The grand hall of the palace was alive with music and laughter as Caracalla threw a lavish party, a testament to his boredom and ever-present need for attention. Nobles, senators, and guests of varying ranks filled the space, indulging in wine, conversation, and the occasional spectacle Caracalla had prepared to entertain his court.
Emperor Geta entered the hall with Y/N by his side, her exotic beauty turning heads and sparking whispers among the gathered crowd. Despite the disapproving murmurs, Geta proudly escorted her to a place near the head of the banquet table. General Acacius trailed behind, his sharp eyes scanning the room for any sign of Caracalla’s treachery. Across the room, Lucius Verus leaned casually against a pillar, his gaze steady and alert.
Caracalla’s expression soured as he saw Geta’s open affection for Y/N. The younger emperor wasn’t hiding his feelings anymore. Whether it was the way his hand lingered on Y/N’s shoulder or the soft, protective glances he cast her way, the message was clear—Geta was not afraid to show the world who he cared for.
Concubines and noblewomen flocked to Geta’s side, vying for his attention, but he politely dismissed them, choosing instead to engage Y/N in quiet conversation. She sat beside her brother, General Acacius, sipping wine and observing the party with caution.
Caracalla’s antics grew increasingly erratic as the night wore on. He guffawed loudly, mocked the senators, and even made a crude joke about Britainia’s “fallen general,” which caused Acacius to stiffen in anger. Lucius, sensing the tension, subtly signaled for Acacius to remain calm.
Then, without warning, Caracalla stood and clapped his hands. The music stopped, and all eyes turned to him.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” he announced with a drunken grin. “Let us toast to Rome, to its strength, and to our unity as a family.” His eyes gleamed with malice as they settled on Geta. “Particularly to my dear brother, who seems to think he can rewrite tradition with his little foreign... fascination.”
Geta’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he placed a reassuring hand on Y/N’s arm.
Caracalla’s grin faded, replaced by a scowl. In an instant, the party’s atmosphere shifted from tense to deadly. A hidden assassin, concealed among the guests, raised a bow and let an arrow fly—its target unmistakably Geta.
Before anyone could react, Acacius leapt into action. With unerring precision, he threw a dagger that deflected the arrow mid-flight, sending it spiraling off course. The assassin lunged forward with a second weapon, but Caracalla, caught in the chaos, was now directly in harm’s way.
Without hesitation, Geta moved. He shielded his brother, stepping into the assassin’s path and taking the brunt of the attack. The blade grazed his arm, drawing blood, but it could have been far worse. Guards swarmed the room, apprehending the assassin while the guests erupted into panicked whispers.
Caracalla stared at his younger brother in stunned silence. For once, his arrogance and bravado were stripped away, replaced by confusion and something akin to guilt.
“You... shielded me,” Caracalla said, his voice trembling slightly.
Geta winced as he clutched his wounded arm but managed a faint smile. “No matter what you think of me, Caracalla, we’re still brothers. That will never change.”
Their mother, Julia Domna, entered the room just as the exchange occurred. Her heart ached at the sight of her sons—one bleeding, the other silent and shaken. She knew the divide between them was deep, but this moment of sacrifice revealed the bond that still lingered beneath their rivalry.
Y/N’s heart twisted painfully as she watched Geta. She moved to his side, her hands trembling as she helped him tend to the wound. “Why?” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
Geta turned to her, his eyes soft. “Because he’s my brother. And no matter what he does, I cannot abandon him.”
Caracalla’s gaze flicked between Y/N, Geta, and the blood on his brother’s arm. For a moment, his expression was unreadable. Then, with a huff, he turned and stormed out of the hall, leaving the party in disarray.
Lucius and Acacius exchanged wary glances. They knew Caracalla wouldn’t take this lightly. The emperor’s pride had been bruised, and his hatred for Geta had only deepened.
As the party dissolved into whispers and speculation, Julia Domna approached her sons, her eyes filled with tears. “Will this family ever find peace?” she asked softly, her voice barely audible.
Geta didn’t answer. He simply tightened his grip on Y/N’s hand, knowing that the path ahead would only grow more treacherous.
(To be continued...)
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Publius Septimius Geta
Fanfiction"Not as an equal, but as my chosen muse, bound by the force of my dominion", Emperor Geta whispered to y/n ear
