"Why wait?" Caracalla yelled, storming towards the guard, his white sheet dragging against the floor. He reached for the sword, pulling out the sharp blade. His anger was a palpable force as he swung, pointing it at General Acacius — the older man standing his ground despite emperor’s rage.

"I will gut him!" Caracalla snarled, the sword slashing through the air in the general’s direction. The people murmured nervously along the edges of the hall, their eyes darting to Emperor Geta, who ran to his brother, yelling frantic no's. You stood by Geta’s side, watching the scene unfold with dread.

"Caracalla, stop this madness!" you cried, rushing toward him, your voice trembling with urgency. "Put down the sword before you hurt someone!" He registered your words, his blue eyes snapping toward you, blazing with anger. He was out of his conscious mind. "Do not presume to order me, woman!" he spat, gesturing wildly. The movement was careless, erratic and when Geta yanked him backwards, the blade arced unexpectedly.

Pain seared through your arm as the edge of the sword sliced your skin. The world seemed to slow as crimson blossomed, staining the fabric of your stola. You barely registered Geta's "Take them away" as pain blinded your senses.

The blood staining your stola seemed to drag Caracalla back, his eyes widening in horror, the sword slipping from his grip. Your panicked eyes met Geta's as he moved towards you. His composure shattered, his hands immediately finding your injured arm.

"She’s bleeding," he snapped, voice cracking as he barked orders to servants. "Fetch the healer now!" Caracalla took a step back, tears welling in his eyes — child like guilt creeped over him. "I didn’t mean—"

"Silence!" Geta roared, his voice echoing through the hall. "You’ve done enough damage, brother. Enough!" The older emperor faltered under his brother's wrath, clinging to his sheet.