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For the household of Marcius Philippus, a visit from Caesar was an occasion of great excitement. Forewarning would result in the kitchen being a flurry of activity for days, with the slaves preparing - under the watchful eye of Atia - countless dishes that would likely go uneaten by the guest of honour. Philippus was ever proud of the prestige he had gained through marrying the niece of Rome's principle citizen and determined on each occasion to provide hospitality of a standard grander even than the last.

Octavius looked upon such fevered preparations with disdain. Caesar did not come to feast upon the latest culinary fashions - rather, he sought to spend time with his family. The flurry of slaves from the moment of first dawn was a tedious disruption to Octavius' usual daily existence, and he much preferred those occasions when his great uncle impulsively decided to make an unannounced appearance.

Unfortunately, on the present occasion, the household had been warned of a visit almost two full days in advance. The kitchen seemed near to overflowing with all manner of foods and, with Caesar due at any moment, his mother was being more tiresome than usual, fussing over Octavius' hair and entirely ignoring his warning glares.

Octavius had decided to invite Agrippa to the meal - whether through politeness or curiosity he did not know - and he was pleased to see that even other women's children did not escape the ministrations of his mother in a panic. While Agrippa looked awkward and embarrassed, (and Octavius hid a snicker behind a hand) Atia plucked and prodded at the fabric of the younger boy's toga until it finally reached whatever ideal she had imagined. Pushing Octavius' fringe back from his face for the third time within a minute, she shook her head and flittered back to the kitchen without a word.

As his mother moved away, Octavius regarded Agrippa with undisguised amusement. "See," he laughed. "You are already regretting your acceptance of my invitation."

Agrippa shook his head, colouring slightly. "I look forward to meeting Caesar again. I haven't yet had the chance to thank him for his generosity."

"Oh yes," Octavius laughed. "You mustn't forget to thank the benign benefactor for your share of his ill-gotten gains!" Noting Agrippa's frown, he continued. "Why, surely you've heard the rumours..."

"There are always rumours," Agrippa shrugged. "I tend not to listen to those at the expense of my friends or benefactors."

"Ah, but rumours concerning enemies are the sweetest drink to be had," came a deep voice from behind. "It is those that you should believe blindly and relay thoroughly."

"Uncle!" His face feeling stretched by the width of his smile, Octavius spun to face the speaker. "You crept up on us without announcing yourself."

"It is lucky that you were not speaking ill of me, then, isn't it?" Caesar's amused smile hinted at the possibility that he had, indeed, been listening for some time.

Octavius cast aside the insinuation with a wave of the hand. "Luck is for gamblers," he remarked, before artfully changing the subject. "How was your journey?"

"Tedious." Rolling his eyes, Caesar dropped the bag he had been holding to the ground at his feet. "I forgot that it is market day today. I had to pause on no less than five occasions to let livestock cross in front of me. I could swear the brutes slowed down just to spite me!" Pausing, he reached out to clutch Octavius' hands warmly within his own. "But you shouldn't encourage my complaining, dear Nephew. You know how carried away I can become."

Octavius laughed knowingly. "And I enjoy every moment of it."

"You're too kind to me, as always." Smiling, Caesar stepped back a little, although still gripping Octavius' hands, his eyes taking in his great nephew's appearance. "You've grown again," he stated, shaking his head slightly. "You become more a man with my every absence."

Octavius felt his face colouring slightly. "Thank you," he muttered.

As though sensing his discomfit, Caesar dropped Octavius' hands, turning to the younger boy at his side. "And you, if I remember correctly," he began warmly, "are Marcus Agrippa, although you too have grown significantly since our last meeting."

"I am he," Agrippa replied quietly, his formal tone betraying his nervousness.

"I take it you have become a friend of my nephew." Caesar nodded thoughtfully. "I am glad." The reflective look in his eyes was quickly replaced by a mischievous glint. "You have good taste!"

"Uncle!" Octavius protested, laughing despite himself. "You speak as if I were some chef's delicacy!"

"Speaking of which..." Caesar dropped his voice so that Octavius had to strain to make out the words. "I presume your mother has prepared far too much food as usual."

Octavius nodded evilly.

"And she will expect me to somehow sample it all, I suppose?"

