#emperor Caracalla imagines | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kabuki-writes · 2 months ago

Text

A Reflection Of Venus

chapter: 1 chapter 2 | 3 | 4

pairing: emperor geta/emperor caracalla x acacius' daughter!reader

summary: For years Acacius was able to keep his precious and only daughter away from the Emperor's eyes. But after his latest victory, he couldn't evade the already inevitable.

Note: Reader is the daughter of General Acacius and his wife, which is not Lucilla in this fanfiction.

word count: 3.1k

General Acacius was a hero for the Roman Empire, a sun that was burning brighter with every new victory he won in a new war campaign ordered by Emperor Geta and his twin brother Emperor Caracalla. The reign of the twins was nothing compared to one of their deceased father Emperor Septimius Severus, who was once one of the closest friends and brother-in-arms of Acatius. While Severus fought wars mainly to protect the borders of the already massive Empire, his sons' hunger for expansion became clear from the very first day they inherited the title "Emperor". And general Acacius became their tool in this project. Nothing was too expensive, they backed him with legions, war-ships, the best equipment and supply, and the capable general became an unstoppable force, a soldier of the God Mars himself. But at what cost?

As the years went on, he'd rarely been home, always travelling with his marching soldiers and being on the front line of every battle he fought. And when he came back, he felt sick from all the pomp and gold the Emperor's threw at him, the victory processions through Rome, while the smell of blood still lingered in his nose and the cries of the women and children echoed in his mind. It was one of those days. The sun stood high over the wide street that lead to the Palatin, the sides filled with the cheering crowd - common people, soldiers, slaves, senators, merchants, they all celebrated his victory in a triumphant procession. His marching soldiers were led by Acacius chariot, clothed in the white armor of a victor. His face could've been one to be carved in marble, stoic and upright, facing the great Palatin, where the Emperors would await him.

Geta and Caracalla - the twin-sons of Septimius Severus, Emperors of Rome. They stoof there in golden Armor like sun gods with their golden crowns on top of their short gingerblonde hair. Their unusual pale skin was a testament to their wealth as they could afford to stay out of the sun, which burns especially hot on summer days like this one, and of course on the battlefields in Africa, where Acatius' men had to fight against the rebellious Nubians. They awaited their victor with proud smiles on their lips, while Acacius' procession ended at the footsteps of the Emperor's palace. He walked the marble steps towards them, his long cloak moved in tact with his walk. He didn't look forward to see the faces of Rome's tyrants again, but they hadno idea.

Instead, he greeted them as he was used to. His hand on his chest, speaking the words.

"I greet you, my Emperors. Nubia is no more. I present a new victory to you, to the realm and to the Roman people."

With a proud look on their faces and a wide smile, the twins stepped forward. Emperor Geta hold the laurel wreath of victory in his hands and places it on top of Acacius' greying hair.

"And Rome rewards it's heroes with gratitude and admiration. We bow to your victories, General Acacius."

With those words, he offered him to turn around and face the celebrating crowd. Geta and Caracalla took their places at his side, giving him a moment of spotlight, applauded by the people, while they did benefit from it as well. Acatius was their general, their armored knight. Every victory he presented was another triumph for their own reign and power. After the earned celebration in front of the common folk, the Emperors and Acacius retreated inside, where servants quickly served them wine for a toast.

"Another great victory, you never disappoint us, dear Acatius," Geta expressed and hold his glass up for a toast, his brother Caracalla following the gesture. "To the glory of the Roman Empire".

"To the glory of your reign", Acacius lied and took a sip from his glass, trying to numb himself a bit with the taste of the alcohol. How he hated conversations with both of them.

" But don't get too comfy here, my brother and i were already discussing another campaign soon. You'll get everything you need, just tell us how many soldiers and ships and it will be granted," Geta explained, which left a bitter taste in Acacius mouth. His jaw clenched for a moment, while he tried everything not to show his distaste about another war campaign.

"Please forgive me, my Emperor, but isn't the realm big enough already? Rome has already difficulties to feed the people. Further expansion would-"

"They can eat war", Emperor Caracalla threw in with an almost diabotical grin, while Acacius got a warning eye from Geta. It was clear that his words weren't the ones both wanted to hear right now.

"Don't worry about things like that, Acacius. You're a military general, your job is to win battles - nothing more. Do you understand?"

"I understand," he answered, even though he hated to hear that he was reduced to this. He'd experienced war and peace alike and therefore he knew about the dangers of continuing this madness. Moments like this really let him question if those maniacs were of the same blood as Septimius Severus.

"But you're right, you've earned yourself at least a bit of rest - one or two weeks. Don't worry, we've taken care about the wellbeing of your family. They got everything they needed and more in our attempt to show our gratitude for your service to the throne. Speaking of which.... we expect you to join us for a great feast tonight - here in the palace. A party to celebrate your victory, it is accompanied by a couple of fights in the arena tomorrow," Geta explained joyfully, while Acatius tried to keep his mask up.

"I am incredibly honored, but would prefer to spend time with family after being away for such a long time."

"The Emperors show you their gratitude and you're insulting us. We expect you to come and you will come", Caracalla hissed with a sudden shift of tone, his eyes staring at Acacius in clear anger, while his brother placed his hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. But his staring eyes were warning Acatius once again.

"Of course, we don't just invite you, but your whole family. Bring your wife and... you have a daughter, if i'm not mistaken? We haven't had the pleasure of getting to know her yet, since you never brought her to any festivities. I am sure she will be delighted, if you don't plan on hiding her again."

Acacius stood there in silence, a reaction that made Caracalla burst out into laughter as if he'd just heard the funniest joke from his brother. The respected general didn't even look at him, why should he. Standing here in front of them should've been an honor, yet it felt like a disgrace. They were nothing but spoiled kids with the power of an empire in their hands. And now they even forced him to reveal his dear daughter to them. Something he tried to avoid for too long, knowing fully well about the debauchery and excessiveness of Geta and Caracalla.

"We're waiting for an answer, Acacius?", Caracalla purred with a wide grin on his pale face, revealing his gold tooth.

"It will be an honor to be your guest... together with my daughter."

_____________________________________________

You watched the face of your father sunken away in his thoughts, as you made made your way to the palace in a palanquin carried by a couple of slaves and protected by soldiers. The city was painted in darkness which made the palace seem like a temple with all the lights that welcomed you. It was an exciting moment for an upper-class lady to be a guest at the palace, especially for you, a woman that usually stayed away from the most parties. Not because you wanted to, but because it was an order from your father. You obeyed, yet it bothered you, even more when you'd reached the age of a young woman - the age in which it was expected from you to find a proper husband.

"Why are you so worried, father?", you finally managed to get off your lips, pulling Acacius out of the battle he fought in his head. He couldn't just tell you that he despised all of this and especially the Emperors himself as he couldn't be sure if someone outside this palanquin could hear him. So he simply took your hand and placed a soft and caring kiss on the ring that had been a present for your last name day.

"I guess I'm rather tired than worried. The parties in the palace are always quite excessive, music, dances, feasts... i just came back from the desert and now i have to enjoy all those things", he sighed and looked at you. "And i don't want to stay too long, especially not till the orgy starts. The servants will come and bring us home before that." And even you knew he would rather go and murder Dyonisos himself than allowing his daughter to stay and witness this.

All those words and yet you knew it wasn't everything.

"I'm glad that you take me with you this time. I've only known the imperial palace from afar," you confessed, while you straightened the long, blue dress you wore. It was decorated with all sorts of silver embroidery and jewelry, encapturing the stars and moon. Your long hair was styled by your servant Yanna into a high braid and finalized with a silver diadem. For the first time you really got the chance to make yourself so presentable that you almost felt like a princess. In the end, you were about to meet the Emperors which made it important to look like the woman you were - the daughter of a general. And you also presented his household tonight, because your mother felt sick tonight. She often suffered from migraine, which kept her a prisoner for days sometimes.

"You really look beautiful", your father said to you, it was honest, but there was a hint of worry in his eyes, which you still couldn't grasp. But there was no chance to take this conversation further as the palanquin stopped. Acacius got out first to help you out. He knew the way as it wasn't the first time for him to attent an official ceremony or party here. Through a long corridor you reached a large room with with an open access to the garden terrace facing the beautiful gardens. It was packed with people from the Roman upper-class, wealthy merchants, politicians and military officers, who were accompanied by their wives, sons and daughters. While they chatted and feasted on the large selection of delicious looking food, a group of musicians played their melodies to which professional dancers moved their bodies.

All those private parties at the homes of your friends seemed to vanish straight from your mind, nothing could be compared to what you were seeing now. It nearly took your breath away, while two royals were watching you from the other side of the room.

_____________________________________________

Geta and Caracalla were sitting on a higher ground, which was highly decorated with two golden chaise longues, cushions and velvet drapes. They were accompanied by a selected group of slaves, women and men, who were assigned to bring them anything they wanted, to do anything they wanted.

While Geta was in in a conversation with one of the senators, which clearly bored him according to his facial expressions, it was Caracalla, who noticed the new guest first, while he fed his little monkey Dondus a grape.

"Such a shame that he hid his daughter for so long. She is a gorgeous looking bird, don't you think? ", he whispered to his brother with a mischievous grin, patting his arm so that he would turn his attention to Acacius and you. Geta's eyes quickly went to you, admiring the way your dress hugged the shape of your curves.

"The gods must've sent us Venus herself to honor us with her presence," Geta answered, while an unreadable smile played on his lips. „No wonder our dear General is so protective of her. Is she already promised to someone?“

„Why do you ask me!?“ Caracalla snapped back, as if his brother didn’t know that he had a lot of spies around the city, who delivered him the newest gossip from the streets of Rome. With an annoyed eye roll, he leaned forward, adjusting the golden laurel wreath on his head. „No, she is a blank parchment. Probably untouched too.“

Geta still watched you with an intense interest as if you were a rare diamond, he needed to claim. But he was not the only one in this room, because Caracalla stared at his brother, noticing the way he looked at you. There it was again, the old melody. Whenever he wanted something, Geta wanted it too. They already shared the title of Emperors, their wealth, their whores… It was already something that cooked in him for a long time. But now he had an eye on you and wasn't happy about the fact that Geta might try to get you too.

Before he could even bring this thought to an end, his twin brother Geta already stood up from his chaise lounge and made his way through the crowd, the direction was clear. Caracalla's nose twitched in a mixture of nervousness and anger, and he got up quickly as well, not as gracefully as he wanted to, but he didn’t care. He had to tame the inner urge to backstab his brother before he could even reach you.

_____________________________________________

You still stood at the side of your father sipping on your first goblet of fine wine, while your eyes went over all the different guests and the excessive decor. Your father was sunken in a conversation with another general, Marcus Galbanus, an old friend and brother-in-arms of Acacius. But their conversation quickly stopped as soon as the Emperors approached them. Both your father and Marcus Galbanus lowered their heads and greeted them according to the etiquette, while you curtsied deep. This was the very first time you got the chance to meet the Emperor's of Rome Caracalla and Geta. And given the importance of those two figures, you even felt a little nervous.

"We almost feared you wouldn't show up to your own party, Acacius. But we're happy you made your way here... we already heard that your dear wife lays sick. Please, send her our best wishes. Nonetheless we would be delighted if you could introduce us to your company tonight", Geta demanded in a playful tone, knowing how much Acacius had tried to delay this. Caracalla stood at his side, his staring blue eyes drilled themselves into your appearence. Even though he was a man that had tasted a lot of men and women, one even more sensual than the other, your whole appearence, your face, your lips, your smile, everything - you reached a sentience in his mind that could only be gifted by the gods. The mere thought of having you infected his brain like a curse.

You could sense the tension that raised in your father as if everything in him resisted the situation. Yet he placed his hand softly on your shoulder and did as they wished. "This is my daughter, y/n..."

"I'm honoured to meet the Emperors of Rome", you said in a soft voice, earning you an appreciating smile by Geta and an unreadable grin of Caracalla.

"Oh the pleasure is on our side, my dearest. How do you like this Ceremony in honor of your father's victories?", Geta asked. But before you could even answer, his brother added, while he took another sip of his wine "Your father is a Roman hero through and through, isn't it right Acacius?" His tone had something else in it, almost as if it was some kind of mistrust. But you needed to ignore the irritation you felt and simply nodded.

"It is breathtaking. I've never witnessed something like this and it makes me incredible proud to see the gratitute he earned himself through the love he has for Rome and its people," you answered, trying to remind the Emperor's of Acacius loyality, which was undoubtful.

"Then you'll enjoy the ceremony in the arena tomorrow as well, i'm sure. Please, we invite your father and you to be our guests."

"I don't think that such entertainment is suited for a young woman of her status," your father suddenly interfered in a calm yet set tone, only earning the laugh of Caracalla. "Let your daughter decide for herself, General."

The atmosphere shifted to an unspoken intensity. You could sense your father's worries and given all what you've heard from the colosseum, you didn't really think of it as something worth to witness. Seeing people die in such a terrible way only for the pleasures of the masses seemed like a farce. Acacius always called it the most needless form of brutality amongst humans, he despised this himself and therefore avoided going into the arena whenever he could. But you also read the eyes of Geta and his brother, who waited for your answer and would not accept a simple 'No'.

"It would be an honour," you answered, and Geta leaned forward a bit, which made your father's jaw clench in anger. Not because of your answer, he was aware that a choice was not existing, when facing an Emperor, but because the way the twins looked at you as if you were a price they could simply claim. But you were a smart girl and definitely not naive, so he fully relied on that.

"So this is a 'Yes'?", Geta asked again and you looked him straight in the eyes, not backing off. "Yes."

"Excellent!", Caracalla shouted and clapped into his hands. "We'll have a lot of fun tomorrow."

The corners of Geta's mouth twitched to a smile and he nodded in response to his twin. Yet he hid his displeasure of having him as a rival in this little game. It was clear that Caracalla had layed his eyes on you too, but he won't allow him to simply take and fuck you like you were a common whore. Maybe you could've potential for something more and strenghten his position as well as his popularity. Because both Emperors were still unmarried - and it was expected from them that this would change sooner or later.

#gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #emperor caracalla #emperor geta #general acacius #geta x reader #caracalla x reader #joseph quinn #pedro pascal #fred hechinger #gladiator ii imagine #kabuki writes

2K notes · View notes

megalony · 24 days ago

Text

Maimed My Wife

This is a new Emperor Geta imagine that turned out rather long. I'm very happy with this one and I hope you will all like it.

Please tell me what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22 @mrsyixingunicorn10 @op-81-lvr-reblogs @talicat713 @niamhmbt @strawberry-canyon @bieberhoodforever @911fangirlie @hollandxxmix

Main Masterlist

Summary: Geta is very protective of his wife. And when a General in the palace attacks her, he sees to it personally that said General will no longer be a threat.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A deep warmth spread through (Y/n) and her mouth curved into a tender grin when a familiar pair of lips attached themselves to the side of her neck. Silently, she inclined her head to the left, allowing more access while she tried to keep her focus on the book in her hands.

Her fingers skimmed across the corner of each page, an action she had done for long enough that the corners were starting to crinkle as if they had been dampened with water. Each page was still pristine and crisp, but there was a small, noticable mark of wear and tear in the corners and the remnants of ink smudged across the side of the pages when each one had been turned.

The words began to blurr on the page the longer (Y/n) felt Geta's administrations on her neck continue. Added with the movement of his hands which were fiddling with the fabric of her dress and the belt around her waist, he was making it very hard to concentrate.

Geta's arms were encircled around (Y/n)'s waist as if he were caging her in his embrace, not that she ever wanted to leave.

It wasn't often that they could scrape moments together like this without having some kind of audience or interruption. Being here, just the two of them with no guards or family or servants hovering nearby, it was heavenly. It was a sense of serenity.

(Y/n) re-read the same two lines for what felt like the tenth time until they finally seemed to sink in and she could focus on reaching the bottom of the page. But when Geta's teeth sank down against her lower neck near her shoulder, she was sure he was trying to leave a visible mark. A signal that she was his, she was taken. As if no one already knew who she belonged to.

The book started to tap against her knees that were drawn up so her feet could press down into the sofa and steady herself. The words weren't making sense anymore, she wasn't really paying attention.

(Y/n) hadn't been in the library long before Geta wandered in, knowing this was exactly where his wife would be. As soon as he sat down with her, (Y/n) knew her book would end up being forgotten and would have to be finished another day. Even as Geta murmured into her hair that he just wanted to sit with her as he had a moment to spare, and the promises he uttered into her skin that he wouldn't be a distraction. (Y/n) knew he would be.

