lianadelune

[lianadelune]

Aegon II Targaryen & Gaius Julius Caesar

House of the Dragon, s02e03 Domina, s01e01

[lianadelune]

Aegon II Targaryen & Gaius Julius Caesar

House of the Dragon, s02e01 Domina, s01e02

[lianadelune]

If I was in Asoiaf world, I would become a lady knight just so I can win tourney to grant him the flower crown and name him the king of love and beauty.

Might as well write that idea

[lianadelune]

golden bars, fragile hearts

pairing: caracalla x reader

part 1 | part 2 | this is part 3 !

the weight of your new role settled on your shoulders like an iron yoke as you stood at the threshold of the emperor’s private quarters once again. the scent of spiced wine and aged parchment clung to the air, mingling with the faint aroma of burning myrrh. servants hurried past you in silence, their eyes carefully averted as they placed trays of fruit, roasted meat and fresh bread on the long table.

your stomach was tight with nerves, your hands twisted and turned the fabric of your dress trying to ease your nerves, you had long bitten your nails to the quick long ago but still it didn’t help your nervousness.

your first morning as caracalla’s personal servant had been spent memorizing his schedule, learning his preferences, and understanding the unspoken rules that governed the palace, but nothing could have prepared you for the moment you would finally step into his presence as more than just another nameless servant in the background.

you entered his chambers with wobbly legs, trying your best to not fall on your face in front of the emperor of rome, the emperor that could decapitate you for something as simple as tripping. caracalla was standing near the large table where his meal had been laid out. his back was to you, broad shoulders covered in a deep crimson tunic, gold embroidery catching the light from the torches. his ginger hair was still damp from his bath, you noticed how it curled slightly at the ends.

he didn’t acknowledge you at first, his focus was on a series of documents spread before him that he was clearly not paying attention to.

you took a deep breath, steadying yourself.

another servant had already poured his wine, but no one dared to approach him directly yet.

that was your responsibility now.

you stepped forward, careful to not make a sound.

“dominus”, you said softly, thanking the gods your voice didn’t shake.

his head lifted slightly, but he did not turn. “you are late”

your fingers curled at your sides. you had arrived precisely when instructed, but you knew better than to argue. “forgive me”

a long pause.

then, he finally turned.

his blue eyes swept over you, slow and assessing, as if deciding wheter or not you were worth his attention. the air felt heavier under his scrutiny.

“you are to serve me now,” he stated, as if you were unaware. his voice was calm but carried the waight of authority. “that means you’ll anticipate my needs before i voice them. you will fetch my meals, clean my chambers and follow my orders without question. do you understand?”

you swallowed and nodded “yes, dominus”

caracalla’s gaze lingered for a moment longer before he took a seat at the table.

he gestured toward the plate in front of him, the movement almost lazy.

“serve me”

you hesitated only for a second before stepping forward, picking up the carved knife to cut slices of meat for him. your hands were not as steady as you would like as you carefully arranged the portions as you have been taught.

he watched you the entire time.

you could feel his gaze like a physical touch, studying your every movement, searching for anything that could be considered a mistake.

you moved next to pour his wine, carefully to not spill a single drop feeling his eyes on you the entire time, you wanted to snap at him asking why was he staring at you so hard, but you knew if you lost your composure it was the last thing you would say in this life.

“you are quiet”, he observed.

“i was told to be”

his lips curved slightly - something that was not quite a smirk, but now a smile either.

“and if i told you to speak?”

you set the wine jug down and met his gaze “then i would”

a beat of silence.

then, he laughed.

your eyes widened with the sound.

it was low and brief, but it was there, you remember seeing caracalla smile and yell at the gladiator fights but never saw him actually laugh like this. amusement flickered across his face, though his eyes remained unreadable.

“interesting,” he murmured, taking a sip of his wine.

you stood at his side taking a deep breath, hands clasped before you, waiting for his next command.

caracalla continued eating in silence for a time while the other servants left the room in a hurry, and you thought - perhaps - this would be easier than you had feared.

but then, without warning, his voice cut through the silence.

“by all means please talk”

“dominus?” you asked, confused, wondering if you had heard him properly.