Octavius nodded again. "And we will be forced to eat the remains for a week."

"It is good to know that there are some things in this world that will always stay the same," Caesar laughed, before turning to Agrippa. "I hope you have a large appetite," he remarked lightly. "I fear I'm going to need your help this evening."

"My mother says I'm more expensive to feed than my father ever was," Agrippa admitted.

"He eats five times as much as I do," Octavius agreed teasingly. "You should see the piles of food he brings to school each day."

Agrippa glared at him, only half-jokingly. "It wouldn't be difficult to eat more than you," he pointed out. "You barely eat a thing."

"I don't get a chance with you around," Octavius threw back.

Caesar laughed easily. "If I had wanted confirmation of your friendship, then I believe I have been awarded it. And I shall watch you both carefully during our meal to ascertain that the difference in your appetites is exactly as you claim, Thurinus."

"Then I shall be careful to ensure that it is," Octavius grinned, before pushing Agrippa forward in a less than gentle manner. "Now, wasn't there something you wished to say to my uncle," he prompted, "that had nothing to do with my eating habits?"

Agrippa's eyes widened amusingly as he realised what Octavius was referring to. "Oh. Um. Yes. I..." He paused for a moment, clearing his throat in a clichéd display of preparation before continuing. "I... I wanted to thank you for r-..."

Caesar cut him off before he could finish his stammered words of thanks. "Please," he interjected kindly. "There's no need to thank me. Your father is one of my best men and it's not as though I've not the money to spare." He threw Octavius a sly glance. "Although, I hear the sources of my fortune are somewhat dubious..."

"Oh, so you've heard that one too?" Octavius replied without so much as blinking.

"I believe it's one of Pompey's." Returning his attention to Agrippa, he continued in a more light-hearted manner. "I'd suggest that your thanks would best be saved, anyway. After a few more months of regular contact with my nephew, you may be more inclined to curse me."

Agrippa gave Octavius a shy smile. "I find that unlikely."

Caesar stared at them both for a while before nodding. "Perhaps you're right," he remarked mildly, although Octavius found that there was something a little unsettling about the strength of his gaze.

After what seemed like minutes, Caesar finally looked away, glancing towards the entrance to the kitchen. "Now, if you'll both excuse me for a few minutes, I should inform my niece of my arrival before she sends a party out to search for me. If I don't return, it will be because I have been overwhelmed by mountains of food." Smiling, he clasped each of their hands in turn, before disappearing into the kitchen.

"Isn't he wonderful?" Octavius sighed as soon as Caesar was out of view.

Agrippa laughed. "I'm not sure that's the word I would have chosen," he teased. "But I will agree that he is remarkably amiable for a man of his status."

"He can be a little too amiable at times," Octavius agreed. "Especially where his enemies are concerned."

"You are lucky to have such a successful and good-natured relation," Agrippa continued, with what sounded like a trace of envy in his tone. "There is no-one of note in my immediate family."

"Perhaps you will be the first," Octavius shrugged. "At least you can not be accused of failing to live up to the achievements of those before you." He frowned slightly, realising that he had revealed more of his own anxieties than he had intended. "But enough of talk of the future. Shall I praise my uncle to you some more instead?"

"Go ahead, if it would please you."

"Of what should I speak?" Octavius asked, only half in jest. "Shall I discuss the brilliance of his military tactics, or his skill in oratory? Or perhaps I should praise his attractive physique and countenance."

Agrippa laughed nervously. "Perhaps the latter would best be left to the matrons more qualified to judge such matters!"

"Are they?" Octavius smiled teasingly. "Was it not Plato who spoke of the truest love of all being that between two men?"

Agrippa was beginning to look rather uncomfortable, Octavius was pleased to note. "Perhaps, but he was a Greek," the younger boy replied, as if the statement provided the consummate rebuttal.

On a moment or two's consideration, Octavius decided that this was, perhaps, actually the case, going by some of the passages they had recently been studying at school. For men of such great intellect, at times it seemed as though the Classical authors were too far removed from reality to make a great deal of sense.

"Greek or not, I still maintain that my uncle's appearance is praiseworthy," he finally answered, deciding that teasing Agrippa was not nearly as much fun when he managed to produce a solid contrary argument.