Her chest leaned further back into Geta's chest until she was reclined against him and her head fell back against his shoulder. He was sat slightly slouched down into the sofa while (Y/n) was sat sideways so she could be tucked into Geta's arm. It didn't take long for him to twist and curve both arms around her and attach to her like he had been apart from her for days, not hours.

"You're making this difficult." (Y/n) murmured with a sly smile, already residing to the fact that she was giving up with reading for today.

"Hm, I can tell."

Her hand draped across the sofa, fumbling about to try and find the speckled feather she had been using as a bookmark for quite some time now. Once it was slotted safely in place between the pages, (Y/n) leaned forward to set her book down on the other end of the sofa.

The library was (Y/n)'s sense of peace. She had been thrilled when she moved into the palace after marrying Geta and he showed her the library. He had quickly realised that if he couldn't find his wife anywhere, this was where she would be hiding. Buried in the books the library provided, catching up on her Latin and Greek and delving into the mythical stories each book provided.

Geta understood her love of books, even if he didn't read half as many books as her. He had been tutored well. He and Caracalla had been taught to read and write since the moment they could stand on their own two feet. Emperors had to be well-schooled and be given rich educations. Geta wanted the same for his children, even if he wouldn't go about it as strictly as his parents had. And he had promised himself never to treat his children the way his father had treated him and his twin.

He began to feather his fingers up and down (Y/n)'s waist, grinning into her neck at the way she squirmed against him and moved her hands down to clasp over his wrists now that she wasn't holding her book.

When Geta lifted his head, (Y/n) turned and angled her head up so she could peck his cheek.

She took the chance to admire his pale features, amplified with a lacquer of paint to make his features more ghostly and frightening. On anyone else, (Y/n) was sure looking so pale and deathly would look a horrid sight, but on her husband it was enchanting and regal.

One hand reached up to brush a stray strand of bright orange hair away from his dark eyes that fell closed as he leaned into her touch and nudged his nose against her wrist.

Moments alone like these were few and hard to grasp, Geta liked to bask in them for as long as possible before they morphied into something else or became broken by interruptions.

He continued to glide his fingertips along her waist, drawing patterns into the pure white dress that crinkled and ruffled along her thighs and over her bent knees. He liked how her dress contrasted to the golden clothes he was wearing beneath the cold golden armour over the top. When being seen out in public, Geta was used to wearing his armour. It was for spectators as well as his own protection. They never knew what people were lurking around each corner.

While Geta had his eyes closed, (Y/n) took the opportunity to turn around so her back was no longer against his chest. She moved round so she was knelt up beside his thigh, now able to loop her arms around the back of his neck and lean her chest flush against his.

Her touch was surprising but very welcome and Geta's hands moved to cup her hips, digging his fingers into her flesh as he leaned further back and tilted his head so he was gazing up at his wife. His own Goddess.

The word "Beautiful," passed his lips as he gazed at her in splendor before he leaned forward to capture her in a kiss. The touch was soft and warm and loving and (Y/n) gasped into his mouth when she felt his teeth bite down on her lower lip.

(Y/n) began to stroke her thumb up and down the back of Geta's neck, brushing against the short hairs and tangling her finger in his longer locks at the back of his head. When she tightened her grip it earned a quiet growl to rumble from deep within Geta's chest. And she felt his hands tighten on her hips in retaliation and he scrunched her dress up between his fingers, just starting to pull up the material as if his intentions were to bunch her dress high around her hips.

She was sure that was what his intention was and she leaned further against his chest to try and deter him. Anyone could walk in. People didn't tend to knock on lounge or library doors the same as they would if the Emperor and Empress were in their personal chambers.

(Y/n) would hate to be caught by anyone if she and Geta were in a compromising position. She knew her husband wouldn't bat an eyelid, but she would.

When she tugged on his hair again and tilted his head back without breaking their kiss, (Y/n) felt his hands give a sharp pull on her hips. He was about to pull her onto his lap and (Y/n) would have obliged, if the wooden doors to the library didn't creak and groan as they opened.

Their lips quickly broke apart and (Y/n) glanced over her left shoulder while Geta let his head drop back against the sofa while he casually looked towards the doors.

A smile instantly formed on his lips and his fingers dug into (Y/n)'s hips, pulling her back down against his chest again when they both saw that it wasn't a guard or a servant requesting something from them.

It was Caracalla, with his niece in his arms.

Caracalla's hair looked rather disshevelled as if he had woken up from a hundred year nap, but he had a bright smile on his features and his head inclined to one side as he waltzed into the library.

He jostled his niece who was perched high on his chest with her little arms draped around the back of his neck and her head nuzzled up against his cheek.

There weren't many people in the palace that Geta would trust with his child. The nursemaid who had been employed with them since the princess's birth, the two guards who were to watch over the princess without fail, wherever she went. And his brother.

When the princess was with her parents or her uncle, no guards needed to constantly have her within their sights. They could walk a few paces back or wait outside the room rather than stand inside and observe.

"Oh, and what are you doing?"

Geta chose to ignore his brother's words and the smile that broadened on his features because they both knew what the couple had been doing.

As the large oak doors closed behind him, Caracalla walked further into the library, looking around the grand room he hardly ever came into anymore. He didn't find books fascinating, his attention span was short these days and with his changing moods, curtesy of his illness, the mood to sit peacefully and engage in a book never came about. He was either much too frivilous or much too riled to read.

But he knew his sister in law was quite often found in here and sometimes this was where he had to come in order to find his niece. Caracalla was immensely fond of her. He was childlike at heart and found he could entertain the little girl and enjoy spending time with her rather than most of the people who frequented the palace.

"She can walk, brother." Geta dropped one hand from (Y/n)'s hip so he could motion his hand towards his daughter.

His daughter had recently learned to walk and it made her much more of a trickster. Geta was forever finding her sliding the rings off his fingers and running off with them, clearly wanting him to play her game and chase her for the jewels.

And now that she could walk, it meant the princess would run into meetings and abscond around the palace with her maid right behind her, unable to stop her from trying to explore and find her parents. Geta never declined when his daughter found her way to the meetings and he would sit her on his lap and let her play with the jewellery hanging around his neck or the rings cladding his fingers while the Senates talked state business. Her presence was calming.

"Where's the fun in that?" Caracalla countered with pursed lips and a huff that ended with him kissing his niece's cheek.

He knew she could walk, she had ran right up to him this morning, clearly wanting him rather than her nursemaid and Caracalla obliged. He dismissed the maid immediately and took to wandering around the palace with the little princess by his side and then in his arms. He loved carrying her around. Why walk when she could be carried like the princess she was?

But he seemed to relent when she started to wriggle and he set her down to her feet so she could toddle across the dark purple and crimson rug with her arms outstretched towards her parents.

(Y/n) slowly turned back around and slumped back down on the sofa so she was sitting beside Geta rather than kneeling up against him. Her lips curved into a grin and her hands draped over Geta's shoulders when he leaned forward to reach out for her.

A squeal burst past Floriana's lips when Geta scooped her up from the floor and leaned back to sit her down on his lap.

"Hi flower," He murmured softly and when her little hands patted his cheeks, Geta obliged and leaned down to kiss her temple.

(Y/n) watched the both of them with fondness amplifying in her eyes and causing a bright smile to etch across her face. Her hands squeezed his shoulders and she leaned forward to perch her chin in the crook of his neck as a little incoherent murmur left their daughter's lips.

She loved to see Geta with their little girl. Although it was frowned upon to have the father at the birth, Geta had burst into the room when he couldn't wait around any longer and listen to his wife's tortured cries.

(Y/n) had been nervous when she had Floriana. She didn't know how Geta would react to a daughter, it was something that had rattled her and caused her many sleepless nights. Everyone had expected her to bear a son, to give an heir to the throne to secure Geta's place as Emperor. Having a girl simply meant everyone would be pressuring her to have a boy sooner or later as if she had done something wrong and she would have to keep retrying until she got it right.

Geta quashed those worries immediately. The tears in his eyes and the bright smile on his face when he held his daughter showed he wasn't disappointed in the slightest. He was enamoured with his little girl and he wouldn't change her for the world. She and (Y/n) were Geta's everything.

The three people in this room with him were his family. These were the people he would give his life for.

"Have you two had some fun?" (Y/n) reached her arm across to brush her finger against her daughter's cheek, watching the little girl giggle and burrow into Geta's chest.

Although her fingers started to tap against the golden armour covering his chest. She couldn't reach his undershirt or his robes. Floriana had a new obsession with hiding herself away in Geta's robes like she was doing some kind of magician's trick. With his armour in the way, she couldn't tuck herself into his clothes or make herself disappear.

"We've been for a stroll in the gardens with Dondus." Caracalla perched on the arm of the sofa nearest to (Y/n) and brought his feet up to rest on the sofa cushion. His sandals began to tap against the cushion and his hands patted his thighs as he continued to smile. He was in one of his good moods today.

When Floriana pushed up until she was stood on Geta's thigh, he tilted back to see what she was doing.

"What are you doing, little one?"

Her hands scrunched up in the collar of his shirt that poked through above his armour and her cheek flopped onto his shoulder near (Y/n) as she pushed into his chest. Geta kissed the top of her head with a smile as he realised that she was tired. She would need a nap now and if he had the time, he would lie right here and let her lay on his chest. He would cuddle her and stay with her as she slept if he could.

"Acacius is back from his venture, we should go and await his arrival." It wasn't like Caracalla to be prompt and ready to follow procedure, but they had sent the General on a mission to conquor lands in the name of Rome. And both Emperors were eager to hear of his triumph and know just how much he had procured for them while he had been away.

"We should." Geta hummed against the top of his daughter's head but the sigh he let out told (Y/n) he didn't really want to leave.

"I think we will stay here and have a nap while you await your victories." (Y/n) turned to gently ease their daughter into her own arms because she knew if she didn't, Geta was unlikely to let his daughter go.

She made a little whine at the movement but once her head was nestled into (Y/n)'s chest and she began drooling on her mother's sleeve, she seemed content. The little girl curled up in her mother's embrace who slouched back into the sofa so her daughter was lying down and could settle to sleep.

(Y/n) was more than eager to stay here in the library where it was quiet and serene. Her baby girl could take a nap and (Y/n) could continue reading while the Emperor's went about their business.

A lot of the ladies in court had told and advised (Y/n) to leave the nurturing of her daughter to the maids.

'That is what they are there for.'

That wasn't good enough. (Y/n) wanted to be with her daughter. She loved to read to her and cuddle her and take walks with her and be in her presence. (Y/n) wanted to be involved just the same as Geta rarely let his girl out of his sight when he wasn't in his meetings. He checked on her at almost every moment of the day, he wanted to be involved when she began to take her lessons and tutoring.

They would both be involved in their daughter's upbringing more than the servants and maids would be.

"Sleep," Caracalla muttered and grazed his fingers against his niece's thin strands of hair before he bounced up from the sofa to take his leave. He had done his job with entertaining her for the morning and now he could go and drown in spendor and victory.

"I won't be too long."

Geta pressed a finger beneath (Y/n)'s chin, tilting her head up towards him so he could steal a kiss from her warm lips. Her touch was enticing him to stay and he hummed against her lips, swiping his tongue against hers in a battle that had him yearning to stay here with them than to go and deal with the victories of Rome.

When (Y/n) finally pulled back for air, Geta groaned and bowed his forehead against hers. He didn't want to leave his girls.

"Rest, little flower." His words were hushed against Floriana's temple which he kissed, twice, and his finger brushed along her cheek before he finally parted from his girls. His eyes lingered on them as he left the library, feeling like he was walking away without his heart that had been left behind with them.

He wanted to be back with them already.

***

After both Emperors departed, it didn't take long for Floriana to drift into slumber, resting against her mother's chest. Her head was tucked against (Y/n)'s neck and she had curled up like a cub, dozing peacefully.

(Y/n) had her cheek resting on top of Floriana's head with one arm draped around her daughter and the other hand expertly balancing her book and preventing the pages from wavering and losing her place.

She wasn't sure how long they stayed there, tucked up in their own little world of peace together with no disrruptions or people clattering around and making a fuss. It was lovely to spend some time together with her little girl.

(Y/n) could feel her own eyes desperate to close but she powered through, wanting to use this time to read and sit with her daughter rather than fall to sleep and lose the moment.

They had been tucked up together for a long while before a quiet knock sounded at the door and (Y/n) looked over to see the nursemaid poking her head around the door. She wondered if the maid knew instinctively that the princess would be in here with her mother or if she had spent a while searching round the palace for the pair of them. Or maybe one of the Emperors had mentioned in passing where they both were.

It didn't matter either way. The maid walked into the room with a smile gracing her plump features as she looked down at the princess who was just beginning to stir in her mother's arms.

"Would you like me to take the princess for some lunch?"

"Please." (Y/n) nodded and placed the feather back in her book which she set down beside her.

She eased forward until Floriana was forced to sit up on her lap and the little girl rubbed her fist against her eyes to try and wake herself up. Her head lolled from left to right and a yawn escaped her lips as she smiled sweetly up at the maid who reached down to scoop her up.

They both knew if the princess tried walking now she would stumble or lay down with only just waking up and she would dawdle. It would be much easier to carry her back to her room to have something to eat.

(Y/n) pressed a kiss to her temple and brushed her short strands of golden hair away from her little eyes before she was in the maid's arms.

"Are you joining us, Empress?"

"Soon, I'll find the Emperor first." It wouldn't be fitting for (Y/n) not to find out how their meeting with General Acacius had gone- or was still going, depending on how long this meeting would drag out for.

(Y/n) knew the Emperors would entertain the General and want to hear about every triumph and each obstacle he overcame so they knew how to better strategize their next invasion. And she knew as Empress that she needed to take an interest too and find out how things had gone.

She watched with a smile as the maid nodded and left the library with the Princess bundled up in her arms, still half asleep.

(Y/n) wasn't that hungry yet, anyway. She would take a walk to liven herself up and then go and see how things were fairing with both Emperors. Hopefully this meeting would go well and there would be reason for triumph and celebrations. (Y/n) knew both Emperors were desperate to entertain more Gladiators in the colosseum. It wasn't a sport that (Y/n) particularly enjoyed witnessing, but seeing her husband so eager and cheering and giving the casting vote of a Gladiator's life was thrilling to watch.

With her book laid on the small table beside the sofa, (Y/n) stood up and smoothed down the wrinkles in her dress that pooled towards her ankles. The pure white cotton always glistened when she walked in the sunlight and Geta always commented that she reminded him of a star with how the light sparkled on her when she wore white. A blinding beauty was how he often described her.

She made her way to the door and headed out of the quiet library, into the corridor that had very limited windows and therefore not much light. The shadows cast darker in this corridor and made (Y/n) feel like she was wandering the palace in darkness rather than the middle of the day.

The sound of her sandals clicking against the stones echoed and bounced off the walls and she slowly descended towards the end of the hall to the stairs.

(Y/n) wasn't too sure whereabouts her husband would be having this meeting with Acacius, but she knew it would be downstairs. Either in one of the drawing rooms or the great hall which they used for meetings with the Senate. The only thing she was sure of was that he and Caracalla would speak to Acacius on their own. Without an audience so they could truly discuss their plans and news.

A gasp tumbled past her lips and she stepped back just before she reached the corridor leading to the stairs when a firm chest almost barrelled into her.

Her left hand pressed into the wall and her right hand pressed against her chest to steady her breathing.

Her round eyes looked up to see who she had almost collided with and she stepped back again to add a bit more space between them and make sure that she wouldn't tumble over.

"Oh, General Caius." (Y/n) nodded her head at the General who stood tall in front of her.

He was one of the men she didn't know too well. (Y/n) knew only a few of the Generals who paraded round the palace and led her husband's armies. Caius was one of the men she was more acquainted with but she never really had many dealings with him. It was usually a smile in passing when he would come to deliver news to the Emperors.

"Empress." He bowed his head to her and (Y/n) watched a smile light up his features.

His smile seemed somehow too large and crooked for his face and the way his beady eyes trained in on her made her chest tighten. Being married to an Emperor made (Y/n) the subject of scrutiny by many people, and it was never something she handled well.

She couldn't help the way she cast her eyes around the hall as if waiting for someone to wander out of one of the rooms and cease this awkward encounter or strike up a conversation.

"Have you seen the Emperor?"

"No my lady." When he stepped closer, (Y/n) tried to form a placid smile as she carefully stepped to the right. "No guards?"

The way Caius cast his eyes around the hall and ticked his head made (Y/n) look behind her rather stupidly. She knew she didn't have guards following her. Geta had agreed to her wishes not to be followed around the palace at every waking moment.

