Lepidus had long since discovered that the goddess from three years ago, was.... in fact, a boy.

  It took one year of watching the goddess whenever they appear at public processions, and finally asking people, to learn that.. and also to find out his name.

  Caligu. A nickname that the soldiers gave the boy, after hearing him sing in his father's military camp.

  He felt somewhat proud of these small achievements... which is a big deal to Lepidus.

  A fifteen year old boy. A half sve and half noble... having this kind of resourcefulness..

  It started as a simple curiosity, perhaps a bit more.. he's not sure.

  What truly captured his interest was Caligu's vacant, withdrawn look, the same one he'd witnessed years ago at the boy's father's funeral.

  His resembnce to a goddess's statue—slightly long golden blond hair, piercing blue eyes, which was disturbingly empty—was striking.

  Yes, just like a sculpture. Unmoving, uncanny. Years had passed, and Caligu still held that same expression, fueling Lepidus's curiosity.

  Since then, he's been trying to talk to the boy, or more accurately, imagining how to talk to him.. without being seen as some nuisance or someone with hidden scheme.

  He'd imagine towering over him, full of confidence, and to ask what was wrong directly. And having Caligu confide in him.. or something.

  Lepidus felt compelled to help, just as the boy had helped him, though Caligu didn't know it. It was his singing voice actually that help him, but same difference.

  After all, whose beautiful singing voice was it?

  His angelic voice had consoled him, saved his soul from spiraling when his mother died.

  I just wanted to return the favor, as my mother always taught: to give back what you receive. He reasoned with himself.

  Even if it's unintentional.. Or am I just being a busybody? He asked himself in wonder.

  The adults around him and his siblings seemed indifferent to his well-being. Or is it just me? Lepidus can't help but find it odd.

  After all, I don't see him the whole day. I only see just bits and pieces of him whenever they go out in public. He scratched his chin. I don't really know the story behind it.

  But he wonder, perhaps he could make him smile? Lepidus imagined Caligu smiling at him. Like the princess in his mother's bedtime stories. Just a flicker of emotion would do.

  How could a kid that young have such lifeless eyes?

  Arrogant, perhaps, but Lepidus believed he could help him, uncover what was wrong.

  Three years since his father's death, shouldn't he be over it by now? Lepidus snorted to himself. As if I was over my mother's death myself.

  Well, it's not that I'm really over my mother's death, it still hurts sometimes, but it feels more like a distant memory now. He sighed.

  But something was clearly amiss with the boy. Or it's just my brain pying tricks at me? He pondered.

  Maybe their mourning is different from mine? Lepidus is nothing but persistent.

  His fixation from his mother, whom he loved most, the center of his world... has been transferred to the goddess... to the boy named Caligu.

  The crowd's noise—ughter, murmurs, and merchant shouts—snapped Lepidus back to attention.

  He had been waiting here at the Roman forum since dawn, eager to see the boy, to finally introduce himself and make friends.

  If he'd have it, that is. If he acted like those damn nobles, I'd forget it and move on. He reassure himself.

  Lepidus sighed. He'd rather spend his time drawing on his scrolls, the ones he stole from his father's cubiculum.

  His thoughts started drifting to his father, but he tried hard not to.

  No, no... think of something else! He reprimanded himself.

  Oh right, it's almost prandium, yet still no sign of his family. Did I just waste my time? Lepidus wondered.

  He decided to take out his scrolls and charcoals from his saccus, he'll draw in the corner, while listening to the people's gossip.

  The scent of parchment mixed with the earthy smell of charcoal dust, the rough texture of the scrolls was familiar beneath his fingertips. It still makes his heart pound.

  He's gd he has found something he is so passionate about. Further healing his broken soul.

  As Lepidus listen to the people around him as he draw, he always heard these two things over the years.

  One, that some still revered them, and two, more and more people spoke ill of Caligu's family now.

  A stark contrast to the recent years.

  Where almost all the people in Rome, plebeians and patricians supported Agrippina, Caligu's mother.

  She even had a scandal circuting now.

  They said she murdered her husband, that Piso was innocent, merely a victim of her seduction. That she pushed the man to take his life.

  Making Piso's wife a vidua misera. All the people's sympathy is with Pncina right now.

  Nobody knows where this rumors comes from.. One day it all just been whispered...

  Yet, the oldest whispers remained. That the true maniputor behind everything was Tiberius himself.

  That, it was he who had denied Germanicus the throne. That the emperor had orchestrated it all.

  A very dangerous accusation.

  The truth, whatever it was, remained hidden, buried, and forever lost.

  Murmurs rippled through the crowd, a wave of shifting bodies and stretched necks.

  It was time, he thought.

  He hastily rolled up his scrolls, packed his charcoals into his saccus, and stood.

  The air felt thick with anticipation and foreboding, a charge lingering like the moment before a storm breaks.

  As Lepidus find a better pce to observe, he could feel the heat radiating off the stones as he walked.

