A/N- Yes, I am alive.


The only time Caroline regretted serving in the army of the Roman Empire was when she and her battalion were travelling.

It did not matter how well trained the soldiers were, how fiercely they stood side-by-side in battle, because when it came to peacefully moving from one point to another, it was barely organized chaos.

And when they were escorting the Emperor himself?

Caroline had barely finished informing her men that they'd be escorting the Imperial family to their summer villa when a proconsul she had never met had stormed up to her and shouted in her face that he would be in charge of organizing everything.

She'd merely stepped backwards and brought her fist to her chest, saluting him.

When he turned his back on her, she saw that his toga was clean to the point where he must travel everywhere by litter.

She assumes that he is the son of a senator, or a family member who was looking to catch the Emperor's eye and rise through the political ranks.

One who knew the theory of organising a battalion, perhaps the rules and the regulations but had no idea how quickly those could fall apart at the merest hint of an obstacle.

She feels almost sorry for him.

Until she hears that he'd ordered that no camp followers were to be allowed to travel with the battalion.

Camp followers; the wives, prostitutes and merchant people who fell in with the army, the ones who provided beyond the obvious services but also brought a bit of civilisation to the campsite.

Caroline tended to avoid the wives and prostitutes, because she needed to be seen as a soldier, not another woman, but she appreciated the importance they and the merchants had to the battalions.

They were often the ones with the best experience and understanding of how a battalion would fare in unfamiliar territory or in the change of seasons and whether the rations they'd been allocated would be enough. They carried with them supplies of wine and delicacies that the army would not provide and that the soldiers would gladly pay for.

And, in the event of battle, they were often unofficial scouts, spies, and physicians, without which many more soldiers would have lost their lives.

Even if the battalion was only travelling from Rome to Capri, without the camp followers, there would be more work for her and the proconsul keeping the men out of the nearest taverna or away from the wives of the senators and high-ranking families that would inevitably follow the Emperor on his holiday.

Still, she could not intercede on their behalf, not without looking weak.

Though, that was not to say that she did not have Enzo quietly tell the followers to prepare for travel regardless of the orders and ensure that they had a tradesman willing to guide them to Capri, for when they were inevitably called upon.

Her other issue was Niklaus' sister, Rebekah.

She had somehow convinced the slaves to carry her litter down to the barracks with the excuse that she wished to consult with her about who would be travelling with the Emperor, whether he would be in a litter or a chariot.

Simple questions that she could have asked any of the several of the consuls, proconsuls, or even the slaves packing the chests and received the correct answer.

Instead, Caroline had come back from Neptune's temple to find the Imperial daughter surrounded by soldiers, looking very satisfied as she flicked her golden tresses over her shoulder.

She had had to force her way through the crowd, all of whom had been deaf and blind to anyone not the Imperial daughter, whom she had had Enzo walk to Elijah's villa, under the instructions to quickly inform her older brother to keep a close eye on his innocent little sister.

Warning the sentries at the barrack gates to keep out the Lady Rebekah and any other high ranking young woman who had no cause to be there, Caroline returns to the Palatine, her mind filled with the tasks she would have to accomplish before her soldiers set out in the morning.

She had been spending her days with her men, training, planning, drinking in the evenings although none of them had returned to the tavernas since the incident with Niklaus.

One of many, she thinks to herself, irritation making her skin itchy.

Who would have thought her return to Rome would be so disastrous?

Such an abundance of inauspicious events that had been plaguing not only her, but those around her.

For years, her life outside of battles had been monotonous, every day the same in a manner that would have been boring to anyone whose family had not been executed for treason and wanted only a life of peace.

Now? She tallies her recent bouts of bad luck, starting with last night and working back to Alexandria, to the assassination attempt by the Pharaoh herself, one not of political gain but of petty jealousy and the misguided belief that she was a competitor for Elijah's heart.

Perhaps she had been ill-wished or even cursed?

She reaches for her talisman, pressing her thumb and index finger against the silver until they ache from the strain, reciting prayers for protection to Neptune in her mind.

Would that be enough however?

Not to doubt her god, but if her bad luck had begun in Egypt, should she not seek the aid of Egyptian magic?

She seeks out Elijah, finding him in his study in the midst of a sulk, as he had been every day since they had been informed that they were travelling to Capri.

Rome was the epicenter of knowledge for a man unable to live within the Library of Alexandria. The greatest minds lived within the city, and they would not be journeying with them to the Emperor's villa by the sea.

Nor could he take the entirety of his works and reading with him, instead, he would have to choose which of his texts he would be forced to part with for the summer.

It had put him- and consequently, the asp- in the foulest of moods.

Still, he had sworn himself her friend and she had need of his intellect right now.