When she had been pregnant, he had been a little less willing and made sure the guards followed at a safe distance behind (Y/n), for his peace of mind. And of course if the princess wasn't with her parents or uncle, she was to be guarded at all times. But Geta had allowed (Y/n) the luxury of not having guards trailing her every movement if she did not want them to.

She only had guards if she left the palace or when they were entertaining company, for curtesy.

Caius knew this. He often did guard duties in the palace from time to time and he knew (Y/n) was different to the Emperors. Both Emperors liked to have guards nearby, they never knew who might be lurking around each corner or when someone might turn into an enemy and attack. Whereas this had never happened to (Y/n) so she had no reason to think it might happen now.

"Good day, General." Dipping her head down in curtesy, (Y/n) scratched her fingers against the palm of her hands as she stepped to the right a little more to try and walk around Caius.

She had no wish to entertain him in conversation today, she wanted to go and find her family and celebrate their victories.

Her eyes trained on the floor, following the cracks in the carefully carved stone but a jolt ran through her system and made her chest tighten horribly when a hand curled around her upper arm. Her feet stumbled over one another and her shoulder bashed into Caius's chest when he roughly pulled her back towards him.

"What's the rush?" His voice seemed to lower an octave and his grin had turned sickening as he stared down at her.

His fingers were starting to grip bruisingly into (Y/n)'s flesh and when she tried to yank her arm out of his hold, he simply reeled her back towards him again.

What was he doing?

"You forget your place. General." (Y/n) held her chin high and ground her jaw as she wrenched her arm out of his hold and fought the urge to reach out and slap him for his indignation.

He had no right to be grabbing her like that. (Y/n) wanted to go and he had no cause to stop her or try to entertain a conversation with her when she said no. All it took was one word to Geta for General Caius to be demoted; not that (Y/n) would ever want to use her status and power like that, but she would if she had to.

"And you clearly don't know yours, my lady." The way he sneered down at her made (Y/n)'s stomach churn but before she could try and bolt towards the stairwell, he grabbed her. Again.

A hand curled around the back of her neck with shuch a viper's grip that (Y/n) felt too afraid to breathe. She felt his other hand press down against the centre of her chest and her tense legs tripped and scuffed her heels against the floor when Caius pushed her back until she was pressed against the wall.

The cold stone bruised her shoulders and her spine ached when she jolted back against the wall, staring up at Caius in terror.

No one had ever been so bold as to do anything like this to her before. They knew who she was married to. They knew the madness that dwelled within her husband and the deep rage that jealousy provoked within him. If someone so much as looked at (Y/n) for a second too long, Geta's arm was around her waist and his petrifying gaze was burning into whoever was looking at her.

He had dismissed men from the palace for staring or hovering too close to his wife and for striking up much too informal conversations with her.

(Y/n) didn't want to think what he would do to a General under his command who laid a hand on his wife and who would try and put her in such a compromising position.

"Caius- that's enough!" (Y/n) clenched her hand around his wrist and tried to force his hand from her chest where he was pushing her so harshly into the wall that the stone was beginning to grate againt her exposed shoulders. But she couldn't seem to move when he all but thrust her back against the wall again and his head inclined closer to hers.

He took two steps closer until the smooth silver armour he wore clinked against her chest. It felt like (Y/n) was trapped between two walls that were closing in on her. At any moment she felt like she was going to be crushed.

When his other hand moved down and had the audacity to grip her hip, (Y/n) let go of his wrist. She reeled her arm back and slapped him across the face with as much force as she could muster.

The blunt force caused Caius's head to propell to the left and it weakened his hand against her chest enough for (Y/n) to push against him and stumble to one side.

Why was he doing this? Didn't he know the punishment for this would certainly be his death? If he went any further in his torturous advances, (Y/n) wouldn't be able to stop Geta from unleashing Hell onto him. If he stopped now, if he backed off and let (Y/n) hurry to Geta, then Caius would get away with being stripped of his General status and being exiled from Rome. But if he continued, (Y/n) wouldn't be able to stop her husband from taking his life.

"That was bold." Caius rose one hand to his mouth where he could taste blood from where he bit his tongue from the slap. But the way his grin splintered into a sideways smirk showed he wasn't going to stop at that.

(Y/n) screamed when his hand knotted in her hair and dragged her back against his chest, but when a thin hand blade was pressed over her neck, her voice cut short.

"Don't make me use this." He pressed the knife deeper against her throat until (Y/n) couldn't breathe without discomfort, as if she didn't know what he was referring to. "Although I do wonder… does your blood run blue when cut?"

A cry bubbled up in (Y/n)'s throat but she clamped her mouth shut and closed her eyes to try and steady herself. Her hands grasped Caius's arm to stop herself from wavering and to try and keep him from pressing the blade too far and cutting off her breathing.

Oh dear.

How was she going to get out of this? How was she going to explain this situation to Geta? Her husband wasn't going to react well. She needed to get out of this now before Caius did something horrible. (Y/n) didn't want to know if he would cut her or not. She didn't want to be hurt with a blade. She didn't want to know what his intentions were or how far he would go or if he would truly try and defile an Empress.

His motives were clear and disgusting.

The word 'no' uttered past her lips and her neck tensed and began to tremble against the blade as she tried to push him back but it wasn't working.

The blade held her in place and when she felt his free hand move to clutch at her lip it felt like his fingers were fangs piercing into her skin. She could feel her dress being scrunched up in his fist along with how tightly he was gripping her skin that would surely bruise beneath his poisonous touch.

With what effort she could muster, (Y/n) rose her knee up and rammed it into his crotch as swiftly as she could manage. But the movement caused Caius to crash forwards into her as he doubled over with a loud grunt.

His face pressed awfully close to hers until (Y/n) could see the emotions bubbling over in his eyes. Rage. Lust. Anger. All of it, mixing together in a sinister concotion that had her stomach churning in fright.

She could barely draw in a proper breath with Caius pressing into her and the blade against her throat. But she tried. She tried to inhale one deep breath that expanded her lungs to the max and allowed her to hold her breath so she could push forward.

She took the risk of pressing her throat further into the blade until she could feel a slight sting and a few droplets of blood dribbled across the blade. It caused Caius to pull his arm back an inch or two.

He didn't want to cut her. He didn't want to use the blade unless he had to. He was smart. He hoped the threat of inflicting pain would be enough to subdue (Y/n) and make her listen to him. Actually harming her wasn't something Caius wanted to do because he knew if he was caught and (Y/n) was harmed, that would be it.

Harming the Emperor's wife was a death sentence and although Caius was playing with fire, he didn't want to get burned.

"Enough!" The word spat past (Y/n)'s lips in a breathless scream and she thrashed her arms out until they bashed down into Caius's elbows, forcing his arms to tense and drop down.

The action caused the knife to slice through her skin. It wasn't deep enough to reach muscle, but it was enough to make (Y/n)'s knees shake in agony and a scream erupted from her lips. The feeling of her skin peeling apart like fruit made her body cringe and writhe. She felt the knife carve from the side of her neck down to her collar bone.

When Caius's arm slid from her frame, the knife roughly slashed against (Y/n)'s dress, cutting the strap across her right shoulder so the material hung loose and barely stayed over her chest.

With her right hand cradling her neck and feeling the blood trickling across her palm, (Y/n) thrust her other arm out until she smacked the General at any angle and area of his body that she could. She flung her left side into him, shoving him back as she tripped over her skirts and stumbled away from him.

Her feet became caught in her dress that was floundering around her like sails caught in the wind and her body slumped against the wall to her right to stop herself going down on her knees.

Tears tumbled down her face as another scream belted past her lips, trying in vain to alert anyone that she needed help. There had to be someone around here. Surely. Someone had to be walking these halls or cleaning the rooms on this floor or just loitering around. There had to be someone who could hear her.

"I will have you!"

Caius's shrill, gritty tone made (Y/n) whimper and she turned around just in time to raise her left arm in defence when she saw the glittering edge of the blade coming towards her. The blade cut through her forearm deeper than the wound to her neck and had her arm trembling and coiling back towards her chest.

Why was he doing this? Why (Y/n)? Was the thought of harming or defiling an Empress worth the price he was going to pay for this?

Surely he knew that if he didn't kill (Y/n), she would tell Geta and that her husband wasn't likely to ignore her. Geta would believe her, he wouldn't never think his wife was lying and therefore Caius would have no defence when Geta found him. He couldn't lie his way out of this situation.

When his hand clenched around her upper arm and gave a rough twist, (Y/n) stumbled towards him. She let herself go limp and allowed him to drag her to her knees before him while her right hand slithered round from her tense, bleeding neck to scrunch her fingers up into her hair.

Caius seemed too interested with the sight of the Empress on her knees before him to notice what she was doing. His eyes were roaming her skin, taking in the sight of her tense throat that was gasping for air and her heaving chest trying to regain enough oxygen so she didn't pass out. He seemed to enjoy the hatred pooling in her eyes that would not look up beyond his chin, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of staring into those beastly eyes.

He made the mistake of leaning towards her. He made the grave error of letting go of her arm in favour of grasping her chin which he man handled so he could tilt her head back and roughly force his lips against hers. He was so rough that his teeth clashed against hers and caused her lip to cut against her teeth and the touch was sickening.

But the distraction was enough. (Y/n)'s trembling fingers pulled one of the pins from her hair that had previously kept her hair pinned neatly at the back of her head. Tendrils of hair fell loose as (Y/n) clenched the thin metal between her thumb and index finger.

Her watering eyes narrowed and she focused on the General before her as she thrust her hand forward until the pin punctured into his eye.

The action made her stomach churn and she could feel bile rising at the back of her throat as she gagged. The squelching sound made (Y/n) cough through a cry and when Caius roared, (Y/n) took her chance.

She twisted his wrist until the blade punctured through his lower abdomen where the silver armour he wore could not reach to protect him.

Another roar of agony left the General's lips as he crashed to his knees. Blood lathered around his eye socket where his eyelid was pinned closed and blood continued to trickle down his face. His white robes beneath his armour quickly started to change like a magician's trick, turning a horrible shade of crimson.

The wound in his abdomen wasn't as deep as (Y/n) wanted it to be, but she didn't have the strength to push the blade any further when it needed so much effort and Caius's hand was fighting against her, repelling her motion. But the flesh wound was all she needed to escape him.

(Y/n) sank back on her heels and scraped her bloodied hands along the floor so she could turn over and scramble to her feet.

Her hands bunched around her dress, yanking it up so she had no fear or tripping over her skirts as she pelted down the hall.

Tears whipped across her face, horrid wheezing breaths tumbled past her lips causing her chest to heave. And blood coated her previously crystal white dress that was now ruined. She would never be able to wear this dress again. She would never wear white again or look at her white gowns in the same way.

She looked like a ruined work of art.

Blood coated her palms. It dried like flecks of paint along her neck and she could feel slithers trickling down her chest beneath her dress. The fact that Caius's blood was now painted across her dress made (Y/n) want to be sick.

Her sandals slid across the stairs and had her stumbling down three steps at once causing her to grip the handrail before she tumbled down the staircase.

Terrified sounds tumbled past her lips and tears blurred her vision as she gasped for breath, running on adrenaline and fear.

(Y/n) coiled both her arms into her chest and bowed her head, running slightly hunched over to try and rid herself of the pulsing pains coursing through her body in time with her rapid heartbeat. Her eyes aimed on the floor that blurred before her eyes and she ran off memory. It was a relief that she knew this palace like the back of her hand and could run its halls in the dead of night with her eyes closed.

A scream erupted past her lips when her shoulder collided with another and sent her veering to the right.

"My lady-"

(Y/n) recognised the voice of the maid she had clearly barged into, but she couldn't place her name. Her mind was too scrambled to make sense of anything except for the fact that she needed her husband. Now.

"No!" (Y/n) flung her arm out when the maid tried to rest a hand on her shoulder. She didn't care for anyone's touch or anyone trying to help her. It was too little too late. She needed help ten minutes ago when the General had started his attack. Not now, when she had already defended herself and took care of the matter on her own.

Her feet picked up the pace and she was back to pelting unsteadily down the corridor, aiming for the great hall. If her husband wasn't in there then (Y/n) would find the nearest servant and demand them to find him. But she had to keep moving. Standing around in empty corridors was clearly unsafe now. She had to move until she was somewhere safe. With someone safe.

"You have brought great victory to Rome, General. You must be rewarded." Geta's fingers tangled together behind his back while he looked at Acacius stood opposite him and his brother.

They had listened to him reel off the plans of attack, what had worked and what needed improvement. The land he had procured for them and how they had only lost a few good men in their army.

They would plan games in the General's honour, to celebrate what he had done for the good of Rome.

Geta glanced over at his brother who was stood to his right with a beaming smile and a chuckle of agreement. Caracalla was all for celebrations, especially if it meant watching the games in the colosseum. The more blood and guts and gore, the better, in their opinion.

Just as Geta went to say something else, the words faded out on his tongue and he twisted to look behind him over his shoulder when the large oak doors burst open.

Reprimands and arguments flooded his mind as he was ready to punish whoever it was for entering the hall without knocking. Without permission. The servants knew not to interrupt, they knew a meeting was taking place and none of them were needed and should not interrupt.

He found no such arguments getting past his lips when he realised who had burst into the room.

His wife.

Such a belting scream emmitted past (Y/n)'s lips that Geta cringed and his shoulders rose up while his brother flinched and grunted at the noise.

Geta found his jaw hanging open and every part of his body turned rigid at the sight he was faced with.

His wife dropped to her knees once she was two feet over the threshold into the hall. Her body went down with a thump that echoed off the walls and her arms encased around her waist while she leaned forward and bowed her head. Her hair fell all around her in tangled knots and rampid curls that had come loose from their earlier, beautiful style that Geta had witnessed not more than an hour ago.

But it was the sight of his wife's dress that left Geta speechless and on the brink of collapsing himself. Blood. It tainted her dress. It embellished her smooth skin and speckled across her face and mingled with her torrential tears.

"Guards! Fetch the guards- and a healer. Now!" Geta spat the words as he shoved his hand into Acacius's shoulder to get him to move fast.

The General seemed as panicked and confused as both Emperors, but he nodded. One hand moved to grip the hilt of his blade just in case he encountered some thieves or thugs or crazed lunatic running around the palace. Acacius glanced his eyes down at the Empress as he rushed past her, panic and pain filling his gaze as he hurried past her.

He didn't have time to stop and try to help, he had to fetch a healer and alert the guards that there was a clear problem within the palace.

Geta could feel his brother hurrying behind him as the pair of them aimed for (Y/n).

The marbled floor hurt when Geta sank down to his knees before his wife and his hands immediately found her elbows so he could carefully reel her up so she was no longer crumpled over her thighs. He had to know what had happened. He had to know where all the blood was coming from. He had to help her. Somehow.

He couldn't help the way he flinched when he reached out for (Y/n) and her blood and tears soaked into his palms. His teeth sank down into his lower lip while he cupped her face in his hands and began smoothing his thumbs beneath her eyes to try and coax her to look at him.

But as Geta tilted her head back and tried to look her up and down, he didn't like what he saw.

There was a large cut, not too deep but not exactly superficial, going down the bottom of her neck and ended in the centre of her collar bone. And when (Y/n) reached her trembling hands up to grasp Geta's wrists, he tilted back and leaned his head down to look at the wound on her left arm. Blood was coating her arm like a red scarf had been wrapped around her forearm and droplets were splotching onto the otherwise clear marble floor.

Not to mention the fact that the right sleeve of her dress had been ripped, causing the top of her dress to bunch and sit lower on her chest than it had been earlier.

Someone was going to pay for this.

Geta's manic eyes couldn't stop roaming up and down his wife's frame and his hands were at the point of trembling until he was nearly shaking her head in his grasp. He couldn't find any words, all he could do was take note of each mark, each droplet of blood and each scuff mark on her skin. Noting all the discrepencies that someone was going to pay for. Each mark would account for every stab wound Geta would personally inflict on whoever was the cause of this.

"Where is little flower?" Caracalla looked from (Y/n) to glance behind her and then he darted his eyes around the room. His voice filled with a sudden air of panic and his features became enraged with every passing second.

His niece had been with (Y/n) when both Emperors left them. Was she too injured? Was she alright? Did they need a healer for the Princess too? Did the Emperors have to gut someone for daring to harm a hair on both the Empress and the Princess's heads?

A sudden breathlessness took over Geta when the thought of his daughter came to mind. He looked from his brother to his wife, noticing how his brother was starting to huff and his features had gone bright red at the thought of something happening to Floriana.

Where was his daughter?

