PROLOGUE

A pompous festival is held to celebrate this memorable day in Alexandria: the defeat of the Parthians, another victory inflating Antony’s reputation as well as his wife Cleopatra’s pride and treasure; although the Romans might disagree. Armenia and Cyprus, now part of the vast kingdom of Egypt, donated to their offspring: Alexander Helios, Ptolemy philadelphus and Selene, three sweet and beautiful children. Streets adorned with lustrous decorations. Parade grounds embellished with hanging ornaments and shimmers. Curvaceous figures dancing. Vivacious and jumpy notes reaching the audience's ears and cheering their days. Any kind of instrument could be seen and heard, from lutes and harps to lyres and drums. Down the road, an arched door leading to the banquet hall, overflowing with food, beverages and people. Music players and dancers enticing the chamber. And there she was, at the head of the table,  sitting in her magnificence: Cleopatra. Time had passed and  took away her innocence and juvenility, replacing it with a seductive glance and an enviable maturity. Her past shown in her features aroused interest in everyone she met. Harmonious colors alternating on her face like a painted canvas encircled by dark strands of hair. Piercing almond green orbs scanning the room, attentive and curious. On her lap, a laying slim black cat with closed eyes and long ears. All the presents at the table chatted joyfully, laughing and enjoying each other. Everyone was here except for the one who gifted the Egyptians and their Queen with his copious donations himself. Antony. 

CHAPTER I

The celebrations were proceeding smoothly, fabulous performances and pleasant but rhythmic songs. Every guest seemed to have fun and from the looks on their faces, the dishes offered were more than liked. A middle aged man in the back was narrating a story that was probably meant to remain a secret, voice slightly slurred and loud indicating his blatant inebriation. 

On the left, three women tattling about how ardently they desired to leave their husbands to finally live freely with their lovers, convinced that they wouldn't receive the same treatment.

While these men kept on with their own conversation. Perhaps they weren’t listening at all. Or they were just pretending and would punish them later that night, behind the four walls of their house. Whatever the answer was, didn’t matter to Cleopatra. She wasn’t the one who had to deal with it. Her role as the Queen surely didn't guarantee immunity from the things men would do, in case she was to reform the way family relationships worked; and she couldn’t afford that. Not now that her kingdom was expanding and flourishing in  wealth and power. Although her indifference towards the case was partially to be blamed on the absence of her own husband. 

After bestowing the donations he left to take care of important “private-Romans” affairs: “nothing to worry about” he said, leaving her to announce the news to the public. She knew they would eventually have to face the consequences of this decision, however the atmosphere created  was so peaceful and joyous that she wished these would come as late as possible, or never. 

Despite having contemplated the possibility of a life free from responsibilities of being the leader of such a vast territory, the remembrance of everything she had to go through to achieve this, the struggle to obtain the crown, going against her own brother (reaching the point where she had to kill him),  interrupted even the thought of giving it all up. A part of her knew there was an ulterior motive: how could she escape the present life, conscious of the number of people who helped her, including Antony. Except the truth was that she immensely and perpetually loved her role. Not only the wealth, but also holding the power and the decision-making, the fame coming with it, these banquets, the victories, the conquests… in the end she could renounce this life, but simply refused to. Albeit she was aware that Antony would  be willing to indulge the request without second thought. 

He has always been keen on taking risks, seizing every favorable opportunity presented in front of him. His behavior wasn’t exactly impulsive, more like not too interested in the future as much as the present. His reason and dedication are occasionally obfuscated by boldness, which then turned into fearlessness and ostentation. Little did she know that these traits will lead to a highly crucial situation. 

Her eyes skimmed through the crowd, her son Ptolemy Philadelphus was moving around with his older sister Selene in an attempt to dance. They were the youngest, respectively three and seven years old, two children enjoying their childhood, carefree and oblivious to the reality of the world or the  large territories under their names. 

Ptolemy, generous, mature and extraordinarily polite, yet resourceful and practical. He was the quietest of them. Big cerulean eyes revealing all the unasked questions, in contrast with his pitch black hair. 

Selene, on the other hand, showed an impressive cleverness and curiosity, in addition to her passionate, energetic and tremendously stubborn personality; opposite to the  meaning of her name, Moon, calming and soothing. However she does possess that luminosity, allowing her to shine in the dark, accompanied with the azure gaze similar to her older brother’s, just faintly darker, edging toward the color of the evening sky. 

On the furthest side of the room was sitting Caesarion, Cleopatra and Caesar’s only son, engaged in a light conversation with his presumably peers. He was almost sixteen now, already looking forward to the future, arising chances, hopes and dangers, youth slowly fading away from his frame; growing up the similarities with his father became more and more accentuated. Light brown disheveled locks paired with matching eyes sunken in his olive skin. In reality, what didn’t let his presence go unnoticed weren’t the warm tones of his looks, but his charismatic and charming personality. The loquaciousness and resolution were brought out during his speeches to the point where listeners could just stare in awe; exactly like Caesar. Natural leaders, gifted with a brilliant intellect, standing above those who relied on physical strength and strategic mind all of their value. 

Next to him, Alexander Helios, four years younger, trying to keep up with the conversation. Honey blonde waves reflecting the sunlight, blending with his complexion; the bright glow from outside bringing out the olive green eyes, resembling his mother’s, narrowed in concentration taking in as much as possible. His intelligence was remarkable, and formed a perfect combination with other traits that designed the child’s behavior like trustworthiness and humorism; he bore the name of the Sun, Helios, and a great commander, Alexander, thanks to whom this immense reign was born in the first place. 

Suddenly a shadow appeared in the arch of the front door, stepping forward people in the hall were able to identify him as Antony. He finally returned. Yet something was wrong. Cleopatra could feel it, accustomed to reading through the body language and the expressions of powerful figures she had to deal with. It was quite an interesting and not so common ability to master. Recognising how factors such as stance and voice could change based on their true intentions and falter as these were about to be unraveled, flashes of almost indistinguishable emotions shot through their faintly widened eyes, clenched jaws, pursed lips, before a second mask was put on, and those shifts  were hidden again. In that moment, behind her husband’s caramel orbs there was a glimpse of defiance and pretentiousness, she recognised easily as they locked eyes. Not the one expressing sheer satisfaction and joy present on his face that morning when declaring his triumph, but the mischievous gaze telling that he is pursuing an action that might lead to disastrous consequences for temporary benefit or gratification. 

His glance slid to Caesarion, then again to her. That’s when she put the pieces together, understanding the reasons behind his strange attitude during their previous encounter, all the discussions about her son being the heir of a great political man like Caesar and how he should be acknowledged and treated by Romans with the same respect previously reserved to his father, instead of leaving the world unaware of his existence and ancestry. 

Antony made this decision. He made this decision without consulting her. Not long will pass before the letter sent will arrive, communicating the aforesaid information. And hopefully, soon after, they’ll receive a civil response, despite it probably containing Octavian’s disdain, meeting his already shown rage. All she could do was wish for the consequences not to be tragic.