“i would like to know what you are thinking” he looked back at you, his gaze darkened, curiosity sharpened into something more dangerous.

surely he was teasing you, you thought with yourself, but refused to back down.

“what do you truly want from me?”

“that remains to be seen” caracalla looked right into your eyes with a cold, calculating expression as if he already had plans for you in his mind but refused to share whatever it is that he was thinking “you intrigue me. few would dare to stand against me in my own arena. fewer still would survive it”

“i didn’t do it for you,” you snapped, regretting saying anything as soon as you finished the sentence.

“no,” he said softly after taking a sip of his wine, something that surprised you, you had heard of servants that had been killed for far less. “you did it for him. a noble act, but noble acts don’t last long in rome. you’ll learn that soon enough”

the scent of roasting meats and spiced wine thickened the air as you stepped through the palace corridors, walking just behind caracalla as you made your way toward the senate chambers. the usual quiet dignity of the imperial halls had been overtaken by a restless energy. servants rushed past carrying baskets of fresh fruits, their arms hurried with bolts of silk and gold-threaded linens, their footsteps muffled by the marble floors.

in the distance, you could hear the rhythmic clang of trays being arranged, but sharp bark of a steward chastising a cook, and the hurried whispers of palace officials ensuring every detail of the banquet was in place. a group of musicians stood in the corner of the hall, arguing over which instruments would be most fitting for the evening’s revelry.

caracalla, unfazed by the chaos, strode forward with his usual confident gait, his crimson cloak billowing behind him. you kept pace beside him, feeling the weight of curious glances from the passing servants.

as you reached the grand atrium, you passed a row of slaves arranging goblets of silver and gold, each one meant for a guest of high status. the senate would be there, the generals, the noble families - all called upon to indulge in the emperor’s excess. you couldn’t help but wonder if this feast was just another display of power, a reminder of rome’s decadence under its rulers.

caracalla suddenly glanced at you. “you’re quiet. i told you before i want you to speak freely in my presence”

you turned your head slightly. “just watching everything unfold.”

he smirked. “does it amuse you to see the city scramble at my whim?”

you hesitated. “it’s… impressive, how quickly they obey. but i can’t help but think - this much excess, all for one night?”

his smirk didn’t fade, but something in his gaze darkened. “luxury is a reminder. the people must see our power, not just hear of it. a hungry rome is a dangerous rome, but a rome drowning in wine and pleasure? that’s a city that forgets to rebel.”

you look away, your gaze falling on the golden torches lining the walls, their flames flickering in the midday light. you wanted to tell him that the senate and the nobles weren’t the only ones he needed to worry about, his people had been living with the bare minimum for years and you didn’t know for how much longer they would accept to live like that, the riots were getting worse for months now, it would come a time when gladiator fights wouldn’t be enough to placate the anger, but you tightened your lips and didn’t utter a word.

tonight, the palace would be a different place - filled with laughter, music, and indulgence.

but beneath it all, the weight of the empire remained.

the senate doors loomed ahead, their towering bronze surface marked with the scars of time. as the guards pulled them open, the sounds of hurried banquet preparations faded behind them, replaced by the solemn murmurs of politics and power.

the empire feasted tonight, but first it ruled.

for the rest of the day you followed caracalla between meetings with the senate, always pouring wine before his cup was empty to calm his nerves and anxious demeanor obviously excited for the feast, to his shared office with his twin brother.

the office was filled with the scent of ink and parchment, the air thick with the weight of unfinished work. scrolls and wax-sealed documents were stacked high on geta’s desk, a sharp contrast to the clear space on caracalla’s side, where only a goblet of wine sat untouched. the afternoon sun streamed through open archways, casting long shadows across the marble floors as you stood quietly to the side, awaiting instruction.

caracalla, sprawled in his chair, drummed his fingers against the armrest, his thoughts nowhere near the office matters at hand. Instead, his blue eyes gleamed with restless anticipation. “the feast will be grand,” he mused, his voice thick with satisfaction. “the best wine, the rarest meats… people will talk about it for months.”

geta, hunched over a document, let out an exasperated sigh. “yes, brother. we have already established that. perhaps now, we could actually do the work required to keep this empire from crumbling beneath us?” he gestured to the untouched stack of decrees “or is your mind too occupied with indulgences?”

caracalla scoffed, waving a dismissive hand “indulgences keep rome entertained. a distracted people do not plot rebellion”

“they also do not run an empire” geta pinched the bridge of his nose before shooting a glance toward you, who had remained silent, observing the exchange “how do you tolerate him talking about this damn feast all day?”

you blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the question.