"W- wi- with the maid. Safe." The words barely spluttered past (Y/n)'s lips. She couldn't find the nerve to speak and her panicked breaths and rapid heartbeat made it hard to utter a proper sentence.

But she had to let them know that Floriana was safe. (Y/n) dreaded to think what the General would have done if Floriana had been in (Y/n)'s arms when he approached her. Maybe he would have resisted and carried on walking. Maybe he would have hurt the princess too in order to get to the Empress. Perhaps he would have tried to drag (Y/n) away from her daughter. The possibilities were endless and each possible outcome made (Y/n) shudder and whimper. Thank the Gods her daughter had been and still was with her maid.

"Who did this?"

The tone of Geta's voice made (Y/n) cry harder and she couldn't meet his gaze until his hands were cupping her face more firmly and he tilted her head up so she had no choice but to look at him.

He wanted names. He wanted to know exactly who he had to castrate and murder for this madness.

"C-Caius."

"The General?"

Both Geta and Caracalla shared a look of confusion with each other while (Y/n) pulled her face out of Geta's hands so she could push forward into his embrace. Her face buried in his shoulder and her hands clutched at one of his arms, reeling it into her chest as she tried to curl up as if wanting to make herself disappear.

A General had done this? A man of power and influence, someone who should know much better than to mess with an Emperor's wife. A man who was trusted with the ruling and discipline of the Emperor's armies. A man like that had done this to the Empress of Rome.

"What did he do?" Geta feared to ask the question because he wasn't sure what kind of answer he would receive. The tears pouring down his wife's face told him the General had vastly overstepped the mark and tried to harm her, but exactly what he had done was unknown to Geta. He couldn't get the full story simply by looking at her wounds.

"He h- had a blade, he… he pinned me to t-the wall, but I stabbed him." (Y/n) closed her eyes, shuddering at the mere memory of what she had done.

She had never stabbed anyone before. She had never so much as slapped anyone before today, she had no need. No one had ever been inappropriate with (Y/n) before and the only person who had insulted her had almost been blinded when Geta fought him for the indignation.

"Okay." Geta hushed quietly while a mixture of relief and violent torment circled through his system.

The General clearly hadn't gotten as far as he wanted, Thank the Gods, but knowing he had even tried in the first place made Geta's fury boil over. (Y/n) had had to resort to stabbing him. She had resorted to defending herself when she shouldn't of had to, not in her own palace where she was supposed to be safe from threats and vile people like that.

Once Acacius led the way back into the hall, he was followed by a dozen guards, all waiting for instructions but instinctively on the look out for anything and anyone who looked out of place. Their eyes cast around the room but all fell silent when they looked down at the Empress.

One of Geta's hands moved to carefully cradle the back of (Y/n)'s head and the other arm encased around her waist, making sure she was tucked up safe against his chest. His lips smothered her temple for a few moments before he looked up at Acacius.

There was a great fire burning within Geta's eyes to rival the worst atrocities in the colosseum and the way his upper lip curled into a snarl was more than unsettling to witness.

"The healer is in the drawing room." Acacius could barely find his voice. His words were low and his eyes cast on the floor as he spoke. He didn't dare look at the Empress. Something told him that Geta would strike any of them if they dared to look at his wife while she was in such a state.

"Come here, my love." Geta's voice was unusually calm and the words were whispered against the shell of (Y/n)'s ear.

Her whole body broke out in trembles when Geta carefully moved her arms to loop them around the back of his neck. He left her face tucked up into the crook of his neck while his arms swooped around her lower back and the other slid beneath her knees.

He eased her against his chest and pushed up from his knees that had gone numb with how he had been knelt on the cold floor. It was hard for Geta to stop from digging his fingers into her skin. All he wanted to do was squeeze and grip her as tightly as he could but he knew better than to do that and risk hurting her anymore than she already had been.

His lips attached to her temple but his steely eyes focused ahead of him as he stormed out of the hall and into the corridor lined with guards who were watching and waiting his every move.

"What are you all looking at?!"

It took Geta by surprise, but he didn't shudder or jerk when he heard his brother's sudden scream. He simply pursed his lips and took a deep breath while he continued in his strides towards the drawing room that overlooked the gardens.

He could feel Caracalla and Acacius following close behind while the guards hung back a few steps, clearly unsettled by Caracalla's outburst. If any of them were caught staring at the Empress, Caracalla might raise his own sword to their throats. He was liable to fleeting moods and he was rattled, anything and anyone could provoke him. His sister had been hurt, he wouldn't take this lightly.

(Y/n) kept her face smothered in Geta's neck, brushing her chin and lips over the golden armour cladding Geta's shoulder. She could feel the cold metal turning her arms numb and making her blood run cold, but it was soothing when her skin felt like it had been overheating until now.

She wanted to disappear. (Y/n) wanted to curl up and make herself as small as possible. She wanted everyone to leave, she wanted this nightmare to end and to wake up like she had this morning with no problems on the horizon.

Once Geta stormed into the drawing room, he stormed ahead to the sofa that was in front of the large canopy windows and he knelt down to carefully lower (Y/n) onto the sofa. He sat down beside her, allowing her to continue to curl into his armour.

He cupped the side of her bloodied face and smothered his lips against the top of her head, breathing into her hair and inhaling her scent to try and calm himself down. He didn't remove his other arm from her waist that kept her tucked up against him. If the healers wanted to help her, they would have to do so while she was wrapped up in her husband's embrace.

The sound of Geta's voice murmuring "It's okay, you're okay," caused (Y/n) to cry harder and she didn't dare lift her head from his chest. She didn't want to look at anyone and see the fear or the sorrow filling their eyes. She didn't want their gazes falling on her.

It was a relief to see that the two healers had already started to get things prepared. There was a small table moved beside the sofa, covered with balms, remedies, cloths soaked in cleansing oils, bandages and opium, for the pain the Empress was clearly suffering.

"I want General Caius found and brought to me."

"The General?" The implication in Geta's voice was clear, but Acacius couldn't quite wrap his head around it. Surely this madness couldn't be down to the General's doing. Surely Caius hadn't done or caused all of this.

Acacius was a General himself and he would never dare to lay a hand on the Empress without great reason. It was rare for anyone to strike up a conversation with the Empress. For someone to lay a hand on her, to harm her in such a way was unspeakable and unthought of. No one would imagine something like this happening, within the palace no less.

Acacius took a step back, his eyes casting down when he found himself under Geta's scrutinising gaze. The way Geta's lips curled was frightening and the vengeance he wanted was clearly written across his face.

"He has maimed my wife!"

His usually pale complexion was overrun with colour. The make up Geta wore couldn't hide the blood rushing to the surface of his skin and the black make up smudged beneath his eyes only made him look deathly and spiteful. "Look what he's done to her!"

Geta realised his voice may have been a fraction too loud when he felt (Y/n) whimper and flinch in his arms, but he couldn't help it.

Could General Acacius not see what had been done to his Empress? Could he not see that she had told Geta exactly who had done this and that Geta wanted his head?

He wanted Caius brought to him now, and he wanted to inflict the fires of Hell onto him for this madness.

"And I want guards with the Princess. She is to be within their sights at all times."

With the wave of his hand, the General and the guards all left the room in search of Caius. Three guards stayed positioned outside the doors, making sure no one came in without permission. They would all be stationed to protect the Empress from now on. She wouldn't be walking the halls alone again, not after this.

And four guards were ordered to go to the Princess's chambers and keep watch over her. They were to make sure she was alright and ensure no one visited her or went too close to her. The Empress had already been attacked, Geta wouldn't stand for his daughter being hurt or frightened in any sense.

A frustrated growl left Geta's lips. He couldn't foresee how this atrocity had happened. Guards should have heard the commotion. Servants should have been filtering around the palace at some point. Someone should have stopped this. Were these people not paid enough to look after their rulers? Were they incompetent? Would Geta have to replace each and every one of them to ensure the safety of his family?

Whatever Geta grunted and grumbled under his breath went unheard by (Y/n) and the healers around them.

She tried to nuzzle her face into Geta's neck but her watering eyes opened when she found his hand cradling her chin and he carefully tilted her head back on his shoulder so he could look down upon her.

Without saying a word, he took one of the cloths from the table and began working to rid the blood from his wife's features. It felt like polishing a diamond, cleansing away every bitter element of the world to find the beauty hidden beneath. He scrubbed the flecks of blood away, watching as hazy burnt orange water the same as his hair trickled down her features as the blood was cleaned away.

The healers didn't make a sound, allowing Geta to be the one to clean the wound on (Y/n)'s neck so they could apply tonics and rags soaked in lotion. The wound wasn't deep enough to require stitches, the tonics would help the skin mend back together on its own and as long as it was clean, there would be no infection to deal with.

When he was done, Geta tossed the rag onto the floor and went back to gluing his lips against his wife's temple. He resisted the urge to start swaying them from side to side, knowing that would make the healer's job much harder as he was tending to the cut on her forearm. That one would require stitches, the blood loss made that very clear.

His thumb stroked across (Y/n)'s jaw while his other hand tensed and twitched against her hip, trying to control the rage that was mounting up within him. But when he glanced to the left, adrenaline fueled his heart and made extra beats course through his blood when he noticed Acacius had crept back into the room.

With a lasting kiss to the side of (Y/n)'s temple, Geta carefully slid from sitting behind her and approached the General.

He was pleased when his brother took his place, sitting down beside (Y/n) with a tepid smile and his hand held out so (Y/n) could squeeze his hand. Caracalla took it upon himself to take the vile of opium and press it to his sister in law's lips, urging her to drink so the pain in her arm would be lessened and the discomfort from the gash in her neck would go away. And with any luck, it might help her sleep.

"We found him." Acacius murmured quietly and the grave look on his face told Geta all he needed to know. By the looks of him when they found him, there was no doubt that he had been the one who attacked the Empress.

The weak sound of (Y/n) trying to call out his name had Geta shivering, but he didn't look back. He couldn't. If he looked at her, he wouldn't be able to leave her and right now, he had to. As much as he wanted to stay by his wife's side, he had to let the healers tend to her wounds so Geta himself could tend to the obscenity that had caused this mess. The threat needed to be vanquished.

Geta let the General lead him through the twists and turns of the palace until they were down in the dungeon.

It had been a while since Geta had been down here, it wasn't a place he frequented often. He sent people here, he sent a lot of people down here, but he didn't administrate the torture they received or visit them as they spent many days, weeks, sometimes even months down here.

If he ever unleashed his violence on people, it was usually up in the main quarters of the palace. In front of servants or an audience.

But this was different. This was a General that Geta had to deal with. And although the people of Rome would be understanding that someone hurting the Empress needed to be punished, they wouldn't take kindly to witnessing a General being slain.

This was a necessity. No one got away with harming the Emperor's wife. General Caius had taken liberties and Geta needed to show him that he wouldn't allow that and that the price was his life. He had to pay for his crimes.

His sandals clicked against the grime covered stones lining the floor, differing from the marble floor that was in many of the upstairs chambers of the palace. The torches did nothing to cast a good light around the dungeon, the lighting was dim but it glimmered off of Geta's golden armour.

He removed the sword from his belt and tossed it to one side. Caius didn't deserve a swift end. Geta wouldn't grant him that.

Once Acacius led him to one of the cells on the right and a guard unlocked the iron door, Geta lowered his head to step inside the small cell with an oval brick ceiling matching that of the wine cellar.

One brow arched and his head angled to the side, both to overlook the General and to stop his golden hair from touching the low ceiling. Geta's eyes narrowed in scrutiny and something of a smile formed across his lips as he looked over the doomed General.

Hands bound in shackles chained to the wall. On his knees where he belonged in the grime and dirt and puddles of water that leaked through the small slits in the ceiling that provided very little light. The General had his head lowered but once he lifted his chin, something seemed to wash over him and his skin turned pale.

Geta revelled in the way Caius shivered and how his chest started to rise and fall rapidly, sensing his impending doom at the sight of one of his Emperors stood before him.

Turning to the side, Geta overlooked the wooden table in the corner of the room right beside the door. Everything he needed to ensure a torturous death; everything from tongue clamps to iron pokers and a various assortment of blades.

With a deep breath and a wider smile, Geta waved his hand to dismiss Acacius. He didn't need a witness or any protection, and Caius was going to receive no mercy. Geta didn't want Acacius to try and vouch for this man or try to earn the sparing of his life. He was going to die, Geta had already decided upon it.

Once Acacius departed to wait outside the chamber, Geta crouched down in front of Caius. His arms perched on his thighs and a sickening grin lit up his face as he leaned in close to inspect the wounds on Caius. He reached out and roughly gripped Caius's chin, twisting his head from left to right to take a good look at his wife's handiwork. She shouldn't have needed to defend herself in the first place, but nonetheless, Geta was proud of her.

"My wife has wounded you well; I have come to finish the task."

Whatever had been stabbed into his eye had been removed, but the blood was still covering the eye socket and both eyelids had swollen shut over his eye. He stared across at the Emperor with only one good eye to witness his own demise. And there was a lovely puddle of blood gathering around his knees from a wound beneath his armour.

They hadn't bothered to call a healer for him. What use would it do to patch up a condemned man? He was already dead, he just hadn't known it until now.

He roughly let go of Caius's chin, allowing his head to drop down while he rose to his feet and turned to face the table of instruments. Geta's fingers danced across each one before he decided which one to use first.

When he crouched back down in front of the General, glee lit up his face when he saw the panic strike Caius right in the heart. His head began to shake and he tried to shuffle back, but Geta tutted. He should know better.

"Tsk-tsk. True Generals show no fear; and true Emperors shall show no mercy."

Caius had nowhere to move to, he was limited by the iron clasped around his wrists and the chain welded to the brick wall. He dropped from his knees to flop onto the floor with his heels scraping against the puddle of blood beneath him and his back slumped into the wall.

His good eye screwed shut and he swallowed down a groan when Geta gripped his face and squeezed his cheeks until he had no choice but to open his mouth. The iron clamp snapped down into Caius's tongue, earning a croaked groan as Geta pulled the clamp so his tongue was on display. He knew the General knew what this meant, he was sure the General had used this device before. The tongue was either twisted until the muscle snapped or it was held until a blade sliced through the muscle and the tongue was cut out.

Geta slowly rose to his feet, a sickening look crossing his face as he reached out for a suitable blade. He stood close and hovered over the General like a beacon of Death. The Emperor was the bridge between life and death, he would deliver the General personally to the Angel of death.

"When I am done with you, what's left can be fed to the beasts in the colosseum."

***

A grimace flooded Acacius's face and his nose scrunched up as he tried to hold his breath so he didn't gag or make a disgruntled sound. He was used to witnessing death, he saw it whenever he went into battle and when he oversaw the games at the colosseum.

But he had never witnessed the gruesome death of a fellow General before. And the sight of the Emperor in front of him was one that was rather unsettling.

Geta glided down the hall like he was walking on air and the calm look on his face contradicted the heinous act he had just carried out.

It was as if he didn't seem to notice his attire was not all that fitting of an Emperor, but it seemed more fair to say that he just didn't care. He didn't care that his golden armour gladding his chest was now smeared with blood. He didn't care about the clear, bloodied hand print on the base of his robes near his knee from where Caius had begged for mercy. In vain.

Geta didn't see a problem with his ghostly white features that were now painted with a mixture of blood and dirt.

He paid no mind to the blood and grit stuck beneath his short nails, or the tiny cuts to his fingers and the palms of his hands from where he had hacked blades into Caius's flesh.

The clothes he was wearing would have to be burned, there was no saving the mixture of white and gold cloth from the stains this afternoon's torment had littered them with. And Geta would need to bathe and soak in boiling water for at least an hour to rid every morsel of blood and grime from his body.

He didn't care.

The smile on his wicked features said as much as he waltzed down the hall until he reached his chambers.

He wanted to see his wife. He wanted to see how she was fairing, how her wounds had been treated and if she was feeling any better. And Geta wanted her to see and bask in the blood and guts that he was painted with like a massacred work of art. Geta wanted her to know that he had taken care of the threat posed to her. He wanted her to see that she was safe and know that whatever Caius had tried to do to her, he got his comeuppance ten times worse.

He had already made sure that the Princess was in her own room and therefore wouldn't have to see her father in this state. Geta knew the Princess wouldn't understand and would most likely think it was paint that was covering her father, but Geta still didn't want this memory imprinted on her small, innocent mind.

Geta opened the chamber doors like he was walking out into a bright summers day and taking his first gulp of fresh air.

