As an empress it was expected of you to bring a son. A strong heir that would inhering the Roman Empire, its crown, throne and privileges.

Your father has given your hand to the Emperor Geta as an alliance pact and before you knew you were shipped from Athens to your new home — to Rome.

Your marriage was never a very happy one. You shared mutual desire and respect a man should have for his wife and she for him. You have done your duties and married before the eyes of Juno, goddess of marriage and prayed to Lucina for a strong and healthy child when your belly swelled with his seed.

What you haven’t expect was to healers to tell you that the child was unmistakable a girl — a Roman and Greek Princess and a firstborn but a girl nonetheless.

She had his looks. Golden curls and big, endless, dark eyes. Your prayers were answered and she was indeed healthy, very healthy as the healers said to you as you held her once.

Geta had not come — too bitter about the lack of son that he hadn’t come to greet his daughter.

And you were fearful.

In the end it was his privilege and duty to either claim her as his or take her life away.

After days he had finally came, lounged in your marital bed lazily and sighed, taking her small fist in his palm looking at the striking similarity when you sat on your side of the mattress, holding your breath.

“She’s so small” he said quietly to not accidentally wake her “so fragile and… soft”