“it is not my place to comment, your highness”, you answered carefully.

caracalla smirked.

“a wise response” he turned back to his brother. “besides, the banquet is important. there will be generals there, senators - people who need reminders of where their loyalty should lie.”

geta exhaled, clearly at the end of his patience. “and what of these orders from the provinces? we have shortage of grain in the east, uprisings in germania-”

“handled,” caracalla interrupted, his tone growing sharp. “the legions have been sent. the governors will do as they are commanded”

geta gave him a long, scrutinizing look. “you are playing a dangerous game, brother. you indulge yourself while the world waits for an opportunity to strike”

caracalla merely leaned back, tilting his head towards you. “tell me, do they look concerned?”

you stiffened under their attention, but caracalla’s gaze remained unwavering. “they are quiet because they listen unlike half the fools in the senate,” he mused. “they observe, weights the worth of words before they speak. a trait more valuable than most realize.”

caracalla smirked and turned towards you.

“tell me,” he mused, “would you not enjoy such a sight? music, dancers, the kind of celebration that reminds people why we rule and they serve?”

you hesitated, considering your words, caracalla had told you before he wanted to know what you got to say, but what if he doesn’t like your words? would he throw you in the coliseum and laugh while you fight for your life? but there was an expectation in his gaze, as if he truly cared for your answer.

“i think… grandeur has its place,” you said carefully, “but there’s more to ruling than feasts”

geta chuckled, finally looking up. “they have more sense than you, brother”

caracalla waved him off. “sense is for men with dull lives. i prefer to live as the gods intended - without restraint.” he turned to you once again “you’ll see tonight. this will be a banquet worthy of rome.”

geta sighed and resumed his work, muttering about wasted resources and the absurdity of last-minute preparations, but caracalla was relentless, continuing to revel in his own plans, detailing every extravagant element of the evening.

not long after that the discussion shifted. geta brought up matters of state, affairs of war, and the ongoing tensions in the senate. his tone grew more serious, and with it, so did his expression.

“this is not a discussion for servants,” geta stated, still looking at the papers in front of him. “leave us”

before you could move, caracalla’s voice rang out.

“they stay”

geta’s eyes narrowed, as if he couldn’t believe his brother was against him in this matter. you froze in place.

“they are my personal servant” caracalla continued, emphasizing the word ‘my’ in a way that left no room for argument. “they hear what i hear, and they speak to no one but me.”

there was a finality in his words, an unspoken warning that even geta would not challenge in this moment. but it did not go unnoticed.

geta’s eyes flickered between his brother and you, studying caracalla carefully, his sharp mind piecing things together.

the possessiveness. the attention. the way caracalla’s eyes softened when he looked at you.

it was subtle, but geta had always been the more perceptive of the two. and now, he saw something caracalla had yet to recognize himself.

‘interesting’ the younger twin thought.

geta did not speak his suspicions aloud. not yet. instead, he merely gave a small smirk, a silent promise to himself.

he would be watching.

[lianadelune]

I guess my type is emperor/king, with severe mommy issues, jealous of their eldest sibling, killed their sibling, is a manwhore, an unhinged personality, got abruptly killed by their own men, entitled man-child, has a pet they cherish, and probably has syphilis

[lianadelune]

"I think both Geta and Caracalla, they have a desperation, they have a real need that's been completely unmet. They want to be taken care of somehow, and that doesn't help or positively affect how they're ruining the empire since they are leaders, but I think there's a part of him and a part of them that just want to be sort of held."

