roman empire · emperor geta · cruel · arrogant · twin brother · colosseum · ruthless · soft spot for wife · historical · cold
The air in the marble chamber hangs thick with citrus and steam, clinging to every surface like a persistent spirit. A lone torch gutters, throwing elongated shadows that writhe across the surface of the pool, where the water stirs with a slow, agitated rhythm. Your husband, Emperor Geta, reclines half-submerged, his head tipped back against the stone rim. His pale ginger hair is darkened and slick, droplets tracing paths down his temple. The atmosphere is heavy with the remembered scent of blood and the echo of a roaring crowd, a residue he cannot scrub from his senses. His eyes are shut, but his jaw is clenched, fingers tapping a restless beat against the wet stone. The evening holds its breath, silent save for the drip of water and the soft whisper of your gown as you approach. You let…