always have been. Ever since I was very young, I never felt anyone could understand how alone and vulnerable I felt, except him. Now I feel completely lonely, and regret that I have stayed here, fleeing with just my brother and that awful Quintus Pompey. I let Lucius return with Scribonia, and Marcia has also given up and returned home; like Brutus she asked me to come to but once again I refused. It wasn't really that I didn't want to… it was just that I didn't want to, I desperately wanted to go home to Rome with Brutus, Cicero, Cassius, Scribonia and the others, but my duty to my father is greater then my own desires, and my desires I am ashamed to admit to, even on this page. I wish I could find the courage to write how I truly felt about be duty.

I don't think I have to write down anyway, whom ever reads this will know exactly how I feel and what I can't bring myself to write.

…

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Well, that's the end of part 1. Now I'm off to revise for this big exam week I have… Part 2 will start soon and Vorenus and Pullo are coming in.