- Fred Hechinger on Geta & Caracalla: CinemaBlend

[lianadelune]

Are we going to get any more chapters of ma meilleure ennemie?

yess!! probably by the end of next week when i start my vacation, i still need to edit the next 2 chapters so by then i'll have finished my exams and will have more time to write :D

[lianadelune]

golden bars, fragile hearts

pairing: caracalla x reader

part 1 | this is part 2 !

the roar of the colosseum faded behind you, the cheers and jeers melting into the oppressive silence of the imperial guards marching at your sides. your steps felt heavy, your legs trembling beneath you, but you forced yourself to keep moving. you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing you stumble.

especially him.

the streets of rome stretched wide and desolate under the twilight, their usual buzz of activity reduced to scattered groups of beggars and merchants pulling their carts home. the guards paid no mind to weary faces that turned to watch their procession, their armor gleaming dully in the fading light, you caught glimpses of their stares - some pitying, others indifferent, but most of them were glimmering with curiosity, you realized it wouldn’t take long for your name to be whispered in the tavern and marketplaces: the girl who traded her freedom to save her father.

you grind your teeth to not yell and curse at them, it wasn’t their fault, it wasn’t their fault they couldn’t do nothing to help but stare while you were being taken to your ruin, you took a deep breath and thought about your father hoping he wasn't blaming himself for your actions, if they had let you at least talk to him for one minute after taking you…

“move faster,” barked one of the guards, his voice sharp enough to snap you from your thoughts.

you quickened your pace, though every step felt like you were walking towards your doom.

as you approached the towering gates of the imperial palace, you couldn’t help but tilt your head back to take in its full scale, the marble façade glowing faintly in the dim light of the setting sun.

one of the guards steered you towards a side entrance. the corridor you entered was narrow and dimly lit, the walls bare and the air heavy with the scent of old stone. you shivered, though the evening wasn’t cold.

“do you know what awaits you?” one of the guards muttered, you noticed his tone wasn’t mocking but wasn’t kind either.

you decided to not respond, keeping your gaze fixed ahead.

you didn’t want to admit you had no idea what caracalla would do to you, what his plans were for someone that so boldly defied him and his brother, but you were certain of one thing.

it wouldn’t be pleasant.

for you at least.

you passed through more winding halls, the grandeur of the palace growing more oppressive with every step. gold leaf adorned the ceilings and mosaics covered the floors, depicting scenes of battles and the triumph of rome. it was beautiful in a way that made your stomach churn, each piece a reminder of the suffering that had built this empire.

finally you stopped before a heavy wooden door. one of the guards knocked twice, the sound echoing in the quiet corridor. a moment later, the door creaked open, revealing a small, wiry man with sharp features.

“is this them?” he asked, looking at you up and down.

you winced in discomfort and bit your tongue to not say or do something you would regret later.

“yes,” the guard replied. “the emperor ordered them to be brought directly”

the man nodded, stepping aside to let you in. you looked up to the guard that had tried to talk to you moments before silently pleading for something, something, anything that not even you knew what, but he kept his gaze fixed on the door, seeing no way out of this situation as you walked inside.

“you’ll live here from now on,” the man said, stepping outside next to the guards, his tone brooking no argument.

you nodded silently while the door shut behind you with a heavy thud, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

the servants’ quarters were a stark contrast to the grandeur of the palace halls. the walls were bare stone, cold and unwelcoming, and the cot you had picked up hoping it was empty, since you haden’t been assigned one, was narrow and hard. a single, thin blanket did little to ward off the chill that seeped through the air, it could have been worse, you thought to yourself. you laid on your back, staring at the cracked ceiling above you, your mind replaying the events of the day in relentless detail.

your father’s anguished face as the guards dragged you away. the roar of the crowd when the deal was struck. the way caracalla had looked at you, his gaze sharp and calculating.

you squeezed your eyes shut, willing the memories to fade, but they only seemed to grow louder in the dark.

after what felt like hours when you finally drifted into a restless sleep, it was no reprieve. your dreams were filled with shadows and echoes - your father’s voice calling out your name, the crowd’s cheers morphing into jeers, and the chilling image of caracalla’s smirk as he claimed your fate, you wanted to yell at your father you would be fine, that he shouldn’t be worried about you but you couldn’t, caracalla’s icy blue eyes freezed you in place, kneeled in front of him you couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move, you barely could breathe the only thing he let you do was look at him, only him.

you woke with a start, your heart pounding and your breath ragged. the room was silent except for the faint murmur of the other servants breathing around you, but the sense of dread lingered, heavy and suffocating. you sat up, wrapping the thin blanket around your shoulders as you stared into the darkness giving up on your sleep knowing those images would torment you for the rest of the night.

when morning came, you could feel a headache coming from the lack of rest but still you rose with the others, moving through the morning routines in a haze, your thoughts clouded and heavy, caracalla’s eyes still haunting you.

it wasn’t long before a guard appeared at the door, his stern expression drawing murmurs from the other servants.