  The thermopolia stalls, with their overripe fruit, added a pungent sweetness to the dust and sweat, surrounding the forum on both sides.

  He moved hurriedly. He kept looking at the procession, a slow, suffocating crawl through the city's heart.

  Lepidus saw Agrippina, first. The head of the procession.

  Regal. Distant. Powerful.

  Even from afar, her presence had a weight, it can be felt against the air, suffocating yet commanding.

  Her almost white hair is not easy to miss. He commented.

  Then, his gaze fell upon Caligu, who was trailing behind his siblings.

  Dressed in an expensive white tunic, with his feet cd in leather sandals.

  The boy walked with a strange stillness, his face still a mask.

  He didn't seem to see the crowd, or perhaps he saw them differently as always.

  But somehow he was acting… nervous?

  There was something unusual about him today, unlike the other times he had watched him.

  Lepidus always observed him from the shadows.

  The boy's eyes always bnk, always distant.

  Something… broken..

  He looked around the Romanum forum.

  It was a sea of faces, mostly plebeians, their expressions a mix of curiosity and weariness.

  The appuse was thin, scattered.

  He wondered if the boy is feeling uneasy with the atmosphere?

  Lepidus breathe in the scent of warm bread from a nearby bakery, mixed oddly with the metallic tang of sweat and the lingering staleness of still water.

  Hah. Why am I even so fixated with him? Who cares if he is uncomfortable? There's nothing I could do about it. He pessimistically contradicted his initial pns with the boy.

  I mean.. If he feel troubled, he could have said no to his mother to this kind of events. Is it that hard? She's his mother! For Jupiter's sake. He could feel himself getting frustrated, and he didn't know why.

  While he is in deep thought, Agrippina's voice, sharp and clear, cut through the silence.

  "Citizens of Rome, behold my children—the future of our great empire!"

  But the words fell ft. A few cps, a murmur, then nothing.

  Caligu stood beside his mother, unmoving.

  Lepidus can feel his tension from where he stand, a tight coil in the boy's posture.

  He didn't look at the crowd, didn't smile, didn't wave.

  Just… endured. Just like me, who also endured.

  My heart went out to the boy. He was like me, Lepidus thought. Cementing his initial pn to introduce himself.

  He looked around once more at the quiet crowd and realized why he felt annoyed.

  It was because he felt helpless and useless, unable to aid Caligu. Lepidus concluded.

  As if he were the one embarrassed, he diverted his eyes and left the crowd.

  Feeling sorry for the boy.

  But he didn't go far. He remained at the forum, unable to bear how the people received Caligu's family.

  He started to draw again while waiting.

  Time passes by, and the crowd has already left..

  Lepidus find Caligu sat alone on a marble bench, his shoulders slumped.

  The sun cast dappled patterns through the colonnades, streaking his tunic with shifting patches of gold.

  Agrippina was surrounded by senators, far from the boy, her gestures sharp, her voice strained.

  But Caligu was lost in his own world, staring at nothing, his fingers idly tracing the hem of his tunic.

  Lepidus watched him. Something was different.

  He still looked otherworldly, and the boy in him was more pronounced than he remembered.

  But the way he sat, this is a first. In all the public processions they have, this is the first time he saw the boy slouch.

  He was always usually stiff.

  Has he regained his marbles? And should I approach him now?

  I hadn't pnned to, despite my bravado. I talked a big game, but that was all. Lepidus is now making excuses to himself.

  But destiny seems to have pns for Lepidus and Caligu....

  He didn't pn to approach, it was a clumsy accident, really.

  His sandal caught on an uneven stone, and he tripped, scrolls nearly spilling, nearly crashing into a group of patricians.

  Their faces, a mixture of disgust and fear, recoiled as if his very presence was offensive.

  The scent of perfumed oils and stale breath clung to them.

  Lepidus gave half-hearted apologies while scrambling to his feet.

  Great, if he saw me now, he'll think I'm clumsy. Lepidus dreaded.

  Then, he felt a stare. A weight, heavy and piercing.

  Oh, Caligu really did noticed me, Lepidus thought. I must have looked stupid in his eyes now.

  His heart started thumping in his chest.

  Lepidus deliberately slowly face the boy. Just to see his reactions.

  If he ugh or looked down on me, I'm gonna go home.

  But the boy's face, even though he is far, was serious.

  The usual piercing blue eyes, beautiful but vacant.. Now, they were intense.

  They burned into Lepidus.

  A strange nervousness, a flutter in his chest.

  His fingers curled instinctively around the saccus, the rough edges grounding him.

  Lepidus realized the other thing that had been bothering him.

  For the first time, Caligu's eyes held light, as if his consciousness had returned from the shadows.

  I was right. He swallowed, his throat dry as old parchment.

  His palms felt cmmy, and the noise of the forum seemed to dim into a distant hum.

  Now I've got another problem, how does one make friends? He felt himself smiling involuntarily from his stupidity.

  ......

  Then he remembered the story of a female servus back in his father's state, that a male servus had given her flowers to make friends with her.

