Drusus couldn't shake the sight of his family's strange behaviour.
Especially that of his younger brother.
Vacant eyes.
A dazed expression.
And his parents—forcing smiles, forcing happiness.
"What in the world is going on?"
He could understand them if they were fawning over Julia—she was the youngest after all—the baby.
But now a wet nurse cared for her day and night.
And his mother?
Always beside Caligula.
'Why him? Why now?'
From a distance, he spied on them—his parents cooing at the dumb Caligula, who only stared into nothing—again.
They sat in the small pavilion at the corner of their hortus, holding his hands, murmuring soft words to a boy who gave nothing back.
Drusus hissed like a snake.
Earlier, he had even tried to get 'injured' again.
But his father only scolded him—then rushed back to Caligula the moment the boy sneezed.
He scoffed, then his face twisted bitterly.
Remembering last night—
His parents summoned them to the tablinum, all serious and solemn.
Drusus' heart drummed through his chest.
'They're gonna announce it now!' he peeked at Nero who had a stupidly calm expression.
'See! I told you, didn't I!'
And there, Drusus learned the truth.
'This is a grave mistake!'
The reason his father talked about retirement so many nights ago.
It was because Caligula had caught a sickness.
'I believe it is a curse!'
The reason they would leave the Palatine.
It was for his brother's recuperation.
It wasn't even a recuperation for his father that had gone to war.
'He is cursing this family!'
The moment his mother spoke those words, Drusus' world tilted.
And then—snap.
He wanted to protest—roll on the floor and act like a brat—but he knew it was of no use.
His mother was a steel.
His father—determined.
'Of course,' he thought, clenching his fist, nails biting deep into his palm.
'It was because of him,' he glared at the floor.
It wasn't unrest at the military base.
It wasn't the people pushing Germanicus toward the throne.
It wasn't even the Emperor's jealousy.
It was everything his friends whispered about—
When the Emperor bolted out of the triumphal procession, screaming at the nobles in the Palatium—then acted as if nothing happened once the banquet started.
Drusus knew more about Roman politics than any of the Imperial children.
Thanks to his patrician friends who loved to gossip, who parroted secrets as if they owned them.
Like they knew what they were really talking about.
They were his sources.
'And where would they hear such things if not from their loose-tongued parents?'
But the reason.
The sole cause of his father wanting to drop and leave everything behind—
To turn his back on Rome, on his legacy—
On Drusus.
'I would not share this with them—'
It was all Caligula's fault.
'It's too shameful to share with anyone!'
He was sure that they would laugh at him, at his father.
They'll be branded as cursed!
Or even worse—a coward!
Drusus' irritation curdled into a raw, unadulterated fury that hardened into resolve.
'I'll make you pay someday,' he promised darkly, his eyes locked on his younger brother.
That very night, a lone messenger rode from the Palatium to their humble abode—bearing a summons.
A decree.
From Emperor Tiberius himself.
Drusus begged, pleaded, even went to an extreme—creating a dramatic scene.
He kneeled before his father—beseeching—to let him come along with Germanicus to the Palatium.
He clung to his father's arms like a monkey, even swore that he would behave his best.
That he wouldn't be a burden.
He even shed a tear.
Real tears.
Surely that would win him favor.
"Take me with you to the Palatium, Father! Please! Have mercy!"
Drusus wanted to escape their domus if only for a moment—to escape the torture of seeing his mother cuddling Caligula.
And it wasn't like everyone could get there in the Palatium—invited.
It could take weeks, forever or not at all!
'I have to go there!'
Germanicus, worn down by his son's persistence, relented.
He even ruffled Drusus' hair—the same color as his—like he always did before.
Before his younger brother got cursed.
And Drusus relished the attention.
The next morning, once they got to the Palatium, Emperor Tiberius—his grandfather, old and looking wise—declared that Germanicus would be sent to Antioch.
They stood there in front of the senators.
"The commotion in the East could only be settled by the wisdom of Germanicus," Tiberius began in a solemn voice.
"... for his own years were trending to their autumn, and those of Drusus—"
His heavy gaze drifted to Drusus, Germanicus' son—who held his breath—lingering for what felt like an eternity, before he continued.
"—were as yet scarcely mature."
(Excerpt from The Annals of Tacitus—Tacitus, Annals II.43)
The Emperor compared and justified Germanicus' experiences to that of his own son, also named Drusus.
Drusus the Younger.
Drusus Caesar's uncle.
One name.
Two different sons.
But only one remembered.
And it wasn't him.
'One was almost forgotten,' Drusus bit his lip, he was being theatrical.
Germanicus stood rigid, his entire body betraying himself.
Drusus studied his father.
'He looks awkward.'
Yet his father said nothing.
Didn't argue.
Didn't protest.
Despite the way his jaw clenched, despite the way his shoulders tensed, it seemed that his father had no choice.
But Drusus dismissed what he observed.
Pure and raw joy surged through him.
Tiberius' praise and his father's discomfort didn't matter to him.
'This is it!'
His heart almost beat out of his chest.
'Fate had intervened!'
He wanted to jump with glee.
'The gods have not abandoned me yet!'
They weren't leaving Rome for some smelly distant farm!
His father won't be retiring!
They would go to the East!
'Travelling!'
He believed that the gods had saved him—never guessing what fate awaited them in Antioch.
All he wanted was to break free!
Escape from the stifling atmosphere of their home, the suffocating attention lavished on Caligula.
Then realization struck—
'Oh… all of us are coming. Even him.'
He froze, as if doused with a bucketful of cold water.
'But still!'
Ways to avoid his brother quickly filled his mind, and his triumph returned.
Now he could already see himself boasting to his friends, imagining their great envy.
Little did he know… that this journey would change everything—his father's destiny and his own.
Fate, it seemed, was not so easily bent.
That night, as Drusus rode the chariot home beside Germanicus, his body felt lighter.
And for the first time in weeks, he fell asleep with a smile on his lips.
Then one month later, they left Rome…
**
CREDITS:
"The commotion in the East could only be settled by the wisdom of Germanicus for his own years were trending to their autumn, and those of Drusus were as yet scarcely mature."
—from The Annals of Tacitus—Book II.43
This story draws upon historical accounts of Germanicus before and after his time in the East, particularly Tacitus' Annals, which offers a comprehensive account of the era, and the works of Suetonius and Dio Cassius—who were known historians.