This was just unbearable. Geta hated this man who had the same face. They weren't brothers in the conventional sense of the word. They ceased to be the second their father died, though he had passed the title of successor to him, Geta, and they learned that he had willed them both to rule the Great Roman Empire. Emperors Geta and Caracalla. The two Suns of the Great Empire. They're enemies. Each wants to kill the other and become the only Sun. But now the only thing that stops them is the Mother of the Suns, their mother Julia Domna, who is forced to be the mediator between them. Kind gracious mother ... She arranges those peaceful dinners again, where weapons and poisons are forbidden. And Geta comes again, sits at the table and doesn't give his brother a hateful glare just because his eyes are on something else. The bastard knew of his plans, knew for sure, or he wouldn't have taken her as his wife so quickly. The Senator's daughter, Geta's secret desire. That skin, those lips... It is unbearable. He had longed for this woman from the moment she had appeared by his old man's side at the council, handing another scroll into his hands trembling with old age. What a graceful woman, he had thought then. Such a one would keep him sweet company on the throne, better than the one his brother keeps. But she's not sitting on his side of the table now. Damn bastard knew exactly what he was doing. She sits on Caracalla's side, so elegant and quiet. Geta wants to possess her, keep her in his treasury or build a temple for her, imprison her within its walls and know she belongs to him... Yes, it would be nice to have a separate temple for her, to make her goddess and priestess, slave and empress. Just so he could see her, marvel at her.... Yes, that would be nice, but he's been looking at her too long. It's a weakness, and he has none. “Aren't you tired of kicking whores out of the marital bed?” — he asked wryly, skilfully hiding his longing behind a grin.