It was still early morning when the ship docked at Capri yet even though they had been travelling for days, exhausted and dusty, there was a sense of anticipation amongst them all.

They had arrived.

The ship was purposefully built so as to be able to dock at Capri without damage to the hull, so they did not need to wait for boats to row them ashore in small parties. For this, Caroline is grateful as the impatience to see the Emperor safe inside his summer villa is so strong that she finds her hands trembling with the urge to push him along as he strides down the wooden planks.

He is met by the citizens of the isle those who are unused to seeing their Emperor and Imperial family every day, eager to behold them and welcome them with fresh food and wine.

If they stop to eat, Caroline might scream.

There is movement beside her, and she turns her head to see Enzo trying to yawn with his mouth closed.

"Why do the gods taunt us?" he asks, his voice still scratchy from sleep and she smirks in amusement,

"You should ask them." she teases, and he rolls his eyes.

Proconsul Alaric had been first off the ship after the Imperial Family and had observed the crowd before ordering Caroline to stay close and disappearing up the hill.

She studies the citizens and is glad that they are so unfamiliar with such high-ranking guests that they keep their distance.

She can only hope that their enemies did not follow them to Capri.

Yet she still cannot shake the feeling that she is being watched.

She reaches for the hilt of her sword, gripping it tightly to ground herself. When she was younger, she had used to run her hands through her hair until she realised that her men saw that action as feminine and unbefitting a soldier.

Besides, it was hard to keep hands clean when they were marching and her hair was too fair to hide the dirt.

The proconsul returns with a husband and wife festooned in such bright colours that Caroline has to blink to adjust her eyes. Curiosity has her moving closer and she overhears them being introduced as the caretakers of the imperial villa.

They gush over the Emperor and the family, welcoming them with such bowing and scraping that Elijah grimaces in embarrassment. However, Caroline cannot fault them as- to her satisfaction- they are drawing them away from the crowd, towards the hill. There is talk of bathing and a feast to welcome them.

Since landing, Caroline has kept the sea in her peripheral vision and the desire to dive beneath the waves is so strong that her mouth waters.

Enzo was not wrong however; the gods are taunting them.

The climb up the mountain to the villa is not long yet already the sun is rising high in the sky, beating down on the back of their necks and Caroline hopes that they will be dismissed by the caretakers the moment the Emperor is through the doors to find where they have been billeted.

She wants to break her fast, eat and rest before speaking with Alaric.

She had been told that the Villa Jovis was an impressive structure, surrounded by woods, gardens and nymphaea. Elijah had mentioned a lighthouse and while he had warned that it was not nearly as impressive as the one in Alexandria, she had tried to create an image of the villa in her mind.

Her imagination had failed her.

The villa was as impressive as many a palace she had seen, rising several storeys high and with a bridge as large as any aqueduct leading to the lighthouse.

The white exterior was blinding in the summer sun and she averted her eyes to the path before them, the paved steps leading them to the entrance.

Two battalions could easily sleep in the courtyard leading into the villa and still leave a clear path for the residents to move freely.

She is breathless as she comes to a stop, tilting her head back to try and take in the massive height of the structure.

She feels a sense of relief that even the most devout assassin would not be able to scale the walls.

Behind her, the men stand awaiting their orders and she is considering billeting them in the woods so that they can be close enough to guard the family yet not so close so as to intrude on their privacy.

She had assumed at worst that she would be eating with her men outside the villa with the less important people. She is not so lucky and instead she finds herself being drawn inside by slaves.

The atrium floor was tiled with stunning mosaics depicting the trials of Heracles. Caroline found herself trying to examine them as she was led to a bench and her boots removed.

The Imperial family were ushered away to the Emperor's quarters, to wash and dress in luxurious privacy, however after days on the road Caroline does not mind having her hands and feet bathed and perfumed with only small bowls and sent on her way.

Her possessions have not been brought up with those of the Imperial Family, therefore, while they are changing into cleaner garbs, she and Alaric are able to walk through the pars rustica and observe both the darker rooms and the slaves and servants working within them.

When they reach the imperial quarters, they study the entrance and then share a relieved smile.

There was a singular entrance that would be easily guarded by her men and the private gardens were bordered by a wall and a cliff overlooking the sea.

"We will still have soldiers throughout the villa," Alaric mutters, "However, I almost dare say that the there is no cause for concern."

Caroline smiles at his cautious optimism, his careful choice of words so as not to tempt the gods.

"No emperor of Rome has ever been assassinated here." She offers in reply and the two of them lapse into brief silence as they contemplate the sea below.

Staring down, she has a sense that she is being pulled into the sea and that she is tilting forward even as she digs her heels in to ensure that she remains upright.

The waves kissed the cliff, the foam caressing the sharp edges before withdrawing in a teasing manner only to return seconds later. There was swirling chaos beneath them, blue in various hues, the white foam and the brown, jagged rocks that would kill anyone unfortunate enough to fall.

'Or to be thrown' a strange voice whispers in her mind and she shivers, drawing back from the shadows of an olive tree to the baking heat of the sun.