He cast his eyes around the room, noticing his brother sat on the chair by the window with Dondus perched happily on his shoulder, chittering away. And when he looked towards the bed, he saw her. His wife, his reason for living, sat in the centre of the bed looking like she wanted to fall to sleep but couldn't quite manage the task yet.

When their eyes met, their silent gaze spoke a thousand unsaid words as Geta strode towards her. It was all their in his eyes, his smile, his attire and his now crimson skin.

She was safe. He had made sure of that.

#imagine #emperor geta imagine #emperor geta x reader #geta imagine #geta x reader #emperor caracalla #gladiator imagine #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #gladiator movie #emperor geta

695 notes · View notes

dondusthefirstconsul · 22 days ago

Text

Geta when they killed Acacius so now the people of Rome want them dead Caracalla is having one of his episodes and Dondus is screaming

#had to make it when i realised i had only imagined it already existing #emperor geta #emperor caracalla #gladiator II #gladiator 2 #fred hechinger #joseph quinn #dondus

708 notes · View notes

painted-flag · 23 days ago

Text

PROTECTION - geta and caracalla

₊˚⊹♡ with an attempt on your life, the emperors become increasingly paranoid and protective. ₊˚⊹ emperor geta x fem!reader x emperor caracalla ₊˚⊹ masterlist. ₊˚⊹ based on this request. (3.8k words)

The tremors in your hands had almost entirely subsided, only flinching slightly with each loud movement. To say the atmosphere in your room was tense would be an understatement. The entire palace was frozen with uncertainty and fear. You sat in a chair with one of your arms resting on the table next to you. The only other people in the room were the healer tending to the gash on your arm and a few guards, including the head of security for the palace.

There was not a sound other than the healer muttering to himself as he stitched up your wound. Your other hand reached for poppy milk and took another swig of it to distract from the pain of a needle closing your wound. It seemed as though no amount of pain relief would help with your predicament.

Only a short hour ago had you fended off an assailant. For whatever reason, as you were spending a portion of the afternoon in your chambers, a cloaked figure snuck in and tried to kill you. You had been raking your brain for any possible answer, but the only definitive one would be the simple fact: you were both the emperor’s lover. You could remember Geta and Caracalla speaking to you about safety regarding your relationship with them, but never for a moment did you ever think it would come close to this.

It was terrifying and everywhere you looked you would think a threat would be there. Geta and Caracalla were at the senate for some proceedings that were scheduled to take place for the whole afternoon. They had only been gone for a little over an hour when the assassin had snuck into your chambers.

Your eyes scanned back to the five guards. One on the end, a lower guard, was the only one who had blood on him. He had been the one to hear your shouts as you fended off the attacker and had come to your rescue. You did not know his name, but wanted to thank him for his efforts.

Another drive of the needle had you flinching in pain. However, you could hear the sound of thundering footsteps through the hall outside your door. The doors were pushed open furiously, both reeling back and hitting the wall; any harder and you were sure they would have broken. Geta and Caracalla stood before you, chests heaving equally and eyes with the same reflection of worry as they scanned the room. Seeing you off to the side, they surged forward. The guards and healer kept silent, aware of the coming storm.

Yet, there seemed to be nothing loud. No, the emperors came beside your chair with a simmering rage. Geta knelt and took your free hand in his while his eyes scanned your body for other injuries. Caracalla stood with a free hand holding your jaw, his thumb swiping soothing back and forth across your chin.

“Are you alright?” Geta’s soft voice broke the tension. He was unusually calm, simmering with something dark under the surface. Caracalla was the same, straight posture and calm.

It somehow unsettled you more than if they were lashing out.

“I’m okay, truly,” You gave them both a faint smile, “Only a little scratched up.”

“A little scratched up?” Caracalla spoke. His shoulders rose up and down with each restrained breath. His vision cast down to the healer who was stitching the large gash on your arm. “This is a little scratched up?”

“Brother.” Geta sent a warning glance his way, but it went ignored.

Caracalla turned to the guards before him. You could hear him take in a large inhale of air as if trying to cool the burning fire that crackled within. You exchanged a wary look with Geta, unsure if something would trigger another one of his episodes. It hurt to see him in such a state.

“You,” Caracalla addressed the head palace guard, “You have a few seconds to explain why our lady was hurt under your watch or I will gut you right here.”

The guard's face contorted into both confusion and terror, but he choked it back, “The assassin has been subdued and is locked up, Caesar.”

“Locked up? Good… good. He is not dead yet.” Caracalla turned back to you, or more precisely, your wounded arm laid out on the table, “But you have not explained to me why she is sitting there with a needle piercing her arm.”

“Yes,” Geta chimed in. He stood up but still held your hand, “Do tell us how she was harmed under your watch,”

The head guard looked from emperor to emperor. A bead of sweat was visible on his temple next to a prominent vein. The healer tied off the stitching and you hissed under your breath. The sudden movement pulled you away from the tension in the room. The healer began to wipe the last of the dried blood around the wound.

“Caesars, the guard does not account for the protection of palace maids and–”

“What did you say?” Geta interrupted. The brothers exchanged glances. You knew immediately that this situation was quickly becoming dire. The guard had called you a maid. While that was your previous job, you had been relieved of your duties many moons ago after the emperors became enamoured with you.

“Caesar, I–” The man gulped.

“Give me your sword.” Caracalla’s tone was one you knew well. It was the same level of cadence that would come over him before he lashed out. Geta sensed the same thing and moved to stand beside his brother.

“Caesar?” The man questioned.

“Give me your sword so I may gut you with it!” Caracalla lunged forward, attempting to beat the guard with nothing but his bare hands, but was caught at the waist by Geta who held him back.

“Say that about her again! I’ll fucking crucify you!” Geta struggled to hold his brother back. Caracalla was inconsolable, only intending to exact what he thought was just by gutting the man who uttered a single word against you. Geta secretly wished to unleash his brother on the guard but knew it would only cause more of a scene of distress in front of you which was not needed.

The healer made quick work of wrapping your arm in bandages. You thanked him quickly and dismissed him from the room. Caracalla was still fighting back against his brother’s hold when you decided that it was all enough.

“Stop! Do not hurt him.” You yelled as you stood from your chair. Almost instantly, Caracalla’s body went limp and the twins turned to you like you had said something utterly insane.

“This man’s negligence has led to your near death. You cannot possibly think that we will let him get away with it.” Geta spoke. You let out a long breath and walked up to them.

Lowering your voice, you spoke again, “I am aware, but I no longer wish to see any more violence for today.”

“But–” Caracalla moved to argue, but you silenced him with a look. You turned back to the five guards and hoped that they would listen to your instruction, given that you were technically not a ranking member of the palace.

“You three, escort him to the dungeons so he may wait out proper punishment for his negligence. He may not have thought of the safety of the maids, but an assassin got in here regardless and could have very well gone for our emperors.” Your words were met with action. They followed your instructions and seized the head guard. He tried to plead and beg his case, but you ignored it as he was dragged out of the room. There was one final guard who stood standing in front of you and the twins.

“What is your name?” You asked the man. He was older than the other guards, coming up on the precipice of life if the white hairs he sported were any indication.

“Theocles, my lady.” He answered.

“I thank you, Theocles. Without your quick acting to come to my aid I would likely be dead.” At the mention of your possible death, the twins that stood at both of your sides tensed.

“I am happy to be of service, my lady,” He smiled gently and for a brief moment it reminded you of the warm welcoming face of a grandfather.

“We thank you as well, Theocles, for saving our lady,” Geta spoke up. Caracalla was still nerved beside you, unable to speak as he recovered from his outburst. His hands gripped your right hand as if clinging to your presence. The weight of what nearly happened to you was only now completely sinking in.

“I am simply a servant of the empire, Caesar. I humbly apologize for our negligence. The intruder should have never made it past the gates.” He seemed genuinely upset at this incident, having taken pride in his work.

“Yes, it never should have happened,” Caracalla muttered angrily. His gaze stayed locked on your hand as he drew shapes onto your palm.

“You are dismissed for the day to recuperate from your efforts,” Geta said. Theocles nodded and bowed before walking out of the room and shutting the doors after him. It left the three of you alone. Caracalla looked over your face again before moving closer and burying his head in your chest. Geta stood behind you with his chin on your shoulder.

There was nothing but silence for a few minutes. The weight of tension in the room slowly lowered. You could hear nothing but their calm and steady breaths.

“You will be guarded every hour,” Geta mumbled as his lips brushed over your neck, “No less than ten praetorians.”

“Ten?” You were shocked by the proposition. Geta’s arms that were wrapped around your waist, just above Caracalla’s arms, tightened.

“A whole legion,” Caracalla mumbled into the skin of your chest.

“Surely they have more duties in the city,” You reasoned, “Ten is too much.”

Geta scoffed, “Ten is the minimum.” You felt that there may be an argument brewing. Ten guards was far too much and you could already feel how stifling that would be. You had gone your whole life without a single guard, not even when traversing the streets of Rome. Yet, your change of position has altered your life significantly. Still, you did not wish to be suffocated by protection.

“Five,” You proposed. While five still felt extreme to you, it would be enough to calm their worries about your safety.

“Ten.” Caracalla backed up his brother.

“Five.” You were not willing to go up any further.

“Nine,” Geta lifted his chin from your shoulder to rest his forehead against your temple. Caracalla’s hands moved under a slip in the fabric of your clothing, his hands trailing over the bare skin of your side. You could already tell that they were trying to distract you to get their way – a tactic they often employed.

You would not back down.

“Five.” You repeated. Geta let out a small huff.

“Seven.” Caracalla reasoned. His hands moved to brush just above your ass. You grabbed them and moved them up further, unwilling to compromise.

“Five.” The tone of finality in your voice made them halt their movements. It was a tense standoff, but one you knew you would win. If there was one thing that challenged their selfish tendencies, it would be their need for validation from you.

After a few moments, they both relented.

“Five it is then,” Geta answered.

You should have known that Geta and Caracalla would become more paranoid. It was inevitable. What started as five guards gradually morphed into twenty over two months. Five surrounded you at all times, escorting you wherever you wished to go. The other fifteen blended in the background. They were at a distance, acting as though they were not watching over you, but they were and you could tell.

Other measures were drawn up to protect you. On your trips to the market, there would be a collective of guards patrolling the streets more heavily than normal – all under the guise of collecting taxes from stall owners. You knew it was specific instructions from Geta and Caracalla, but chose to not say anything. You thought it would end eventually, but had been wrong.

It all came to a head one afternoon as you walked about the gardens. The heavy clanging of Theocles’ armour disturbed the gentle chatter of birds that flew from fruit tree to fruit tree. It was a grating sound, but it compounded more when you were able to tune into the sounds of other guards a few paces behind Theocles. The day after your attack, he had been named as your personal guard.

It was the only benefit to your situation that was starting to feel more like imprisonment. Theocles was like a grandfather, protective but funny. He took the job seriously but still relaxed when he needed to in order to cheer you up. However, on this day, you had become particularly irritated.

You halted, which was met by the guards behind you also stopping. You took large breaths to calm yourself before turning around.

“Theocles,” You spoke, “Do you know where the emperors are?”

“To my knowledge, they are in their study, my lady,” He answered. You nodded gratefully and changed directions from where you had originally been walking.

You moved with a purpose through the halls of the palace, your anger brewing. This place was once a paradise for you, where you could spend your days relaxing and relishing in the company of your lovers. Now, it had become nothing but a gilded cage that shrunk each day, moving to suffocate you.

The doors to their study came into view and you stopped to speak to your guards.

“You are to stay out here.” You instructed.

“My lady, we are instructed to never let you leave from our sight,” Theocles answered.

“Believe me, with my anger right now, nobody should wish to cross me. Despite that, the emperors would protect me from anything. Now, do you wish to be present in what will likely be a very uncomfortable conversation for you to witness?” You crossed your arms and tapped your right foot against the stone flooring as you waited for an answer.

After a momentary pause, Theocles answered, “We shall wait for you, my lady.”

You nodded before he opened the door for you to walk in, closing it when you got in. The emperor's study was an open room with floor-to-ceiling shelves full of carved bronze records, waxed tablets, and sheets of papyrus. There were two desks placed a few feet away from the other with Geta and Caracalla staring down at their work. Geta’s desk was clean and organized, while Caracalla’s represented the whirlwind of his personality.

When you walked in, they did not look up at you. Dondas, who was perched on Caracalla’s desk eating some pieces of fruit spotted you and chittered in delight. He jumped off of the desk and ran to you, crawling up your leg and torso to perch on your shoulder. For a brief moment, his presence cheered your angered thoughts.

Caracalla looked up when his friend left and his face lit up upon seeing you.

“My love,” He spoke, which gained Geta’s attention and he too looked up to see you. However, both their smiles faltered slightly upon seeing the grim look on your face. You scratched Dondas’ chin and placed him on a cushy chair so he would not have to be near you when you inevitably started to shout.

“I’ve had enough.” You said.

“Enough?” Geta asked.

“Enough of the constant watch. I know you wish to protect me but there is a limit to what a person can endure.” You walked up to stand in front of their desks.

“It is for your own good–” Caracalla began to reason but you scoffed to interrupt him.

“My own good? It has been two months, yet every day there is something new. Another guard, more patrols, you have even gotten a fourth poison tester for my food! As if one was not enough!” You threw your arms out as if that would help to enunciate your words. The frustration you had been feeling for weeks had boiled over into an explosive reactive mess.

“All to keep you safe,” Geta stood from his chair, moved to you and reached out to wrap you in his arms. You backed away from his hold. You would not allow any of them to try and sugar their words to get you to accept the situation.

“Do you not think I haven’t noticed the other fifteen guards that are secretly following me? One does not need to be a master of arithmetic to see that is well above the ten you tried to enforce in the first place!” You argued. Caracalla and Geta exchanged a look, finally understanding that you caught on to their attempt to secretly go against their word on the original agreement of five guards.

“Darling, we are sorry for going behind your back, but your safety is our priority. Do you think that assassin was only a one-time event?” Geta asked. Your mouth closed at that and you mulled over his words. It had been a brewing fear that you refused to admit.

If you were to admit it to yourself, to even say it aloud, it would be real. You were no fool. You understood the threat of this city, especially towards the emperors, but you thought that you would not matter. In the eyes of the court, you were just a lover to them and nothing more.

“I just thought that I would not matter. I do not come from a known family or the level of society you were raised in. Why bother with me?”

Caracalla let out a giggle as he rose from his chair to approach where you stood. He was not laughing at you, but rather the absurdity of your words.

“Why bother with you?” He mimicked your question, “You are our most precious jewel. That is why you must be protected at all costs.” His hands tugged at the loose sleeve of your dress.

“But to the extent that you have gone to…” Your voice trailed off.

“There can be no threats to our empress,” Geta spoke as he wrapped an arm around your waist. You could feel the cold of his rings through the thin silk fabric. That did not shock you nearly as much as how he addressed you.

Empress…

“Empress?” You scolded, “This is not a joking conversation. I am being serious.”

“We are as well,” Caracalla answered. His face lost all the traces of his previous amusement. You turned to Geta and saw nothing but sincerity. It felt… odd.

“What?” You questioned.

The two men exchanged a glance. In it, you could see they were communicating as if they had already had this conversation. Geta guided you towards his chair and had you sit down. He began to rifle through the drawers of his desk while Caracalla perched on one of the armrests. His fingers moved through your hair, brushing loose strands to go behind your ear.

“Now may not be the most appropriate time, but we realize that it cannot be held off any longer,” Caracalla spoke to you in a hushed, calm tone.

Geta finally found whatever he was looking for and pulled out a gold box from the desk. He turned to you and leaned against the desk. He carefully opened the box, exposing a large, intricately made gold ring adorned with large jewels. You stared at it for a moment, fully understanding what they were speaking about. Your body felt like it shut down, unable to comprehend it.

Your mouth opened and closed multiple times as your mind was unable to come up with any response. You could not help but feel as though it was not real.

“Is this your way of distracting from the reason I originally came here? If so, I must admit it is undeniably cruel.” You shifted in the chair as if you were going to move, but Caracalla gently pushed back on your shoulders to keep you in place.

“My love,” Geta got down on both knees in front of you, followed by his brother, “We are serious.”

“Be our empress?” Caracalla questioned. Your chest tightened, completely transfixed by looking back and forth between their eyes.

“The senate… the people… they already whisper things…” There had been much disapproval of your relationship with the emperors. When the court saw that it became more serious than a concubine relationship, whispers spread of negativity – especially due to your lack of privileged upbringing.

“Let them talk. They do not exist now. It matters what you want.” Geta reassured you. His grip on the box tightened as if he was losing control of the situation; losing hope for a positive answer.