Though she had not anticipated that he would be so brusque,

"You have not been cursed or ill-wished or any other foolish notion you have," he snaps,

"Do you think that my wife would have allowed you to leave Egypt's shores on my ship if you had been magicked with bad luck? Nor would her priestesses in Rome allow one who resided in my villa to be cursed, not if it were of risk to me."

"Perhaps this magic is beyond her detection?" Caroline suggests sourly, not out of doubt for the skills of the Pharaoh or priestesses of Isis in this regard, merely to argue with Elijah out of annoyance for his current animosity towards all things living,

"What is happening is not the work of magic or curses, it is the work of Rome, which for all its achievements, remains a swamp filled with power-hungry factions who would burn the world to ash so they could rule over the ruins. Ansel has personal enemies and ideological ones who do not hate him so much as they hate the rule of an Emperor and would see us return to the days when the Senate elected the leaders."

He throws down the parchment he was perusing with a huff of irritation,

"Furthermore, have you considered that you are not the one at fault here? Many of the situations you attribute to your bad luck are those where the intended recipient of the ill fortune is my brother, you merely suffer the consequences of being in his vicinity."

Though his words are sensible, Caroline does not care for his tone, which is churlish and reprimanding, as if she is a child wasting his precious time.

"I thank you for your words of comfort," she says politely but with a cold tone to match his heated one, "I shall take my leave."

She bows her head sharply and turns on her heel, striding from the room and pretending that she does not hear when he calls her name.

Perhaps she is beginning to overstay her welcome, Enzo was entreating her to join her men in the barracks, where they could protect and watch over her.

The only reason she had yet to do so was her enjoyment of having a cubiculum to herself, though she had always had her own tent when travelling in the army- because of her sex and not her rank- thin material was not enough to keep the noise of the world at bay. She knew all too well which of her men snored and which slept poorly, she knew what it was to be awoken too early in the morning because one of her men could not sleep and tossed and turned loudly.

She was growing overused to the comfort of civilian life, if she were not careful, she would one day put down her sword and never pick it up again.

Yet, was there a point to moving to the barracks when her possessions were already packed for travel, they were leaving so soon, surely it would be more trouble than it was worth?

And did she wish to be so far from Niklaus? Even if she feared her feelings for him, even if she did not wish to see him, her heart still ached at the thought of being separated from him and she started at the sound of unfamiliar footsteps in Elijah's villa.

With a sigh, she drops onto her couch and runs her hands through her hair.

Perhaps Elijah was right to treat her like a fool, she certainly felt like one.


The day before they were due to leave, Caroline was awoken by Enzo who had come to fetch her with the warning that disaster was looming on the horizon, rising faster than the morning sun.

The proconsul who had declared himself in charge of organising her battalion, the one who was to oversee their movement and station in Capri had made an utter mess of everything. He had failed to order the correct supplies, failed to provide them with a place to be billeted and from what Enzo could determine, had not managed to perform a single task correctly.

Caroline had lost count of the number of times that she had sought out this proconsul only to have him refuse an audience with her, even refusing to answer her missives or even provide any reports on the status of preparations.

Now, she understood why at least.

She reaches the garrison at the same time as the news that, fearing repercussions for his foolishness, he had fled Rome.

Presumably heading north instead of south towards the sea.

This left her not only with the dissatisfaction of being unable to show this idiot her anger but also the burden of having to try and rectify his mistakes.

Which could not be done in a single day.

And as the day rapidly disappeared with her list of tasks only seeming to grow, suspicion began to weigh in her stomach, on her mind and coil up her spine.

"This cannot be coincidence or mere accident," she murmurs to Enzo, as she looks down at the map before her,

"If the tasks had only been half-completed or half-neglected I would have understood yet, absolutely nothing was achieved? How did this go unknown for so long?"

He shook his head, "Our men relied on you to see that we were ready, you were the only one with the authority to ask and with the proconsul ignoring you…"

"I assumed he ignored me because of his arrogance, because I was a woman, yet I trusted him to see the work done…clearly I was wrong to do so."

"Seriously?!" she bursts out, spinning on her heel and pacing in frustration,

"I understand that the Emperor has enemies but in the army? To whom do we owe allegiance if not him? None of our generals have demanded our loyalty beyond what is to be expected, who is it that wants to endanger him and why?"

Enzo shrugged, "I know less the machinations of Rome than you, tell me what is to be done and I shall follow your orders."

She looks down at the parchment that has been marred with ink as they sought to solve their problems until it resembled a field ridden over repeatedly by the cavalry.