"Why did he call you Thurinus?" Agrippa asked, changing the subject in a less than subtle manner.

"That?" A little embarrassed, Octavius waved a hand as if to dismiss the question. "It was a childhood nickname. My father had a victory in that region shortly after I was born. My uncle is the only of my relatives to persist in using the name."

Octavius did not feel the need to explain that the title seemed to take on a different significance when used by Caesar. He had forbidden his mother from using such a reference to infancy several years ago, along with the other members of his family, but he could never bring himself to request the same of his great uncle. Spoken in the deep, rich tone of Caesar's voice, Thurinus became less a reference to the past and more a cherished term of endearment. Agrippa, however, did not need to know of such weaknesses. As amicable a companion as he had initially proven to be, it was far too soon for Octavius to consider entrusting him with such personal revelations.

He had, however, been quite enjoying the company of the other youth. While he tended to become rather quiet in the company of those he felt to be above him in status, Agrippa had quickly proven to have a fast wit and a dry sense of humour that tended to catch Octavius by surprise.

He had not yet made a friend of Maecenas, but that had not surprised Octavius at all. As his closest friend, Maecenas had always been quite jealously possessive of the position. Agrippa was well liked by most of the other boys at their school, however - certainly more so than Octavius himself, who had always preferred to remain distant from much of the schoolyard socialisation, which he viewed as being needlessly juvenile. Despite the doubtless attempts of their peers to convince him otherwise, though, Agrippa had remained loyal to his new friendship with Octavius - or, indeed, to his debt to Caesar.

Whether he could truly be trusted, though, would only be proven with time.

"I didn't really have a nickname," Agrippa said thoughtfully, frowning a little, as if to physically prompt a memory. "My family called me Marc, but that's more an abbreviation than anything."

Octavius nodded. "My uncle uses the same when speaking to Antonius."

"Wait!" Agrippa's eyes widened, the frown disappearing entirely. "When I was very young, the elder of my brothers would always call me 'little one'. He's not done so for about ten years now." Grinning sheepishly, Agrippa looked down at his sturdy form. "I don't think it's as appropriate these days."

"Size is relative," Octavius remarked pointedly, taking care not to glance at this own slight physique.

"I think it has something to do with eating five times as much as everyone else..."

"That will be considered a talent on this occasion." Octavius glanced towards the kitchen and was greeted with the sight of a slave bringing out the first of the evening's dishes. "I see we are to start eating soon."

Agrippa eyed the parade of food hungrily as it emerged from the kitchen. "I feel as though I've not eaten for years!"

Shaking his head - causing his fringe to fall so far forward that it completely obscured his left eye - Octavius gestured for Agrippa to lead the way into the dining area. "Then perhaps you might eat six times as much as me this evening," he laughed, following on behind.

As usual, Octavius finished eating long before those around him, abandoning the dining couches and heavily laden tables in favour of the relative calm of the adjoining room, where he could still catch snatches of conversation and watch a small part of the goings on.

He had only been there for a few minutes when he was joined by Caesar, who emerged from the dining room still chewing on the final mouthful of his meal.

"Your mother has outdone herself yet again," he commented, pulling up a chair across from Octavius. "I think I will hide in here with you for a while before attempting to squeeze in some more of the dishes she's prepared in my honour."

"If you cannot manage, I'm sure Agrippa will gladly eat your portion as well as his own," Octavius replied, rolling his eyes.

"He's a good young man."

Octavius shrugged. "I suppose so."

Caesar regarded him carefully. "You seem reluctant to agree. I thought you were friends."

"We are, I guess. I like him well enough, but surely it's too soon to know whether he is really to be trusted."

"You've an older mind that I'll ever have," Caesar laughed, reclining back in his chair and causing the wicker to creak softly under his weight. "You're far too suspicious for a fifteen year old, Thurinus. I have heard only good spoken of young Agrippa, and a man couldn't wish for a soldier and supporter more loyal than his father. It is my guess that his son will be a good and loyal friend to you for as long as you return the favour."

Octavius smiled cynically. "It is not me he is loyal to, dear Uncle, but rather you - and your patronage."

"Are they not one and the same?" Caesar teased. "For who is there in all of Rome who does not know how highly I regard you, both as a kinsman and a friend?"