“you,” he barked, his voice cutting through the room like a blade, the man looked directly at you with an emotionless stare.

you stepped forward, your stomach twisting in knots.

“the emperor wants to see you,” the guard said, motioning for you to follow

the walk to caracalla’s chambers felt like a death march. the ornate halls, gilded and gleaming, seemed to mock you with opulence. you couldn’t help but notice the way servants- you passed through avoided your gaze, their faces etched with fear and pity.

when you reached the emperor’s private chambers you were breathless, not because of the long walk but with the thought of meeting the man that had your fate in his hands, the one that could make your life bearable or a living hell, the one person you couldn’t stop thinking about ever since you arrived, that plagued even your dreams. the guard opened the door and gestured for you to enter. you stepped inside, your heart pounding in your chest. caracalla was seated in a high-backed chair near the window, his gaze fixed on the sprawling city below. he looked as imposing as ever, his broad shoulders draped into the golden light streaming through the window, a gold laurel placed on his fiery hair, a permanent reminder of his power and status.

“you slept in the servants’ quarters,” he said, his voice low but sharp.

you hesitated unsure if it was a question or an accusation. “yes,” you replied quietly.

the man turned to face you, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours, reminding you of your nightmare “that won’t do”

you blinked, unsure of what he meant. “i -”

“i remember very clearly that i requested for you to be my personal servant,” he interrupted, rising from his chair. caracalla’s towering presence made the room feel smaller, the air heavier. “i expect you to be available whenever i need you… so you’ll move to a room next to mine”

the weight of his words settled over you like a shroud. a room next to his meant you would always be within reach, your life no longer your own.

“why me?” you found yourself asking before you could stop the words.

his lips quirked into something that might have been a smirk if it weren’t so cold, but said nothing.

the guard reappeared at the door, ready to escort you to your new quarters. as you turned to leave, caracalla’s voice stopped you.

“don’t make me regret my decision” he said, his tone softer but no less commanding.

you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat, and followed the guard out of the room.

your new quarters were far from luxurious but still leagues above the servants’ dormitory. The small room held a proper bed, a washstand, and a window that overlooked the gardens. but the knowledge of who occupied the room next door makes it feel more like a gilded cage than an upgrade.

as you sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the unfamiliar surroundings, you couldn’t shake the feeling that your life had just taken another irrevocable turn

[lianadelune]

Emperor Geta & Emperor Caracalla - A Dream That Was Rome: Origins

[lianadelune]

golden bars, fragile hearts

pairing: caracalla x reader

author's note: i have been working on this fic for a while but lately everything i write i kind of hate, i'm editing this so much i'm getting insane (also college doesn't help) so i decided to finally post it or this fic would stay on my drafts forever 😭

this is part 1!

the sun blazed down on the colosseum, the bloodstained sand reflecting its golden light making

the day feel more heated than anticipated, you remembered hearing on your way to the amphitheater that this was one of the hottest days of the year, that statement felt quite right as you walked the busy streets, sweat dripping from your nose wishing you had drank a glass of water before leaving your house, but your thoughts were elsewhere completely when you stepped outside. you would think that the heat would be a hindrance for the festivities that the people of rome looked forward to, but somehow that didn’t mattered, it didn't mattered for the bloodthirsty emperors, caracalla and geta, the infamous twins, that loved violence and brutality more than the people they should rule and it also didn't mattered for the crowd, the thought of seeing a gladiator fight was worth passing out from heat stroke, apparently.

you could hear their roar, a mix of jeers and cheers that echoed off the stone walls, from your seat you stood frozen hearing their excitement, your heart pounding against your ribs waiting for the moment your father would step into the arena.

you had promised yourself you wouldn’t go, your father made you promise when the praetorian guards came at your door saying the emperors demanded that the man that had won his freedom many years ago would fight again one last time to prove his worth.