“I shall have more freedom and go back to five guards.” You negotiated. Both of their eyes lit up; you had given them an answer.

“You are agreeing?” Caracalla asked.

“I also wish for more opportunities to traverse the merchant stalls.” You added.

“It is a yes?” Geta asked.

Your face broke into a large grin and you nodded excitedly, “Of course, it is a yes.” Both of them seemed to let out the breaths they were holding. Caracalla instantly moved up, cupping your face with both of his hands and capturing your lips in a heated kiss. His eagerness and excitement shot through his body, being expressed through giddy jolts of his movement.

You could feel Geta put the ring on your finger, his hands incredibly warm compared to the coolness of the metal. When Caracalla pulled away, you were met with equal fervour of a kiss from Geta. It was possessive but also gentle in a strange, uniquely his, way.

When he pulled back, you spoke, “Do not forget the conditions I have set. I am tired of feeling like a prisoner here.”

“No more then. You will not be a caged bird in your own home.” Geta reasoned. His brother agreed, nodding his head feverishly. Both of them were caught up in the moment, too happy to particularly care about anything but you.

The atmosphere in the room had changed from an intense standoff to a joyous mood. You had not ever expected this outcome given your initial plan, but it was more than welcome.

It was with great surprise to Theocles, your other guards, and servants, that you later walked out of that room with both of the emperors and a rather large ring adorning your finger.

I love these freaky gingers.

525 notes · View notes

fawninthesnow · 27 days ago

Text

𝐀𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞: 1 | Maternal! figure | Caracalla & Geta

Summary: You visit the young princes in the palace.

Warnings: Fluff, (slight) angst

Work count: 400~

a/n: Keep in mind they are around 14-16 here and orphaned already. After looking through some deleted scenes from the script, I found that all the boys want is to be adopted and loved. Here is something short for that with the holidays and all.

More on my Master list! + follow & like pls

Caracalla hovered over his brother's slumbering form in bed and gently shook his arm. “Is she coming?” The young man nudged him harder. “Are you awake?”

Geta groaned and turned over. “I am now.”

“Is she coming?”

“She said she would, but I am unsure.” He groaned in the dark of his bedroom. He reached for a candle, “You need to go back to bed. Come on.” Caracalla trailed behind his brother as they made their way down the hall. A noise emanating from the emperor’s foyer piqued their interest. The two boys cautiously approached the source of the sound.

You stood in front of the fire, removing the fur coat from your back. “Yes, that would be perfect.” You replied as a servant offered tea. “Are the boys asleep?” The two peeked into the room from the corridor.

“Yes, the princes are still in their beds.”

“She is here early.” Caracalla whispered with a giggle.

“I can hear you two.” Your voice was rich and velvety as you called the two out. The two brothers stepped out from the shadow of the pillars. “Come here.”

****

You held Geta to your bosom as Caracalla lay on your lap. Your fingertips buried in the eldest son’s hair; your opposite hand rubbed Caracalla’s back. “They treat us like we are our father.” Geta murmured.

“The people of Rome should be grateful for you two.” Caracalla turned up, staring at you. “Rome, she will soon see, my boys.”

Geta closed his eyes, breathing in the sweet aroma of lilies and vanilla that surrounded you. Your skin was smooth and sun-kissed, reminiscent of freshly harvested honey. Caracalla nestled against your thigh, soaking in the warmth emanating from you. “The people are now celebrating with their families.”

“Yes, the winter solstice.” Caracalla leaned close, speaking softly into your clothing. Meanwhile, his brother stepped outside onto the open veranda, gazing down at the bustling city square below. The square was alive with people—some joyful, some inebriated, and others lost in dance.

“You both used to celebrate with your parents, yes?” The two went silent. Your fingertips cupped Caracalla’s face. “Well, you can celebrate with me.” Geta accepted your soft gaze finally, looking into your eyes. “Ah, I nearly forgot. I brought gifts from home!” You stood and Caracalla followed you.

From your trunk, you take out a few velvet boxes. “I, I have been reading your…your letter at night.” Caracalla fished for a worn paper from his robe.

“Aren’t you cute…” You present the two of them with a variety of gifts. “I have missed you both so much.”

Part 2 <3 Happy holidays, everyone!!

More on my Master list!

follow & like pls

469 notes · View notes

bel0ved-heretic · 3 months ago

Text

Imagine the dialogue of this image Geta talking to Caracalla

Geta: How many times have I told you that you can't have everything you want, especially my future empress

Caracalla: But we can take turns...

Geta: She will be mine alone and no one else's

hormones on edge for next month

#gladiator 2 #joseph quinn #emperor caracalla #emperor geta #emperor geta x reader #geta x reader #geta imagine #geta x you #emperor geta x you

296 notes · View notes

haylee-e · 2 months ago

Text

pedro pascal, fred hechinger, and joseph quinn, i could take them all…and not in a fight

#credit goes to a funny tiktok comment i saw lol #fred hechinger #pedro pascal #joseph quinn #emperor geta #emperor caracalla #marcus acacius #gladiator 2 #joel miller #eddie munson #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader

243 notes · View notes

storiesaplenty · 2 months ago

Text

Miscellaneous Masterlist

Imagine if you will, the two Emperors are vying for your attention.

They rained gifts after gifts upon you, from fabrics, to jewels.

They have thrown parties in your honour.

But you just can't decide between the two, and you tell them.

Since the two have shared their whole lives, they end up arguing between themselves about who deserved your hand.

But you remind them that you can be with both, as you kiss each of them.

That night was the first night you slept with the both of them.

Each of them taking turns to fuck you.

Seeing who can make you cum the most.

From eating you out, to fingering you.

You finally passed out while Geta was fucking you.

You would spend each day with one of them between your legs.

Or you would be riding them on their throne as the other one watched, until one day you had a plan.

"I want both of you in me." You told them.

"How?" Questioned Emperor Caracalla.

"Let me show you."

You know how to prepare for this as you talked to one of the many whores that you know personally from growing up on the streets of Rome.

Emperor Caracalla was below you, and Emperor Geta was behind you, making you gasp at how full you are.

How much they are stretching out your poor, abuses pussy.

Fucking you at different paces.

But you didn't care.

Not when it feels like they are truly are Gods among men, as they pull orgasm after orgasm from your poor body.

Emperor Geta cums first, his hips rutting against your ass as he fills you.

Emperor Caracalla laughs at his brother finishing first, before he grips your hips tight and moaning your name as you cums.

Him fucking up into you, forcing your combined juices to leave your body as he does.

You collapse on top of Caracalla, him rubbing your back as they both leave your body.

"Are you alright?" Geta asked, as they both looked concerned, and they never are concerned about anyone.

"Mmmm, let's do it again, but after we nap." You told them, already falling asleep.

185 notes · View notes

tightjeansjavi · 1 month ago

Text

I am but a pawn

#emperor caracalla #fred hechinger #gladiator ii #emperor Caracalla moodboard #emperor caracalla imagine

151 notes · View notes

gay-dorito-dust · 28 days ago

Text

Based off of an interview where Fred said that Geta and Caracalla just have a need to be held/ be shown affection

Geta likes to think he’s above such tender touches but the moment you caress his cheeks with your fingers before cupping them between your palms, warm and comforting.

He melts and he clings onto this touch for the rest of his life. He’s chasing after it even when your pulling away, his hands tightly grip your wrists but not tight enough to hurt, as he brought your hands back to his cheeks, and lets out a sigh of relief as he closes his eyes to memorise the feel of your skin against his.

This man might as well be rubbing his cheeks against your hands, so much that you’d think he would soon purr like a cat after a while.

Seriously this man will try to fight against the feeling of laying his head on your chest just to listen to your heartbeat, gripping onto the fabric of your bed wear as though you would fade between his fingertips. Geta hates and despises being weak but you’re both alone in your chambers, there was no need to put on for an audience that is now long asleep in their beds.

An emperor is not meant to look weak, to look as though he had an Achilles heel, he was meant to come across as a man closer to the gods then the people he ruled over; a man who’s entire clothing was to make him look like he was on the ascent to godhood. And an emperor certainly shouldn’t be seen laying within the arms of his beloved, silent tears streaming down his face as he realises just how deprived of touch he really was that he’s crumbling the second he’s given it.

Due to his illness the reaction he has towards being held can change within the span of a second.

He could be melting in your hand, then the next he’s biting it with the intention of making you bleed. Caracalla could even be the one to initiate the touch first before suddenly your back is littered is bloodied scratches, before he’s back to cuddling up to you, metaphorically licking your wounds with he looked at you with eyes full of happiness yet uttermost chaos simultaneously.

His illness confuses your tender touches for something much more sinister, so it’s best not to hold and or touch him while he was going through one of those moments where his illness got the better of him, not unless it’s to stop him from causing harm to you or unto himself in the process.

Touch was something Caracalla wanted more then anything, so when he got it he was far more obsessive over it, wanting no one else to experience your touch but himself and if anyone did they would be dealt with bloody and swiftly.

Yet once he is calm and his face is buried deep again your chest, poetically moulding himself into you so that you’d be pretty much cradling his body against yours. His breathing was even and he was a peace for the first time that night as you ran your hand through his hair and down his back, watching over him so that his rest would remain undisturbed by any means necessary. It was the least he deservedx

#geta x reader #geta x you #Geta imagines #Geta imagine #emperor geta x reader #emperor geta x you #emperor geta x y/n #emperor geta imagines #emperor geta imagine #caracalla x reader #caracalla x you #Caracalla imagine #Caracalla imagines #emperor caracalla x reader #emperor caracalla x you #emperor Caracalla imagine #emperor Caracalla imagines

697 notes · View notes

multific · 17 days ago

Text

All Real

Emperor Caracalla x Reader

Summary: Driven by madness and manipulated by Macrinus, with a blade in his hand, Caracalla heads to Geta but he finds you instead.

"My Love? What are you doing?" you asked with a worried tone as you noticed the blade in his hand.

"I'm going to kill him. Where is he?"

"Why would you?" but just as you asked you noticed a shadow behind him. "Macrinus... I always knew it."

"She must be sleeping with your brother." you heard him whisper to Caracalla.

His eyes looked foggy and filled with tears. It worried you.

"Is it true?!" Caracalla yelled.

"If you believe his words, you might as well kill me. I have been nothing but loyal to you, My Love. I have always been there for you and I will continue even if you kill me right now but please I have to ask you to come back to me and realise what is happening here. You are being manipulated." you begged but neither of you moved.

"You lie! You love him!" his hands frailed as he cried and yelled.

"You own my heart and soul. I belong to you, Caracalla. Please, My Love, put the knife down."

Caracalla's eyes filled with fresh tears but so did yours.

"Please." you begged with a whisper.

Your sweet voice seemed to break the curse he was under as he turned and stabbed Macrinus in the neck. It all happened so fast.

You watched as he looked at his shaking hands.

"Wife, I'm so sorry. He... His words- He manipulated me. Oh, look what I have done." his hand reached out to you. Silently begging you to forgive him.

You took a step towards him and allowed him to hug you.

"I told you to always remember when you feel like you are losing it." you reached up and cupped his cheek, your thumb cleaning his tears. "I know Geta threw a drink at you and yelled at you, My Love. But killing him will not fix it all. I'm here to help you."

"I'm sorry." he said it again.

This is when Geta bursts into the room.

"What happened here?" he asked as he looked at the two of you with worry filled eyes.

"Macrinus attacked me. Caracalla saved me." you explained.

"I will take care of this, go and rest." Geta said.

The two of you retired to your chambers.

"Why didn't you tell him?" your husband asked.

"He doesn't need to know."

"Do you hide things from me too? Things I don't need to know?"

"Of course not. You are my beloved Husband. I do not have anything to hide from you." you took a deep breath before looking at Caracalla. "I won't tell Geta what your true intentions were today because it will not achieve anything but hate. Tomorrow I will speak to the people in hopes of calming them. It will ease your mind as well as Geta's."

"What will you say?"

"I will tell them Lucilla sent Macrinus to kill me. The people will be on our side again."

"I didn't know my wife lied so much."

"To protect you? I would kill. I would lie to the Gods themselves because I love you."

"I'm sorry for doubting you."

"It wasn't you. It was Macrinus playing with your mind. I'm glad he's dead."

"You never liked him."

"But I love you." you said and just as the people outside quieted down, Caracalla embraced you in a feverish kiss.

The two of you spent a night of passion allowing your bodies to become one.

While it was true, you might lie, but you never lied to him. You never faked your love for him.

It was all real.

Gladiator II Collection

Taglist:

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen @brevlada24

@mel-vaz @akamitrani @ange-olras @nicholaschavezslut69

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

646 notes · View notes

kabuki-writes · 25 days ago

Note

Since the emperors canonically have mommy issues. What do you think if their dear empress gets pregnant??? 👀👀👀

First of all: Hell yes! THOSE EMPERORS HAVE SERIOUS MOMMY ISSUES! Like holy Jupiter!

I mean we don't really know what happened to their mother according to GII, but since we get a hint on their father being violent towards his children and the mother not being present in the movie, i personally have the headcanon that she either died in childbed or during the twin's early youth. A lot of Roman Emperors and Generals took their sons with them on war campaigns, to train them in the ways of military - a good example for this is Caligula, who accompanied his father Germanicus in Germania and got the name "Caligula" (latin for "tiny soldier boots") from the Legionaries. Given that Septimius Severus was a military man himself, i could imagine him taking Geta and Caracalla with him. And that meant quite a rough childhood for them, especially for Caracalla, whom i headcanon to be the "least favorite son" due to him being mentally ill. So the twins don't really know motherly love or someone, who deeply cares for them in a way that a mother would do - something they will seek in one way or another later in life.

Before i digress too quickly.. what do i think about them being confronted by the Empress' pregnancy? First of all, i will not spoiler anything for the fic, so this is my general headcanon only:

I think Geta would be very overwhelmed at first, but since i headcanon a breeding kink for that man, he will quickly be super happy about the news and do ANYTHING to pamper and protect his Empress. And i think that he would be a good father actually. I mean, he kinda had to protect his twin brother throughout their youth and he did it with brotherly love. He had witnessed firsthand the terrible nature of his own father and therefore i would not say that he traps into the same personality. Maybe a child would even ground him a little bit more?

With Caracalla... oof. He would be super excited of the news, always asking about the pregnancy as well as he would advise all the servants to care about the Empress 24/7. But let's face it, this man is very mentally unstable, and speaking realistically here, he is not going to be the best father material. Not because he would get agressive towards his child or something, but because he is kind of a child himself. He would kinda care for a baby the same way he would for Dondus, but that is a monkey! Also he would quickly lose his patience or be bored by the way that a baby is not able to do much stuff, which results in him giving it into the hands of handmaidens very quickly. Also he NEEDS attention all the time, having a baby around that needs the Empress' full attention, it could end up in him getting frustrated about this as well.

#kabuki answers #emperor geta #emperor caracalla #gladiator ii imagine #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #fred hechinger #joseph quinn #caracalla x reader #geta x reader

290 notes · View notes

megalony · 12 days ago

Text

Merciless Wrath

This is a new Emperor Geta imagine requested by anon, thank you all for the lovely feedback on my Gladiator fics so far. I hope you will all like it.

Main Masterlist

Part 2

Summary: Geta loves how timid his wife is when it comes to watching the Gladiators. But Hell rises when one of the fighters decides to shoot an arrow and hits the Empress.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If there was one thing Geta knew would get the people's spirits up and gain both Emperors some favour with their people, it was his wife.

The people's Empress.

Geta had never seen the people rejoice so much as when he married (Y/n). The people loved her; they admired her and her calm nature and philisophic words and how she could settle any argument and bring a sense of calm to Rome.

Which was one of the reasons he had asked her to come to the colosseum today. The people were rejoicing, Rome had expanded her victories and gained another country to govern and rule over. This was a week of victory games of all makes and sizes and extravagance and Geta knew the people would be even more hyped and excited if their Empress showed up.

It hadn't taken much for Geta to convince (Y/n) to come to the games. He knew fighting wasn't something (Y/n) enjoyed to watch. Seeing blood spill over the sand and limbs being torn and discarded. Guts being exposed and spilled onto the floor, screams of anguish and the stench of death. It was all overwhelming and disgruntling for (Y/n) to witness.

She didn't see the pleasurable side of watching men fight to the death and maim and torture one another. She didn't feel that pleasurable ecstasy that her husband and brother in law did when they watched the games.

But (Y/n) didn't want to oppose her husband. He had asked her so sweetly if she would attend the games and be there by his side. How could (Y/n) refuse? When Rome had just expanded her victories and both Emperors were celebrating and being praised, it was (Y/n)'s place to be here beside them. She couldn't stay back in the palace and miss out on the games when she should be showing her support and appreciation.