"Fetch the camp followers," she said decisively, "Every merchant, whore, wife and child who has ever walked in our shadow and put them to work, we shall not have enough supplies to last us a day without them. Beg, borrow and steal whatever we lack from other battalions, we are escorting the Emperor so whatever mission they need their supplies for is surely less important than ours. I am going to find Proconsul Alaric, he will oversee our battalion if I have to intercede with the Emperor to make him do so."

She ran her fingers through her hair, digging them into her scalp in frustration,

"I shall have to speak to the Emperor, let him know this has happened."

Enzo nodded, "What of our men? They believe we are departing tomorrow."

Tomorrow.

She moved to the doorway, looking up to see the sky turning violet as the day ended. Tomorrow was nipping at their heels like a hungry dog.

"We do not have a choice," she murmurs to herself, before turning back to him,

"If the emperor's enemies wish us to remain in Rome, then I see that we have no choice but to depart as we had planned, as we would have done if all had been well."

Enzo pales, his eyebrows shooting up as he considers her words,

"You cannot be serious," he remarks, to which she can only shrug.

"We have ridden without supplies before, we have ridden hungry and cold, with no idea where we would sleep the next night."

"Not with the imperial family amongst us we did not."

"We get them to Capri, we get them to safety," she argues, "Whoever his enemies are, they do not have the army with them or they would have used it to depose him already, clearly they move in the crowds, hoping to remain hidden, so when he and his family are in Capri with only men we know and trust? They shall be safe."

He releases a ragged exhale, "You ask me to achieve Herculean tasks and without even the mercy of a full day to do so."

She clasps him on the shoulder, "I do not ask anything of you that I would not do myself."

"You ask too much of yourself as well," he counters whilst offering her a gentle smile,

"If it is within my power as a man, I shall achieve it, for you and you alone."


To complicate matters further, the emperor had decided to host a dinner that evening, a raucous event filled with anyone who could claim kin or friendship to the family and every senator in Rome.

He was attempting to portray fearlessness to Rome and the world, that he was choosing to spend the summer by the sea for comfort and rest.

However, on the Palatine, the streets, in the temples, senate, marketplaces and tavernas of Rome, the consensus amongst all was that the emperor was not going south to enjoy the peace of the sea but to put distance between himself and his enemies who hunted members of his family like a lion stalking its prey.

Caroline returned to Elijah's villa only long enough to dress herself in a tunic and stolla before hurrying to his villa, storming right through the atrium and snatching up the first goblet she can find to slake her thirst and wash the dust of the streets from her mouth.

She drains it dry and leaves it on the ground as she hurries through to the triclinium, running her eyes over every person she encounters and dismissing them just as quickly until she recognises her quarry.

"I must speak with you," she calls as she approaches Proconsul Alaric, barely finishing her salute, "Immediately."

She does not make a habit of addressing him in such a manner unless they are on a battlefield, in the midst of fighting and he seemingly notes this, taking her by the elbow and marching her to the garden, by the fountain where they will not be overheard.

She relays the situation to him in almost one breath, feeling a sense of relief when she has finished speaking.

"You were right to act as you did," he tells her, "And I will gladly oversee your battalion. If there is no home for the soldiers, we shall make a camp on the open fields if we have to, or in the halls of the emperor's villa if it would keep him safe."

He puts a hand on her shoulder, "You have done your duty for the moment, I will speak to the Emperor now, you may take a moment to rest.

Rest.

Though she had known that she had been on her feet all day, working hard to try to overcome the obstacles facing her, she had not felt the consequences until the proconsul told her to rest.

Now, her legs felt weak, as if she had been swimming in the sea and her back felt as if she had been carrying a heavy weight for hours.

She sinks onto the rim of the fountain and closes her eyes, tilting her head back as a breeze managed to filter weakly through the garden. She could hear music and voices yet could ignore them freely until a familiar pair of footsteps approached her.

"This must be a trick of the gods," Niklaus intoned and she opened her eyes lazily to observe him as he stood above her,

"Caroline Forbes has not sat still long enough to be caught in conversation by the emperor or myself in days now," he continues,

"You must be an illusion or an oceanid wearing her face as a means to draw us into the fountain to drown."

She knows she should move away, a shred of anxiety twists in her stomach, doubting her own strength and resolve around him, yet it is soothed by the relief still coursing through her veins, the knowledge that by tomorrow evening, he and his family would be safe by the sea.

So, she allows herself this moment of foolishness to reach up and take his hand, smiling as she turns it over to kiss his palm,

"I will never let you drown," she promises him, her voice sweetly tender, "I swear on Neptune and any god that asks it of me that I always will do whatever it takes to see you safe."

She turns his hand over and kisses his finger where his ring would sit if he were emperor, as he would be one day with her as his most faithful ally.

She would serve him with utmost loyalty and wipe away the stain from her family name.


A/N- Thanks for reading