  Alright. Flowers. He decided.

  Lepidus looked around and saw the bushes on the way to Caligu. He moves towards it.

  Determined to get through with his pn. To know more about the goddess, the boy, Caligu.

  I couldn't get anymore better situation than this. He realized.

  He picked a wildflower, a small, white thing, its petals soft as silk between his fingers.

  His heart pounded against his chest as he took a step forward.

  The boy's eyes sharpened, alert, but Lepidus still stood before Caligu, his breath unsteady, his pulse drumming in his ears.

  Holding out the wildflower, he tried to speak, but his voice wavered.

  "Ahemm.. for you," Lepidus stammered, trying to hide his nervousness.

  His small Adam's apple bobbed.

  The air between them felt charged, fragile, like a thread stretched too thin, ready to snap.

  He waited, breath held, for his reaction.

  But Caligu's reaction was different from what he expected... his eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering in his expression.

  Then, in a sharp and suspicious voice, he asked Lepidus, "What is this? And why are you giving it to me?"

  For a moment, Lepidus's breathing hitched. His voice… after hearing that angelic voice in person, talking to him, Lepidus almost wanted to close his eyes.

  It was the voice of an adolescent boy, with a tinge of high pitch tone, almost girlish.

  Lepidus shrank back, flustered, his tongue suddenly heavy.

  The impact of the boy's angelic voice on him was… strange, indescribable.

  It unsettled him, as if the air had thickened more around them.

  Still, he forced himself to respond. "It's just a flower. I thought… you might like it."

  But he still saw that the boy perceived him as a threat, by the way he was reaching for any weapon.

  Luck was on Lepidus side; there was none, not even a small stone.

  Caligu stared at the flower, then back at him, his brow knitted together in confusion.

  Lepidus found it endearing. His gaze was piercing—too much, too direct.

  He felt heat creeping up his neck, a warmth he couldn't shake.

  His skin tingled where the boy's eyes lingered, and Lepidus swore his face was reddening, like embers under breath.

  Caligu's scrutiny felt like a brand. "Like what?" he asked, his voice softer now, almost unreadable. "This insignificant flower?"

  Ah, his voice was still melodic. Lepidus was the one feeling insignificant, not the flower.

  Even now, even without song. "It's… pretty," Lepidus mumbled, offering the flower again with an awkward push.

  You are pretty... "Please, take it. It's nothing."

  Caligu hesitated, his gaze flicking between Lepidus and the small, fragile bloom in his palm.

  Then, he took it. The boy's fingers brushed against Lepidus—barely, fleeting—but the contact sent a shock through Lepidus, as if a storm had passed between them.

  A strange prickle ran up his spine. He shivered, even though the midday sun pressed heavy on his shoulders.

  Then, Lepidus's scrolls slipped from his grasp, unrolling at his feet.

  He barely had time to react before Caligu noticed, his breath catching ever so slightly.

  Lepidus's own breath hitched in response, a sharp embarrassment flooding his chest.

  "What is this?" he asked, his voice hushed

  "They're.. they're just drawings," Lepidus stammered. "I like to draw."

  He bent down, picking up the scroll with careful fingers.

  Caligu's fingertips traced the charcoal lines, the soft smudges where Lepidus's hands had pressed too firmly, his touch delicate despite the tension in his frame.

  "They're beautiful," the boy murmured.

  No… you are more beautiful.

  But something in Caligu's voice had changed.

  There was a weight to it now, something deeper than casual interest.

  He wasn't looking at Lepidus anymore, only at the images on the parchment, his fingers skimming over them like they might vanish if he wasn't careful.

  "What did you use to make them?" Caligu's asked. Curiosity in his blue eyes.

  Lepidus swallowed.

  "Mostly charcoals, sometimes colored earths, and for finer details, a reed pen dipped in ink."

  "I've never seen anything like this.. they're so clear.."

  He nodded slowly.

  "Can you draw people too?" Caligu asked again.

  A different kind of heat spread through Lepidus this time—not embarrassment, but something bordering on fear.

  He averted his eyes, gripping the edge of his tunic. Yes, I draw you from memory.

  You and my mother. But I won't be telling you that. "Sometimes," Lepidus admitted. "But I'm not very good at it."

  He thanked the gods that the scroll that dropped was not Caligu's portrait.

  But the boy wasn't listening. His attention was consumed, his face oddly intense as he studied the flowers, the meadow Lepidus had drawn.

  The longer he looked, the more something in him shifted, his usual stillness cracking at the edges.

  The shadows under his eyes, the tightness in his jaw—Lepidus could see them now, clearer than before.

  "What is your name?" he asked suddenly.

  Lepidus's breath hitched.

  His eyes were on him again, expectant, waiting.

  He gulped—once, twice—three times before managing to speak

  "Lepidus."

  *****************************

  INDEX:

  prandium- lunch time

  vidua misera - wretched widow

  thermopolia- stalls of foods

  servus- singur form of servi (sve)