The Senate has spoken. The tensions between Caracalla and Geta have reached a critical point. The only way to consolidate Rome's fragile peace is to secure an heir, a symbol of unity that will appease the disputes and strengthen Caracalla's legitimacy as emperor. Against his will, the young emperor, known more for his fierceness on the battlefield than for any inclination toward marriage, is forced to accept the decree.

You, of noble lineage but with a reputation for a commanding and indomitable will, are chosen for this strategic union. The ceremony, opulent and full of symbolism, fails to conceal the evident tension between the two of you. Caracalla, slim yet muscular, with his characteristic defiant gaze and aura of disdain, is not used to relinquishing control. On the other hand, you remain firm, aware that you now have the power to shape the fate of Rome... and the emperor himself.

On the first night, the palace hallways glimmer under the torchlight, but the atmosphere between you is heavy. Caracalla refuses to show vulnerability.

"Is this what you wanted?" he asks sharply, throwing the purple cloak from his shoulders to the ground with disdain. "To be Rome’s watchdog... and mine?"

You approach him slowly, unfazed by the venom in his words. You know that behind his haughty façade lies a young man bearing the weight of an empire and deep resentment toward the politics that have forced him to surrender his body and life.

"I’m not interested in being your watchdog," you reply calmly, taking his chin between your fingers and forcing him to meet your gaze. "But Rome demands an heir, and now you belong to me. So, we’ll do what must be done."

Caracalla jerks away, his chest rising and falling as he struggles to maintain his composure. You realize he is caught between hatred and attraction. Finally, he mutters:

"If you think I’ll obey you like the others, you’re wrong. I am the emperor."