Notes: this is one of the ficlets I wrote for a series of mine, called Half Off the Ground. Caius, the main character, is having a hard enough time being homosexual and in love with a demi-god of love and war, without being half-god, half-mortal himself and not being aloud to let anybody know. Through in the mix of never knowing weather he’s going to wake up in modern times where he’s practically hated by people in school, or in Ancient Rome where he’s heir to the throne, and you’ve got one hell of a crazy life.

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Caius wanted to push the statue out the window. He hated it. The way it looked at him, like it was admonishing him. What did his ancestors know of his life, anyway. It wasn’t his fault he was stuck in this room, with nothing but a bust of some long dead, old fart glaring at him like it had nothing better to do.

And now, he wanted to run out into the hallway. He wanted to burst into the Curia Julia, and in front of the entire Senate, ask Gracianus where he got the nerve to order the prince to not leave his chambers. The heir to the throne himself, who would become Ceasar as soon as his father died. The father that was currently loosing strength as the days passed.

Not that Caius wanted his father to die. In fact, if Marcus wasn’t so happy with his soldier life-style, Caius would be ready and willing to hand all power over to his older half-brother without a second thought. But Caius wasn’t too keen on the military having the run of the country, even if it was only limited.

So that brought him back to his original thought. What was he doing here, and if he was so powerful, why couldn’t he even get the guts to toss that damned statue. If he was lucky, the retard that had carved the thing in the first place would be standing underneath when it fell. That would save everybody a bit of agony.

“You shouldn’t get so fuming mad,” said a voice behind him. “Anger is bad for the complexion.”

“Oh like you care,” Caius grumbled, not bothering to look around from where he was seated at the window.

Nikolas wasn’t Caius’ oldest friend, but he was certainly his best. Niko was tall and muscular, with a long dark hair and dark eyes. That, combined with the straight nose, high-raised cheekbones, and dark complexion, the young man looked far more the Roman prince than Caius ever would. Which was strange, since Niko was completely Greek, while Caius was almost totally Roman.

“I do care,” Niko said, grinning. “Besides, it’s strange enough that you look like a Northerner, without having a blotchy, red face to go with it.”

“Oh, don’t remind me,” Caius groaned, turning back to look out the window over the city. “You see that building there? Do you know what the building is?”

A slender finger pointed out over the roofs, to a particularly tall, white building. Niko looked for a moment, before turning back to his friend.

“The Curia Julia,” he answered.

“That’s right. And do you know what the Senate is discussing right now?” Caius asked.

Niko shook his head. Sometimes Caius wondered how much his dark-haired friend faked innocence. Surely, Niko had heard the talk. It was all the rage, the criticism of the week.

“They’re debating weather to make me get married. And they get to choose who I get to choose from,” Caius said sharply.

“Already?” Niko asked, looking at Caius dumbfounded. “But you’re only fifteen!”

“Not ‘only’,” Caius said. “most people around here are married at the age of fourteen. But since my father is sick, they have decided to take the marriage into their own hands. Because they think he’s incapable of doing it, themselves.”

“Hm,” was the only noise that came out of Niko. “Wouldn’t your mother be the one in charge, then?”

Caius shrugged. “Actually,” he said, “I was left in the charge of Senator Gracianus. The other’s have decided that means the rest of the Senate, too.”

The two of them sat in silence for a minute, Niko staring at something behind Caius.

“Hey,” he said suddenly. “That statue is freaking me out. Let’s push it out the window.”

Caius grinned.