Despite himself, Octavius could feel his cheeks beginning to redden. "Thank you," he muttered, eyes downcast, "but I still believe that it is different."

"Maybe so," Caesar replied mildly, "but I believe you are underestimating Agrippa. I have seen the way he regards you and I think, perhaps, his loyalties are divided."

Regaining his composure a little, Octavius shrugged. "If not, then it only proves that he has faultless taste in being devoted to you."

Caesar raised an eyebrow, for a moment looking remarkably like his great nephew, but obviously thought better of arguing. Instead, he glanced towards the shadows lengthening on the walls and shook his head slightly. "I must be growing old and forgetful," he mused. "We've already eaten, and I'm yet to quiz you about recent events." Octavius could detect a sly glint in his eye as he continued. "We must make up for ill-spent time. Tell me, have you succeeded yet in capturing the hearts of all the local girls?"

Octavius attempted to stifle a laugh but failed. "Only the hearts of the local matrons, I'm afraid!" He leant in closer, as if to reveal some dastardly secret. "They flock around me whenever I visit the temples as if to protect me from the wind, fussing with my hair and commenting on my expressions as though I possessed a dozen mothers." He sighed dramatically. "If I am ever to marry, I fear it will be to some older man's cast away. My step-children will be as old as I am."

Caesar smiled indulgently. "I am sure that will not be the case."

"You haven't seen it!" Octavius argued. "There are times when I fear for my life." He grinned evilly. "Well... either my life or my chastity..."

"Your days are quite obviously plagued!" Caesar laughed. "Perhaps I should be having you schooled with young girls so that your charms are put to better use." He paused, looking calculatingly at Octavius. "Or is it that you are content with boys?"

Octavius' smile became something of a smirk as he pushed his fringe out of his eyes. "You have obviously not seen the boys with whom I spend my days!"

"I have seen Agrippa," Caesar pointed out.

"And?" Raising an eyebrow, Octavius laughed. "I can assure you, Uncle, I am not about to start mooning over him or any of the other children at my school." He shook his head vehemently, causing his hair to fall straight back forward again, before adding, "just as they are unlikely to start mooning over me."

Leaning forward, Caesar gently brushed Octavius' fringe to one side. "It is not only Agrippa whom you underestimate," he said softly, looking at Octavius with such an intensity that it made the youth's heart thump a little faster. "I can assure you that you will break many a heart in your lifetime."

Octavius laughed nervously. "I sincerely doubt it."

Caesar pressed a single finger to Octavius' lips, silencing him. "For once in your life," he began lightly, "show a little respect for your elders and do not argue with me on this issue."

Despite the tone of his great uncle's voice, however, Octavius was horrified. "But I do respect you, Uncle!" he cried.

"I know," Caesar replied, suddenly serious. "I know."

They sat in silence for a while, before Caesar rekindled the conversation with a change of subject. "You have not yet asked me why I chose to become a patron to young Agrippa," he pointed out teasingly, "although I sense it is an explanation you would be greatly interested by."

"I did not think it was my business to question you on the subject," Octavius admitted.

"But you would like to know?" Caesar prompted.

"Agrippa believes you must be aiming for a better educated military class." Octavius frowned. "I'm not sure I can see the sense in that, however. What good are Greek conjugations to a soldier?"

"You have a point, Thurinus, as long as your enemy is not a Greek..."

"Obviously," Octavius agreed. "But it still seems a little... unnecessary."

"Agreed. Which is why, I'm afraid, Agrippa's theory is incorrect." Caesar glanced over at the remaining diners. "Perhaps you should steal him away from the meal for a few moments so that I can explain to both of you at the one time."

Octavius nodded, and quickly went to fetch Agrippa, who left his place without complaint, even if he did throw a rather wistful glance back towards his loaded plate.

"My uncle wishes to speak to us about his patronage," Octavius hissed by way of explanation.

"But he does not need to explain!" Agrippa protested. "It is enough that he do it without him having to disclose his reasons."

"Shh!" Octavius glared at him. "I would like to know, even if you would not."

Agrippa closed his mouth abruptly and nodded meekly, following Octavius and taking a seat at his side without further comment.