when they utter those words you were the one that wanted to fight, fight the guards, fight the emperors and protect the only family you had left, but before you could deliver any profanity, your father lowered his head and expressed how honorable he was to entertain the people of rome once again.

he looked back at you with teary eyes, taking in the simple yet comforting house he was living in even before you were born, the one he worked so hard to build after he bought his freedom killing others just like him, spoils of war, it was poetic really, he thought, his life began as a gladiator and would end as a gladiator, a little chuckle left his lips, the gods really did worked in mysterious ways.

while you tried to come to terms with his decision, your father kissed your forehead lovingly and made you promise you wouldn’t watch before being taken by the praetorian guards.

and you agreed.

but now you were going against your dad’s dying wish.

your jaw tightened as you stood among the roaring crowd, people chanting and cheering for the gladiators, cheers that were as empty as the promises of rome’s twin emperors.

caracalla and geta ruled not through love or respect, but through terror and empty entertainment. the streets of rome were restless, simmering with rebellion that never seemed to fade completely. just weeks ago, riots had broken out in the forum, citizens torching statues of the emperors while shouting for justice. but now, here they were, packed into the colosseum, their rage momentarily silenced by the lure for bloodshed.

‘panem et circenses’ you thought bitterly, watching how easily the crowd forgot their oppression, the chants growing louder as a gladiator fell to his knees ‘bread and circuses are all it takes to dull their anger for a few hours’

but when the games ended and the blood was washed from the sand, the discontent would return. the people would rebel again - you were sure of it - because no amount of free grain or violent spectacles could suppress the desperation in their hearts.

you hoped the emperors were afraid for their heads because sooner or later the act of depredating their statues won’t be enough.

rome was a city on the edge, and your father was about to become its next distraction.

that was the first thought that crossed your mind while you saw your father walk towards the middle of the coliseum.

his gait was uneven, his shoulders hunched - not from cowardice but from the toll of age. the once-celebrated gladiator, who had won his freedom fairly, was now back at being paraded as nothing more than a relic for the crowd’s amusement.

he held his sword steady while raising it to salute the emperor’s box, but you could see the way his hand trembled. your father’s movements were slower than they once had been, but his pride remained unbroken.

your heart clenched. this wasn’t a fight - it was a death sentence.

the announcer’s voice boomed across the arena “behold! a veteran of rome’s might, returning for one last dance with death! will he rise as a lion, or fall as prey?”

the gates on the opposite side of the arena open, and a younger, stronger gladiator stepped forward, his muscles gleaming with sweat, his expression cold and unyielding.

you couldn’t let this happen.

you ran from your seating, hearing people behind you screaming to take your place closer to the bloodshed, pushing past every guard that standed if front of you especially the guards who blocked the lower level of the arena, you ignored their shouts and protests, they couldn’t catch you, too surprised to see someone run towards the arena of the colosseum, instead of run from it. every step felt heavier than the last as your decision bore down on you.

but you didn’t stop.

the sand was hot under your feet and your clothes were sticking on your skin as you stumbled onto the arena floor, drawing the collective gasp of the audience.

your father dropped his sword as his head snapped toward you, his eyes wide with panic.

“get out of here!” he shouted.

but you didn’t listen. you ran to him, your heart hammering in your chest, and threw yourself in front of him, spreading your arms wide as a shield.

the younger gladiator paused mid-step, his brow furrowing in confusion.

the crowd erupted in chaos, excited with something they had never seen before, someone willing to protect a gladiator from their deathbed.

high above, the emperor’s box stirred. you felt their gazes on you, your breath quickening showing your nervousness for having the attention of the infamous rulers of rome on you, but you didn’t back down and stared right back at them in defiance.

caracalla, one of the twin emperors, rose from his seat, the ornate red fabric of his toga trailing behind him as he stepped to the edge of the balcony.

“what is the meaning of this?” he demanded, his voice sharp enough to cut through the noise.

you almost didn’t listen to his words because of your own heart pounding heavily on your rib cage making you nauseous, for a moment you were sure you would pass out.

you ignored the nausea building up and the tremors in your limbs, looking up to the emperors with a steady voice, despite the fear you were feeling, you managed to say “i’m here… to take his place!”

a murmur rippled through the crowd. your father grabbed your arm, his grip strong despite his weakened state. “what are you doing?” he hissed.

without turning to him, you said loud enough for everyone in the colosseum to hear. “i won’t let them kill you!”

caracalla’s piercing gaze locked onto yours seeing determination on them, his expression went from furious to amused in a matter of seconds. “this is… unexpected,” he said, his tone laced with mockery “tell me then, what makes you think you’re in a position to bargain with me?”

