Disclaimer: Everything belongs to HBO's Rome. No infringement intended.

Marc Antony has never been a faithful lover. In between Fulvia and Octavia, he has been with more women than he can count. The women were mere wraiths and shadows to him. None of them had any distinguishing features. They were cheap whores and camp followers who had fetishes for Roman soldiers. There was no lingering passion after the heated lovemaking. Antony merely righted his tunic, smoothed down his hair, gathered his armour and left the nameless woman without a second glance. There had never been a woman who could captivate him and hold his fidelity.

Until her.


She stirs in his arms and breathes his name that sounds like a caress to his ears.

He loves the way she says his name.

He buries his nose in her thick, black hair that has always entranced him, and breathes in the intoxicating aroma of rose water, incense and spice that permeates her being.

It is nearing dawn but Antony silently wills the night in vain to lengthen its dusky veil a little longer so that he can revel in her body against his without any interruption from servants, envoys or soldiers.

Night is when Antony is able to banish his fears about the future. Night is when Octavian is a mere child that he can crush with all his military might. Night is when Antony is the husband and Cleopatra is the wife, not Antony the Imperator and Cleopatra the Queen.

"Antony," she murmurs, lightly running a nimble hand down his side and then back up to his broad chest as if to reassure herself that Antony was indeed there in his glorious bodily form. She never once opens her eyes.

Antony strokes her hair. "Yes, my love?"

"I love you," she whispers.

"And you are my life," he replies simply.

And it is true. He has never spoken those words to any woman before.

Until now.

The End. I hope you all enjoyed it. Please review and tell me what you think!