"I'm afraid I've been an interfering old great uncle," Caesar began, holding up a hand to quiet Octavius when he opened his mouth to refute the self-accusation. "I assure you, however, that I have only assumed such a role out of love." He smiled gently at Octavius before turning to Agrippa. "Although I am pleased that I can prove useful in furthering your education, Agrippa, I fear I had an alternative motive in mind when I proposed my sponsorship of your schooling to your father." He cast a quick, and rather wary, look in Octavius' direction before continuing. "When I had you placed in the same school as my great nephew, I was rather hoping that the two of you would become friends. I have heard many positive things about you, Agrippa. I think you are just the sort of associate young Octavius will need once he moves beyond school and into public life. And," he added, "I believe he could also benefit much from your friendship at the present time."

"Uncle!" Octavius exclaimed, unable to stay quiet any longer. "Do you really think so little of me as to allocate me a minder?"

Caesar frowned. "I had feared that would be how you assessed my actions." He smiled apologetically at Agrippa before turning to take Octavius' hands into his own. "How many times have I told you how great a man you are going to be?" he asked softly.

"Many," Octavius replied grumpily.

"And how broad is your knowledge of military tactics and experience in matters of warfare?"

"Narrow. But I'm only fifteen," Octavius protested. "That will come!"

"True. But how is your health?" Caesar persisted.

"Not as it could be," Octavius admitted grudgingly.

"Then can you not see at least a little logic in my actions?" Caesar asked, squeezing Octavius' hands. "I don't wish to appoint you a minder, but rather to surround you with those who will truly ensure your wellbeing and success."

"I suppose I can understand that," Octavius muttered.

"Maecenas' terrible poetry will not win you any wars," Caesar pointed out, a mischievous glint flickering in his eyes, "any more than it will win him great acclaim."

"It isn't so bad," Octavius replied loyally, if not convincingly.

"It is," Caesar argued, "and it is made worse by his habit of reciting his latest disaster to anyone foolish enough to listen."

"He is a good friend," Octavius countered stubbornly.

"He is," Agrippa agreed, speaking quietly, as if reluctant to stand up to his benefactor in such a manner. "He'd do anything for Octavius."

Rather than displeasure, however, his support of Octavius seemed to be received particularly well by Caesar, who smiled at him as though watching a pet investment coming to fruition before turning back to Octavius. "Maecenas is, indeed, a good friend," Caesar said gently. "But surely you have room for more than one of those in your heart and your life..."

"I suppose so," Octavius replied petulantly, then felt a pang of guilt as he saw Agrippa's face crumple slightly due to his lack of enthusiasm. "I mean," he continued quickly, "there must be, if Agrippa and I are friends also."

The small smile twitching at Agrippa's mouth was a surprisingly adequate compensation for the loss of an argument with his great uncle. Even more rewarding, however, was the proud expression on Caesar's face when Octavius turned back to face him.

"You will be a great man, Thurinus," Caesar reaffirmed softly, his dark eyes gazing piercingly into Octavius' own. "I have no doubt about that." He held Octavius' eyes for several disconcertingly powerful seconds, before blinking firmly and turning to regard the still-laden dining tables, dropping Octavius' hands in the process.

"Now!" he said, perhaps a little too brightly. "I suppose I should stage another attack on your mother's vast feast. Will either of you join me?" He looked towards Agrippa, but seemed quite reluctant to meet Octavius' eyes.

"No, thank you," Octavius mumbled, feeling a little drained by the moment of intense eye contact.

"I will keep Octavius company," Agrippa added, not seeming too saddened by the sacrifice of further feasting.

Caesar's smile did not seem quite as certain this time. "I will speak to you both later, then," he said rather formally, before disappearing into the dining area.

"He is a very good great uncle to you," Agrippa commented quietly once Caesar had gone.

"I know," Octavius replied, managing a small smile.

"And, Agrippa went on, speaking slowly, as though choosing each word carefully, "if my only repayment for Caesar's generosity is to be your friend, then I find it a most uneven contract."

Octavius' smile grew a little. "You know," he began. "For a soldier's son, you're not too bad, 'little one'."

Agrippa laughed. "You're not too bad yourself, Thurinus," he said warmly. "Not too bad at all."