Which was why she was now stood in the viewing box in the colosseum, her hand entwined with Geta's and her cheek resting comfortably on his shoulder while she tucked herself close into his side. Her right hand curled around his exposed arm and she leant into his side as they overlooked the arena.

She couldn't help the smile that pulled at her lips when she glanced up at her husband. The smile he wore was somewhat wicked but devilishly so and it made his eyes narrow and crease as he looked onto their subjects. His lips were painted a pale shade of red and his features were the colour of milk with dark circles drawn around his eyes like a lunar eclipse.

His golden hair was neatly framed around his forehead and ears and the glittering crown he always wore was nestled neatly into his hair, making him every inch a God amongst humans.

(Y/n) liked the way Geta's rings flashed in the bright sunlight when he waved to the people, and the cuff on his left wrist which shone and sparkled like a twinkling star in the middle of the day.

Once the cheering of the crowds simmered down, they each took a step back towards the chairs set out for them. As always, (Y/n) took the centre chair so she was in between both Emperors.

It was so eerily strange to see the way Geta would sit straight with his chin pointed out and a stoic expression. Whereas when (Y/n) looked to her right at Caracalla, he sat like a child. One leg crossed over the other, slouched down in his seat with that sweet smile and his hands tapping away on the arm rests or clapping, depending on how exciteable he was.

Once she was sat down, (Y/n) leaned towards the left so she was nearer to Geta. She liked how, without taking his eyes off the colosseum, he slid his right hand towards her until his fingers curled around her own. He began to glide his thumb along the side of her hand and he squeezed every now and then while his other hand began to run along his chin and down the side of his neck.

"Okay?" He muttered and cast his eyes to the right to look over at (Y/n). Her smile dazzled him and he loved the feeling of her other hand moving so her fingers could trail up and down his arm that she was leaning against.

"Hm." She nodded and leant over to peck his cheek, an action that caused blood to rush to the surface beneath his painted skin.

(Y/n) wasn't going to be watching the games today. She would sit here and show support, but she would only be glancing down at the scene every now and then. She didn't mind seeing the start, the men gearing up to attack and the beginning of them toying and playing the part. But once the blood splattered and wounds were inflicted, (Y/n) would be looking away.

"Did I tell you that you look beautiful today?" Those words, whispered against the side of (Y/n)'s temple took her by surprise.

She could feel her heart igniting in her chest, especially when Geta kissed her temple and nudged his nose against her skin before he leaned back in his chair again.

She turned to face him, noticing that his gaze was trained dead ahead as the first gladiators were being announced, but he spared her a glance when he felt her staring. And the sight of her smiling bashfully made Geta's lips quirk up to one side.

"You might have mentioned it once or twice." (Y/n) was sure he had told her at least four times already, but each time he did he made her heart fluctuate and had adrenaline swarming through her system.

When the first game began, (Y/n) tried to watch. She clenched her hand around Geta's and sat forward in her seat to try and see properly. She may as well show an interest until the wounds started to become inflicted and she would have to look away.

It was soothing to feel Geta's hand periodically squeezing hers and how his fingers would dance and tap against her skin like he had far too much energy or as if he wanted to join in the games. That would be too dangerous, of course, but (Y/n) had seen Geta when he trained. He was a vision with a sword and even more so with that devilish smile and his opponent on their knees begging for their life.

It didn't take long for the blood to be shed.

A few minutes, if that, of prancing around the arena, taking little jibes and swipes at each other. That all came to an end when the shorter fighter made a move and sliced a cut against his opponent's arm.

(Y/n) was okay for the first minute or two, being in this viewing box game the perfect angle and view of all the colosseum, but it did have the advantage of being high up and far off. She didn't have to see the wounds up close or see the damage clearly.

But being up here did mean that when one man struck his sword right through the other's abdomen, (Y/n) saw the blade come out flush the other side of the man's back.

Her stomach churned and she did her best to steel her expression while she turned to look at Geta instead.

He was used to it by now. In fact, Geta loved that whenever they witnessed the games, he would always find his wife staring at him. It was enticing and invigorating to watch the games knowing that his wife had decided to study his features instead.

He would often turn and see her smiling at him or find a lost, dazed look in her eyes. Sometimes he felt (Y/n) lean her chin on his shoulder and she would begin to trace the scars, marks and freckles on his skin. She would draw patterns across his skin and leave little kisses here and there and simply get lost looking at him until the games came to an end.

(Y/n) shuddered a little when Caracalla's excited chanting of "Kill him!" broke through the air, but she managed a smile and kept her eyes on Geta. Who leaned forward to watch the gladiator's demise.

(Y/n) kept drifting her eyes around the arena and then looking back to her husband as the next game began.

These two opponents were more rugged and ruthless than the last. They began by roaring and baring their sharpened, blackened teeth and they wasted no time in using the instruments they had been given to beat one another.

She found it interesting how easily these men were willing to fight, knowing they had a high chance of death. Their morals were very disgruntled, in (Y/n)'s opinion.

She turned her head at the wrong moment.

Her eyes cast down to the arena at the precise moment one man sliced his sword through the other's arm. His hand and wrist fell to the floor in one swift movement and a large splurt of blood began to paint the sand.

A gasp broke past (Y/n)'s lips and she quickly spun to the left as a tremor rattled through her. Both hands surged up to deadlock in Geta's robes and she buried her face into his chest, not caring how childish it made her look or who saw her.

A crooked grin spread across Geta's lips and he took the time to look down at his cherished wife before he looked back at the arena. He slouched back in his chair just a little and moved his right hand until his hand was cupping the back of (Y/n)'s neck and he could weave his fingers into her tendrils of hair. His touch was light and soft and he tilted his head down to peck the top of her head while his other hand began to glide up and down her arm.

It pleased him how she stuck to him and burrowed into him when she didn't want to witness the massacre. It made him feel loved and protective over her, how she sought comfort in him like this.

His fingers continued to stroke through her hair and his thumb brushed the back of her neck. His other hand remained on her arm, drawing patterns and creating a distraction for her to focus on while his sights remained on the game.

Although Geta's eyes did glance down towards his wife when he felt her move. She finally pulled her face up from where she was burrowed into his chest so she could stare up at him with her chin pressing lightly against his sternum. His hand remained still at the back of her neck and he inclined his head to the side, silently urging her to speak.

"I- I'm sorry, I can't watch-"

"Don't apologise for not having a violent heart. It's endearing." Each word was murmured against her temple and it caused (Y/n)'s stomach to jump with delight.

He found her lack of violence endearing. He loved how she shied away into him and couldn't bear to watch the torment and slaughter. He loved how compassionate his wife was and how she was being herself so freely before him and their people.

Once the fight finally ended and what was left of both men were dragged from the arena, (Y/n) pushed up from Geta's chest, but she stayed close to his side. She sat with one leg crossed over the other and her body leaning to the left so she was able to move both hands and curl them around Geta's arm.

Her eyes flitted about the arena and the colosseum, taking in the sights of the people cheering, leering and sitting forward in their seats to witness the next game with vigor.

Her fingers began to tap and parade across Geta's arm in an attempt to keep her mind off the next fight happening down in the arena. Every now and then, (Y/n) snook a glance at the fighters. There were more of them this time. Six gladiators, all with different weapons.

They were spaced around the arena, clearly trying to perform a longer fight to gain more attention from the crowds and create a more sumptous fight.

Some had shields, a few had swords or small thin blades. And one had a bow and arrow. That seemed unfair. Such a unique instrument needed distance to be used, but if the other gladiators got too close, it wouldn't be easy to hit them with an arrow. The instrument would have to be used like a spear instead and impaled by hand to make a difference.

This game seemed to be fuelled by chaos. (Y/n) pulled away from Geta a little so she could look down on the gladiators. They were moving too fast to keep an eye on who was who and which one had which weapon.

Blood painted the sand but the wounds were inflicted too fast for anyone to see who had been hit and where.

There seemed to be confusion around the colosseum, but (Y/n) couldn't make head nor tail of anything that was happening. She could hear Caracalla's fingers drumming away on the wooden arm rests of his chair, clearly becoming impatient and possibly a little riled up. And she knew Geta was sat up straight once again with his head tilted forward so he could try and decipher the game and who the victor might be.

Raised voices started to brood within the arena, but (Y/n) couldn't work out why, and she wasn't so sure anyone else in the colosseum understood either. No one knew why people were shouting from within the tunnels and windows within the base of the arena. No one knew why people were trying to open the gates when only one gladiator had fallen so far.

But then it happened.

An arrow, shot from one gladiator in the arena which wasn't aimed at any of his opponents.

The glimmering silver arrowhead pierced the sky like a bolt of lightning but it was so fast no one really saw it move. They only heard the wind breaking apart as the arrow broke through the amosphere.

(Y/n) had no time to move or gasp or even see what was happening before it was too late. The arrow hit her. The sharpened metal arrowhead pierced through her skin and hit her with such force that her body shifted and her back slammed back into the chair.

Her head slammed back into the wooden chair with enough force to cause her vision to blackout. Her body trembled but somehow stayed rigid in place and her heels slammed down into the floor as if to steady herself.

She screamed. A horrible, deafening sound that cut Geta right to the core as if the arrow had impaled him instead.

Geta twisted to the right, both hands grappling with the arm rest as he leaned over his chair to look at his wife. It was hard to keep his eyes on (Y/n) when he could hear everything else going on around them and he was desperate to look around the colosseum. He wanted to see the gladiators, to work out which one had stepped so far out of line that they were already dead. He wanted to see if people were trying to move and get closer or if they were trying to evacuate the colosseum.

But when he forced his darkened eyes to look at his wife, all the air seemed to block Geta's throat and his chest convulsed as his nose crinkled in unbridled horror.

Someone had shot his wife. An arrow had been aimed at them, right at the viewing box where no one was supposed to be able to reach or harm them from up here. An arrow had been aimed with such precision that it had pierced (Y/n)'s skin rather than simply passing her by or hitting the chair or the glasses of wine beside them.

Had they been aiming for (Y/n), or simply trying to hit anyone in the viewing box? It didn't really matter. Whoever shot this arrow had sealed their own fate. Geta would take heads for this.

He could hear Caracalla screaming and it only enraged him further. He didn't need people screaming, he needed them to help.

(Y/n) emmitted another scream before Geta even dared to reach his hand closer to the wound. Her body began to tremble but all Geta could do was stare at the arrow impaled in her skin.

It had gone completely through and come out the other side and the end of the arrow was imbedded in the wooden chair. She was pinned; skewered like a piece of butchered meat. It was two inches below her shoulder, just above her collar bone.

The sight of the blood was what made Geta's stomach churn. Blood and guts never bothered him, it was a sight he somewhat craved to see. But never like this. A droplet of his wife's blood being spilled in such a manner made him feel sickened. It was abhorant.

When (Y/n) screamed again and her body broke out in trembles, Geta scrambled out of his seat and moved so he was hovering in front of her. Slightly hunkered down until their knees were touching and he was all that she could see. Becoming a protective shield in front of her, just in case any more arrows or weapons were shot their way.

"G-Geta… oow…" A broken whine left (Y/n)'s wet lips as she looked from her husband to the arrow imbedded in her skin.

It hurt. It hurt so much. All the blood pumping around her body seemed to be circulating to her shoulder and no where else. All she could feel was the trickling of blood slithering down her chest and the agony that was throbbing in her shoulder and throughout her chest.

She couldn't stop the shaking that was making her rattle back and forth against the chair.

Had this ever happened to anyone before? Had any other Empress or Emperor been subjected to such cruelty whilst watching the games like this? She was supposed to be safe up here, protected. The gladiators shouldn't be aiming up here, they knew better, they knew they would be tortured for even attempting this. Let alone managing to wound anyone of royal blood like this.

"Okay, okay stay still. Shh, love."

Geta reached a tense, cold hand up so he could cup the side of (Y/n)'s face that was stained with tears and becoming flushed and glistening with sweat with each passing second.

His other hand gripped her right arm with fever and he tried to look at the wound.

What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to help her? He had no knowledge of this. Geta was trained and brought up on how to rule and govern his people, not on how to treat fatal wounds such as this.

"Get a healer!" Geta's voice boomed and echoed off the stone walls and his face started to turn scarlet, rising through the painted white make up that became almost non-existent compared to the amount of blood rushing to the surface.

His lips began to blush and his teeth sank down into his lower lip until blood was sticking to his teeth and welling up over his lips.

He was glad when everyone in the viewing box began to dissipate. Caracalla was guided out with Acacius and his wife while the two Senates at the back of the box left almost immediately, trying to push their way out first as if they feared a stray arrow aiming for them.

Only two guards remained in the box and Geta found the urge to dismiss them. They had been rendered useless. They hadn't helped stop the gladiator from causing this or stopping the arrow from hitting the Empress. They couldn't do much help now.

Another wave of tears poured down (Y/n)'s face and she tried to lean her cheek into Geta's palm, but she couldn't focus on anything but the pain. Her vision was starting to blurr before her and she could scarcely make out the golden hues of Geta's hair and robes. He was starting to look like a mirage in before her.

Geta scanned his eyes around the box, looking in vain to find something useful but he wasn't even sure what he was searching for.

How could he help her? What could he do? What was here that he could use to his advantage to make this better until the healer arrived?

There was a cloth resting on the table beneath a bowl of dried fruits and a pitcher of wine. With one swift pull, Geta tore the cloth from beneath the bowls and pushed up higher so he was level with the wound that was making him sick to his stomach.

"Okay, sweetheart I need to stop the bleeding."

(Y/n) seemed to both understand and confuse what Geta was saying at the same time. For when he scrunched up the cloth and pressed it down around the arrow, her mind seemed to short-circuit. Her body writhed as much as she could with her upper half pinned to the chair and her body turning on fire with each passing second.

A dribble of blood trickled past her lips when Geta pressed down hard on the wound and something feeble and croaky whined at the back of her throat. Both her hands moved to grip Geta's wrist and she tried in vain to push him back, to get him to relent because the feeling was agony. The pressure was too much, it felt like he was forcing the arrow further into the wound.

She didn't care if she bled out, she just needed everything to stop.

Her nails scratched into his wrist and she tried to push forward until the searing pain caused a white noise to blister in her ears.

"Shh, shh I'm sorry. I'm sorry I have to." The last thing Geta wanted was to hurt her, but he couldn't just sit here and let her bleed out.

He could feel tears welling in his eyes as he moved his right hand to press down on (Y/n)'s good shoulder while his other hand tried to keep the cloth pressed around the arrow that was making him feel infuriated with each passing second.

The cloth was turning red. The same shade as the silk woven into his robes. What was once crystal white was now splotched red and soon the entire cloth would be one big mess or crimson. It was a sight that churned Geta's stomach.

The harder he pressed, the more blood he could feel coating his fingers and becoming stuck beneath his nails like tar. And the more blood that coated his hand, the worse Geta began to feel.

He was going to lose her.

He was going to lose the most important person in his life simply because he didn't know what to do and someone had decided to hurt her. She didn't deserve this. That arrow should have been impaled into Geta, not her. Not his Empress.

When the word "Hurts," spluttered past (Y/n)'s lips, a choked sound emmitted from Geta in response. He could feel his heartbeat throbbing beneath his skin as he moved his hand back up to cradle the side of her face now that she wasn't thrashing or moving in her chair.

Instead, (Y/n)'s right hand was shakily clasped around Geta's wrist and her other hand was now gripping his other elbow. Her feet were scraping into the stone floor to try and steady herself while her back merged up against the back of the chair. Her chin tilted down as blood and saliva froffed past her lips and tears drenched her face.

Each breath she took made a horrible gasping, wheezing sound and her chest rose and fell so shallow Geta barely noticed the movements.

"Where's the healer?!" His voice raged out as his head snapped to look behind the chair his wife was now pinned against so he could see the two useless guards.

Why wasn't a healer here already? Why wasn't his wife already being seen to? What were they even doing?

"Emperor we- we don't have those kind of healers here in the colosseum."

The only healers they had at the colosseum were the basic ones. It wasn't in their interests to try and save every gladiator that got mortally wounded here in the colosseum. They patched up those who were fit to fight another day and they sent those who weren't down to the cells to live out their last hours.

The kind of healer the Emperor needed was one that would usually be on standby at the palace for the Royals or those who had enough money to pay for that kind of healing. Healers like that didn't wait around the colosseum, no one here had the means to pay for them.

"Then get one!"