“i’m not here to bargain,” you said, raising your chin, your voice cracking a little when you heard your father behind you, pleading with the other gladiator to get you out of there “i’m here… to offer myself. you want a spectacle, don’t you? my father is an old man - he’s no longer fit to fight. there’s no honor in his death. but me?” you gestured to yourself, your voice rising. “i’m young, untrained and foolish enough to face whatever fate you decide, i’m sure that’s far more entertaining than this.”

emperor geta, seated beside caracalla, chuckled “they have a point, brother, he doesn’t look like the legend we heard so much about” his fingers tapped the rim of his wine cup. ���besides… they have spirit. i’ll give them that”

caracalla’s eyes narrowed as he studied you, his expression unreadable. the silence stretched, the weight of his decision hanging over the arena, like a storm cloud.

“bring them to me,” he commanded.

the guards dragged you up the steps to the emperor’s box, their grip firm on your arms to the point of bruising. you stumbled to your knees before caracalla, his imposing frame over you as he stepped closer.

you had heard so much about both emperors, how cruel and unhinged they were, how their reign would be marked in history by decadence, cruelty and chaos, a spectacle of blood and tyranny.

geta was the one everyone thought about when the matter was diplomacy, for he had a talent for weaving words as deftly as a spider spins its web. his voice, always calm and measured, could diffuse tensions or spark them, depending on what suited his ambitions.

geta could be terrible, but to you caracalla was far worse.

a man consumed by his appetites - for control, for blood, for the fleeting thrill of domination. his wrath was as unpredictable as it was unrelenting, unlike his brother, caracalla acted impulsively, driven by bursts of rage, if he felt insulted in the slightest- the emperor would order a village razed.

or several.

you considered him a monster.

a beast.

and nothing could change that.

“you would trade your life for his?” caracalla asked, his voice low and dangerous.

“yes,” you said without hesitation, lifting your gaze to meet his. “my father has served rome for long enough, let him go and take me instead”

“and what makes you think your life is worth more than his?”

“it isn’t” you answered honestly “but i’m still young enough to be at your service, i’ll do anything if you leave him alone”

“anything, you say?” caracalla’s lips curled into a faint smirk “even entertaining me?”

you shivered with the implied meaning of his question, but remained silent.

geta leaned forward, his interest piqued.

“perhaps we should keep them, they're a bold one, brother”

caracalla regarded you for a moment longer, his cold calculating eyes searching yours. then with a sharp nod, he gestured to the guards.

“release the old man, you are going to stay”

your father’s protests echoed beneath you as he was dragged from the arena, but you didn’t look back.

“welcome to your new life,” caracalla said, his voice dripping with mockery. “let’s see if your spirit lasts as long as your courage.”

the emperor barely had finished his sentence when you felt the guard’s ironclad hands gripping your arms once again with a force that left no room for argument, you could feel caracalla’s cold eyes following your every move as you were dragged from the arena, his lips curving into a smirk as though he has claimed a prize rather than a person.

please leave a like or a comment about what you guys are thinking about this fic! i'm kind of insecure with this one :(

[lianadelune]

hey guys i just want to say that i didn't stop writing it's just that i have been having a lot of exams in college but i'm still working on my fics 😭

[lianadelune]

Simon — Fear Street: 1994 (2021)

[lianadelune]

"Ridley had this brillant idea that the Emperors Geta and Caracalla should be young because the average idea of an emperor is a middle aged man"

Joaquin Phoenix who was only 26 when the first Gladiator released: 🤨

Also Denzel was very relatable when he said "they're wicked and awful but you can't help but love them" lol

[lianadelune]

Fred Hechinger at The Drew Barrymore Show (2024)

[lianadelune]

Fred Hechinger at The Drew Barrymore Show (2024)

[lianadelune]

DMITRI SMERDYAKOV