Niklaus finds them as they make their way to the triclinium and falls in beside her. He has bathed and changed into clean garb and she cannot help but feel dusty and messy in the uniform she has worn for days now.

The sea is calling to her.

"Now that we are here," he begins as they step inside and are bathed in the cool shade, "Will you allow yourself to relax?"

She rolls her eyes, "You have not seen me in years Niklaus, you cannot tell when I am relaxed."

He only shrugs and smirks, "Then I will learn."

Alaric clears his throat and the two of them startle, Caroline having forgot that the Proconsul was with her and Niklaus clearly having never noticed him to begin with.

"Come," he beckons, speaking a little louder to cover his embarrassment, "The feast will soon be ready."

Alaric takes her arm, tugging her back slightly and catches them both by surprise, "A moment," he calls to Niklaus, waiting until he leaves before speaking.

"You need to be careful, Caroline," he chastises, "In Rome, surrounded by so many people it was easier for the two of you to go unnoticed, now all eyes will be on the Imperial family, especially the heir."

Caroline inhaled through her nose and tried to fight the blood rising to her face, "Niklaus is my friend, we played together as children as anybody aware of my family name would know."

"You are no longer a child," Alaric argues, "Nor is he and you would do well to consider how whorish your actions appear to outsiders no matter how innocent you claim them to be."

Whorish?

She had never considered striking a fellow Roman across the face before, yet she considered it now.

As her superior however, striking the Proconsul would see her at best imprisoned and perhaps forced to fight in the Colosseum for her freedom and at worst, executed.

Perhaps, if he was angry enough with her, she would be dragged to the steps.

"Name one of our men that has not lost his virtue to a whore or paid for the privilege," she demands, her voice low so as to not be overheard, "Yet you judge me for being kind to a friend."

His laugh borders on cruel and she finds herself wondering how she could have ever trusted this man,

"Kind?" he echoes, "You call losing your honour to a man you will never marry, kind?"

"My honour?" she seethes, glancing about quickly to ensure they were still alone,

"I am a centurion; I am a general! My honour comes from the battles I have won and the campaigns I have led against Rome's enemies."

"You are a woman," Alaric argues, "First and foremost,"

"Once our men realise you are no longer a virgin and protected under law, they will demand the same of you that they do of the whores and will take it however they see fit."

In disgust, she pulled her arm free and turned from him, so determined to get away that she did not even realise that she had entered the triclinium until she heard the musicians and nearly collided with one of the slaves carrying a dish of fresh lamb.

Skirting around them at the last moment, she studies the couches before her and deliberately chooses the position next to Elijah, close to Niklaus and where the Proconsul could not place himself near her.

It takes her some time before she notices the lack of asp around his neck or arm and she catches his eye before quirking her brow in silent question.

"I believe it is exploring the grounds," he explains, "It behaved in a similar manner when we first arrived in Rome."

"As long as it does not venture near my men," she warns, "If they see the asp, they may tread it underfoot."

"Accidentally, I am sure." he retorts, his voice heavy with sarcasm and disdain.

The Emperor is escorted into the triclinium with the caretakers of Villa Jovis and a handsome dark-haired young man with a proud bearing and robes as fine as those that Niklaus was wearing.

"Our son, Tyler," the lady declares as if expecting applause and they all murmur polite greetings, barely waiting until the Emperor has taken the place of honour before helping themselves to the food.

Caroline studies him curiously and he seems surprised by her bold stare returning it with a disapproving frown that has her seeking comfort in Niklaus' own displeasure at the lack of attention she was showing him. He takes a seat of honour close to the Emperor and Elijah, which gives Caroline a thrill of pleasure knowing that he would be listening to in-depth political and philosophical discussions all evening.

And unless he had the same fascination as those other two men, he would find himself bored to tears.

Ansel leans past him now to ask Elijah about what treatises he had brought with him and Elijah barely needed prompting before he launched into a discussion about the works he intended to study while he was in Capri, which Rebekah could barely listen to without a look of horror on her face. Feeling pity for the poor girl, Caroline waited until Elijah paused for breath before she interjected by reminding them all that as the Imperial daughter, it would be Rebekah's duty to meet and host the honourable women of the isle.

"And what will the soldiers be doing?" the lady asked, "Besides making a mess of our garden?"

"Keeping the Imperial family safe?" Caroline quipped before she could rein herself in and Niklaus snorted into his cup.

The lady doesn't seem overly interested in her response, turning her head away with a wave of her wrist, heavily ornamented with gold.

Knowing a rebuff when she experiences one, Caroline takes a sip of her own wine and focuses on Niklaus. The sun has left his nose tinged pink with burn and she imagines pressing her finger- or her lips- against the skin.

"I want to go swimming in the sea tomorrow," she tells him quietly, "Can I trust you to come with me?"

His eyes dart down her body, partially hidden from the way they recline on the couches and she already wears a knowing smile on her face when he manages to return his eyes to her own.

The bright blue orbs shine with lust, yet he draws in a ragged breath and nods,

"Yes, I swear on whatever gods you ask me to that you can trust me."

Part of her knew it was unfair to tease him yet there was something in this flirtatious banter between the two of them that she enjoyed, even as Alaric's words echoed in the back of her mind.