They needed to speed up. They needed to get that healer now or heads were going to roll down the steps of the palace if the Empress wasn't saved. Geta would burn down all of Rome if his wife wasn't healed in time. Either they saved her or many of Rome would lose their lives.

When (Y/n)'s hand tightened around Geta's wrist, he looked back up at her with furrowed brows. He was met with frightened, watering eyes that made his stomach clench and had his chest tightening and wavering.

A bubbling cry left (Y/n)'s lips as she tried to tilt her head forward more towards Geta. Her fingers were leaving bruises on his wrist, but he didn't relent from the pressure he was applying to her wound. He couldn't. He wouldn't let her bleed out here and now. Not like this.

Pushing forward, he moved his hand round to cup the back of her neck and he attached his lips to her temple as he tried to think. He hushed each breath against her flushed temple, trying in vain to calm her down just a little while a thought came to his mind.

He tightened his hand around the back of (Y/n)'s neck and gently inched her head forward until her temple was pressing into his shoulder. It allowed him to look over her back and see the back of the wound. Blood was already soaked into the back of her dress and leaving a trail down her waist.

He couldn't let her bleed out in this chair.

He finally released the pressure from her wound so he could hold his hand out at his side and click his fingers towards one of the guards.

"Knife, now."

When one of them handed him the thin knife that had been resting by the fruit bowl, Geta moved it down towards the arrow.

He heard (Y/n) mutter his name in confusion, each strangled breath fanning against his shoulder so he could feel her hot breath on his skin. Her lips were burrowed against his shoulder, dampening down her cries as she was too distressed and dazed to try and lift her head to find out what her husband was trying to do.

A howl left (Y/n)'s lips and her body began to tremble and writhe when she felt the arrow move. It was only a small jolt up and down but it was enough to set fire to her nerves that felt like they were shrivelling up into nothing.

But she was surprised when she flopped against Geta and felt no resistance. Her body wasn't being pinned back anymore. When she leant forward, her body followed her head and she fell into Geta's chest with a thud and her left arm weakly curved around the back of his neck. While her other arm stayed pinned between their chests, too agonised to lift the limb very far.

Geta cut the end of the arrow. He couldn't care less about the arrowhead that was still imbedded in the chair. He just had to free his wife so he could remove her from here and find a healer.

He had to move her now.

"Find me that healer." His words were dangerous and one guard automatically bolted to try and source out any kind of healer. One had been sent for, but there was no telling where said healer was or how long it would take for them to get here.

Geta's attention moved back down to (Y/n) as he cocooned his left arm around her waist and his right arm pinned over the back of her thighs. He slid her off the chair until she was leant into his chest and slumped over his lap, allowing him to pick her up bridal style.

He had done this a few times, but never like this. Never when his wife was on the brink of death.

Her face burrowed into his shoulder, but she could still see the arrow sticking out of the cloth that had been wrapped around the wound to try and stem the bleeding. She could see the shaved feathers on the end of the wood to help it soar through the air like a message from the Gods.

Had she done something to offend them? Was this some kind of punishment? Was (Y/n) truly going to die from this affliction?

If that were so, then (Y/n) wanted to stay in Geta's arms. She wanted to stay in his embrace if she was dying. She wanted to die with him as close as possible, guiding her into the next life.

That thought had tears trickling down her features and soaking into Geta's robes and the moment he felt her tears, his brows furrowed and he glanced down at her. She didn't need to be crying. She shouldn't be afraid, he was going to get her help. He was going to make sure that she was okay. He had to.

He did his best not to move (Y/n) too much as he stormed out into the corridor and followed the guards urging him their way. Hopefully they had a healer nearby or some destination in mind that would help.

It was hard to control himself, to not start screaming in torture and to stop from digging his hands into (Y/n)'s flesh and leaving marks and bruises in his wake. He didn't want to hurt her. That was the last thing on his mind, but he felt like if he didn't hold her tight enough, then she might slip away from him forever.

When he turned a sharp corner, he let his gaze fall down to his wife when he realised she wasn't crying or sniffling into his shoulder anymore.

"Hey, hey you keep those eyes on me. You hear me?" There was something authoritiative in his voice that sent shivers coursing through what was left of (Y/n)'s nerves. It made her do her best to blink and try to look up at him, but it was hard.

Her left arm that was loosely draped around the back of his neck twitched and her fingers tried to move and brush against the back of his neck.

Geta began to shake his head from left to right when he realised where the guards were taking him.

They were guiding him out of the colosseum. There was no healer nearby. They would be trying to usher him back to the palace. If that was their plan they'd better move at lightning speed because Geta was willing to kill everyone who failed to help save his wife, no matter how little their roles were in this trifling day.

"(Y/n)!" He seethed through gritted teeth the moment he stepped out the doors and was faced with a carriage waiting to take them back to the palace which was thankfully nearby. "Sweetheart, please, please stay awake."

Tears glistened in his eyes and he almost screamed when one of the guards tried to help him. He didn't want help carrying his wife, he wanted help finding a healer and arranging help.

He eased down into the carriage with (Y/n) laid across his lap, her cheek still resting on his shoulder and his arms encased around her body to hold her close. He didn't want to let her go. Not for a moment.

"Hold on for me, hm? I love you." His words were hushed against her temple as he began swaying them both from left to right.

And he tried to make sure she was stable with his left am propping her up against him so that his right hand could try and apply pressure to the wound once again. He hated the little mewl that it caused her to emmit but at least the pain was keeping her somewhat conscious and alert with him. His lips attached to her burning temple and he tried to close his eyes.

But all Geta saw when he closed his eyes was the vision of blood. He could see the blood painting her golden dress that she only wore to match him and show her support of her Emperors and of Rome. The beautiful golden thread and silk were tainted with so much blood that it looked positively black.

As insisted and expected, it didn't take long to get back to the palace which was only a short trip away. Any longer and (Y/n) might not have made the journey back.

The moment the coach pulled up and the door opened, Geta clambered down with his wife still tucked up in his arms.

The words "I love you," were whispered against the top of her head over and over as at least six guards surrounded him to provide assistance and guidance as they stormed into the palace.

It surprised Geta to find Caracalla and General Acacius already here in the palace, but then again, they had been ushered out first. And they looked so fragile and out of breath that they couldn't have been here very long. A few minutes at most.

"This way, Emperor."

Geta's steely eyes tore away from them both and he looked ahead to where the guards were guiding him.

Each step felt like a step closer to Hell. He felt like he was guiding his wife personally to her demise. All he wanted to do was save her but Geta wasn't so sure anymore that it was possible.

Tears streamed down his face, slithering and melting into the make up that was starting to fade and run down towards his neck. Allowing streaks of bright pink and red to light up his features like scratches where the blood was rising to the surface.

He followed the guards down another corridor, sure that he could hear his twin somewhere close behind them. Geta's sandals echoed and stomped against the marble floor that was littered with droplets of blood like breadcrumbs to find their way back to the carriage.

But just as he neared the room all the guards seemed to be surrounding, Geta's steps faltered and his eyes snapped down to look at his wife.

Her cheek was still pressed against his shoulder, but her eyes had rolled to the back of her head.

And he couldn't feel her breaths on his skin anymore.

His rabid eyes scanned across her face and chest a million times, but she wasn't breathing. He was sure of it.

"No, no don't do this to me!"

A rendition of "You can't do this!" And "You're not allowed to leave me!" Roared past Geta's lips as he stormed towards the room that felt like his last beacon of hope. His last glimpse at salvation before he lost himself into oblivion.

His body was shaking, seething with anger, betrayal, panic and absolute desperation as he barrelled into the drawing room and collapsed down on his knees on the floor. He laid (Y/n) over his lap, refusing to move his arms from around her. He couldn't let them take her in case he never got her back again.

"She isn't breathing- do something!"

Everyone in the room flinched at his tone and his barbaric expression which told them that if the Empress didn't live, then none of them were going to leave this room. Their only chance at salvation was to save (Y/n).

Guards posted either side of the door which slammed closed right after Caracalla and General Acacius hurried inside.

Two healers were stood at the far table, concoctions and remedies laid out before them that they were trying to perfect with trembling hands. And Caracalla moved so he was stood close enough to his twin that his presence was felt, but not close enough to reach out. He didn't know what to do. One arm bound around his waist and the other pinned his hand against his mouth so he could bite down on his thumb anxiously.

A third healer knelt down in front of Geta who he looked to for permission before he dared to reach out and touch the Empress.

He seemed to agree that she wasn't breathing- as if Geta was stupid enough to mistake something like that.

There was no time for Geta to question or ask what was on the rag that the healer was now pressing over (Y/n)'s mouth and nose. Or the tonic he dripped into her mouth and the salts he wafted beneath her nose. The utter concoction seemed to do the trick in shocking (Y/n)'s system as a strangled, desperate breath caused her chest to inflate and her head pressed back against Geta's shoulder suddenly.

With his hand cradling the side of her face, Geta held (Y/n) close and attached his lips desperately to the top of her head. He pressed kiss after kiss against her temple and hairline and did his best not to start rocking back and forth as that would disrupt the healer before him.

Tears streamed down his features as he tried his best to control his own breathing and settle his system. But (Y/n) was frightening him. He had never been this frightened of anyone dying before. He had been saddened when his mother passed, joyful when his father died and slightly inconvenienced when any servants passed who he was close to.

But Geta knew if he lost his twin or his wife, then his world would end too. He would burn down all of Rome and then kill himself if he lost them.

"On the sofa, if you will, sire."

Geta didn't need to be told twice. He slipped his arms back around (Y/n)'s frame properly and eased her up from his lap so she was properly in his arms once again. His lips glued against her temple and he moved to lay her down on the sofa in the corner of the room.

Once she was laid out, he moved to sit behind her and laid her head on his lap wit his hand brushing up and down her arm to try and keep her soothed and calm.

He hated each whimper and mewl that she let out when the healer touched the arrow and tried to assess the damage to know how to treat her.

"The opium; a lot of it." The healer waved his hand at one of his fellow colleagues behind him but he didn't like the look he was faced with when he glanced up at the Emperor.

"Is that wise?" Geta didn't want to contradict a healer, he truly didn't because this wasn't his forte. He wasn't sure how this could be treated or how they were going to save his wife. But he knew what opium would do. Geta knew it would render his wife unconscious in a deep sleep that would be hard to wake her from.

That wasn't the problem. The issue was that she had just stopped breathing. Giving her opium might induce that breathless state again, Geta didn't want her to be sedated and then needing to be woken up by strong substances again or by lethal forces if she stopped breathing.

"I have to remove the arrow, Emperor. The opium is necessary, I fear the pain would kill her." He hated to be so blunt, but if they didn't sedate her and she stayed conscious, the pain might be too much for (Y/n)'s heart to take.

She was already close to death as it was. Another burst of pain, another bout of bloodloss and she could die and they would have a hard time bringing her back round again.

Geta silently nodded his head and moved his hands down to rub up and down (Y/n)'s arms. He felt the way she writhed on his lap and he leaned over her so he could press his lips to her forehead.

He was sure she tried to murmur his name and he hummed against her temple, trying to keep her calm while the healer got a vile of opium ready.

"Take this, sweetheart, and you'll feel better. I'm not leaving you, I promise. I won't go anywhere."

Geta knew she hated being alone, much less being alone and in agony like this. But he wasn't going anywhere. He wasn't leaving her for one single moment until he knew that she was out of harms way and the Gods weren't going to try and claim her.

He would pray. If that's what the Gods demanded, Geta would pray right here and now. He would take pilgrimage down to the temples and pray to each and every God in Rome if they would spare his wife. Once she was better, he would pray and leave gifts and sacrifices at their temples if they would do him the honour of sparing his life and letting him life without a broken heart. He couldn't lose her.

She was Geta's heart and soul and if anything happened to her, then all of Rome would suffer under his merciless wrath.

His thumb glided across (Y/n)'s cheek while the healer held a vile of opium to her lips. Geta coaxed her to take the drug while his lips stayed against her temple and his thumb moved to brush along her lower lip that was smeared with blood as she coughed once the drug was in her system.

It didn't take long for her body to go lax and still against him and the sight was horrifying because there was on guarantee that she would wake up.

Geta didn't even know what her last words had been to him. Had it been his name? Had it been a cry of agony? Had it been her telling him how much torturous pain she was in?

The thought had him in tears once again and he brushed his arm beneath his eyes and across his face. Smearing make up across his face until streaks of white, red and black smudges were painted across his face.

Another healer came to hover by for added assistance and watched with a little too much eagerness for Geta's liking.

Geta rolled his lips together and braced himself when he watched the healer checking the arrow. He seemed to make sure the cut at the back of the arrow was clean and it was a clear cut through (Y/n)'s skin. He checked for any bone damage, none of which could be found.

He then braced one hand on (Y/n)'s right shoulder and the other gripped the end of the wooden arrow that had caused so much anguish in Rome today.

Geta couldn't help the way he grimaced and coughed in despair when the arrow was yanked free from his wife's skin with one swift tug. The healer examined the stick of wood which thankfully hadn't broken or splintered, making their work much easier. But when he went to discard it, Geta surged across and took it.

He set the arrow down behind him on the small table. Geta needed that. When the gladiator was caught who had caused this disgrace, Geta would be using that arrow on him. He would show him where it could be impaled to cause the maximum amount of pain. He would make the gladiator see his Empress's blood and see why his death would be so very painful and enduring.

"If you could, Emperor."

Those words brought Geta out of his thoughts and he frowned, unsure what he was being asked until he looked down at the healer's hands.

He nodded and helped to turn (Y/n) onto her left side so her cheek was pressing into his thigh. One hand stayed on her chest and the other held her lower back to keep her in place, allowing the healer a clear view of both sides of the wound that was now pouring blood down her dress.

A grunt of disproval left Geta's lips when the healer slid the strap of (Y/n)'s dress from her shoulder to expose the wound properly. He restrained himself from digging his fingers into her flesh again and from pushing the healer away from his wife. He didn't want anyone touching her, but he didn't seem to have a choice.

Geta was rather relieved she had been given the opium now. As much as it made him fear her eyes never opening again and her breaths ceasing to exist, they were right. It was better for her this way. Tearing the arrow from her skin would have sent her into shock.

And now, with the healer slowly stitching up the small circular wounds on her back and chest, it would have driven (Y/n) into maddening agony if she had been awake or somewhat lucid for this.

The skin was already starting to swell once the thread was binding her skin together which had gone tight like a canvas being pulled too tight over a wooden frame.

"This paste should prevent infection and quicken the healing." The thick herbal paste the healer lathered on both wounds looked sickly and gut wrenching, but Geta didn't care as long as it worked.

He watched with growing distaste as the paste was lathered onto (Y/n)'s bruised skin and a roll of bandage was carefully applied to her skin. Two thick bandages were wound over and under her armpit and across her collar bone to cover the expanse of the wound and it looked rather tight, but Geta supposed that was the point.

"When she wakes we will give her some tonic, and she shouldn't move her arm too much until the wound heals."

"You'll stay to observe her." It was more of an order than a request, but there was a sense of vulnerability in Geta's voice that caused the healer to smile softly. His Emperor looked fragile rather than frightening when he spoke just now.

"Of course, sir." None of the healers would be going anywhere until the Empress was out of danger. They would be here for the next few days, they suspected.

Geta wanted them nearby just in case anything were to go wrong or (Y/n) took a sudden turn. But he would be the one applying the paste to her wounds and changing her bandages when she needed them. He wasn't going to be leaving her sights, he would be the one caring for her. None of the maids or servants were going to get close to the Empress for the next few weeks.

The healer retreated to the corner table, busying himself with preparing some tonics and more paste for when the Empress would stir.

General Acacius took a step closer to the Emperor, his hands bound in front of him and a sense of panic on his face when he looked at Geta. The Emperor looked like he was starting to shake. He had one hand carding through his wife's hair, but his other hand was clenched into a fist which was pressed against his mouth as if to stop himself from screaming.

And when Geta's head snapped towards the general, a fiery vengeance could be seen burning within his darkened pupils.

"Find the one who did this! I want to string up the barbaric hound myself for what he's done to her!"

He wanted the gladiator responsible brought to the palace so Geta could deal with him personally. He would bleed him dry and quarter him and burn him and throw him to the dogs. Geta would do anything and everything he possibly could to inflict the worst pain onto the barbarian who thought he could get away with trying to murder the Empress.

He wasn't going to get away with this.

#imagine #emperor geta imagine #geta imagine #emperor geta x reader #geta x reader #emperor geta #emperor caracalla #gladiator imagine #gladiator ii #gladiator movie #gladiator 2 #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn

450 notes · View notes