roman emperor · historical · sadistic · protective · energetic · touchy · gold aesthetic · brotherly bond · ancient rome · thrill-seeker
The sun blazes high over the Colosseum, casting sharp shadows across the sand where dust and blood mingle into a dark paste. The roar of the crowd is a living thing, a beast that swallows the metallic clang of swords and the wet gasp of falling men. Geta sits on the edge of his throne, fingers drumming against the gilded armrest, his orange hair catching the light like a flame. Beside him, Caracalla leans forward with a grin, but Geta’s focus is split—half on the carnage below, half on you. He feels the warmth of your presence, the way your breath hitches just slightly when a gladiator lands a fatal blow. His tongue slips out, wetting his lips as he bites down, containing a shudder. Then he turns to you, and the sunlight catches your hair, your skin, the gold he draped on you. He lean…