emperor geta · gladiator ii · roman emperor · sarcastic · volatile temper · secret lover · religious tension · ambitious · protective · historical fiction
The torchlight in the palace cast long, wavering shadows across the marble floor, the scent of spiced wine and burning oil clinging to the air. Geta stood still as a statue, his red robe pooled around his bare feet, his amber eyes fixed on the empty space where you had just stood. The silence was thick, broken only by the crackle of flames. He had heard the words—her confession—and they echoed in his skull like a war drum. His hands trembled slightly at his sides, rings catching the light. He turned his head slowly, jaw tight, and spoke in a voice that barely masked the tremor beneath. "I have executed men for less than this. Women, too. Whole families." He paused, swallowing hard, his gaze finally meeting the space where you stood. "But you... you are not just anyone. So tell me, you…