Perhaps it was the fear that he was right that made her incapable of truly enjoying the meal, the horror of the idea that her men would lose all respect for her, that she would be worse than one of the prostitutes in their minds because she had first been one of them.

Rebekah walks her to the atrium and kisses her cheek in farewell,

"Thank you for saving me today," she gushes, squeezing her hand and Caroline is so worn from the journey that for a moment she thinks that she has forgot a time when she had rescued her from an attack.

She returns to her senses when she sees the young girl glaring at Elijah as he and the Emperor cross the hallway. "Truly, I am grateful."

Caroline smirks and squeezes her hand, "I understand."

Still, she is already preparing an argument as to why Rebekah cannot follow her to her men when the girl yawns and makes her farewell, allowing one of the slaves to lead her back to the Imperial quarters.

She watches her leave before striding out to the courtyard where she is almost knocked back a step by the strong winds. The smell of the sea and the tugging of the wind through her hair and leather skirt has her closing her eyes in momentary bliss.

If she were a touch more impulsive, she would swim in the sea tonight and trust in Neptune to keep the monsters at bay.

The thought is fantastical and still not enough to smother her instincts.

She is not alone.

Opening her eyes slowly so as not to cause alarm, she turns her head slightly and offers a placid smile to the man watching her.

The caretaker's son, Tyler.

"Greetings," she calls, waiting patiently for his response.

Which comes when he raises his eyebrows, rakes his eyes over her uniform and with a grimace of disdain, shows her his back.

She can tell from his body that he had never served in the army, or perhaps even held a sword in his life.

Yet he looked down on her for doing so.

Perhaps this was because the only known female warriors were the savages in Britannia, those women with matted hair and blue markings on their faces who knew nothing of civilisation.

Perhaps his disdain was not her concern?

She knew nothing of him beyond his name and did not see why she should bother to learn.

Her focus was on the Imperial Family.

And Niklaus, her heart reminded her treacherously.

Stefan is the first she encounters, having set his tent as far apart from the others as possible while still being within regulations.

Crouching on the grass, he is bent over a wooden figure he was carving from a tree branch he'd taken from Gaul.

For the life of her, Caroline could not figure out what he was trying to create however if it kept a member of her battalion occupied and interested in something other than drinking or gambling, she was content.

He looks up as she approaches and pushes himself to his feet,

"We were beginning to think we would never see you again." he teases, and she rolls her eyes,

"Had I eaten anymore I would have had to be carried down."

"Enzo kept us civilised in your absence," he assures her, falling in step as she made her way through the neat row of tents, nodding at her men as she saw them.

"He wants to see you as soon as possible."

Caroline faltered in her step, frowning at Stefan's words, "Enzo is always the first man I see," she pointed out, "Anyone short of the Emperor himself would not take precedence."

Stefan shrugged, "I noted this as well, yet he asked to see you."

Concerned that something had gone wrong, Caroline made straight for her tent which had been set up in her absence. She pushed the tent flap aside so quickly that she nearly hit herself in the face,

"Lorenzo?" she called, stepping into the spacious area and observing it for any threats or even a single unusual possession.

When her eyes adjust, she sees him perched in her chair, his shoulders tense and a dagger in his hand.

"Are you well?" she asked in concern, moving forward and not stopping even when his suspicious gaze meets her own.

"A man came to camp looking for you," he begins, "A former slave if the branding was anything to go by."

She shrugs and waits for him to continue, "I found him trying to remain out of sight in the garden, which is not a wise move when a battalion nearby is searching for threats against the Imperial family."

In spite of himself, his lips quirk upwards in amusement and Caroline perches her hip against her table,

"Is he dead?" she inquires, and he shakes his head, "No, I thought it better to question him first. Which is how I determined that he was searching for you…and that his name was Mason."

Caroline blinked rapidly as she tried to place the name, there was something vaguely familiar, yet she could not immediately recall why.

"He said that he'd served your father and that he owed him a great debt," he elaborated, and she was hit by a flash of memory. A young man waiting in her father's office for him to finish reading his letters.

"I wonder if he meant a debt of honour or a debt of coin," she mused and stilled when Enzo drove his dagger into the wood of her chair, causing her to glare at him, "Be thankful we are good friends." She warns and he shoots to his feet,

"It is because we are good friends that I nearly slit this man's throat and threw him into the sea," he hisses, "Caroline, why are your father's former slaves seeking you out?"

She shrugs, "I have not encountered a single member of my father's retinue or even my family since the day I was led from his house to the army barracks. I barely recall this man and have no idea as to why he would seek me out."

"Are you certain?" Enzo demanded, leaning closer, "For I cannot protect you if you are not honest with me."

"Then it is a good thing I have never lied to you, Enzo," She snaps, spinning on her heel and moving further into her tent, "I am tired, if the men have eaten and are unlikely to cause trouble, I will rest now."

Enzo exhales through his nostrils yet mutters a brief goodnight before striding from the tent and she sinks into her cot with a sigh.

At least now she knew why she had not been able to shake the feeling of being watched.

A/N- Thanks for reading!