December 26, 211 was a very ordinary day. Geta had been muttering something since morning about his brother trying to take away his authority over domestic politics. She didn't listen, lounging in bed a little longer than usual. This man is always displeased about something, always angry about something, but it's okay as long as he's satisfied with her. With her eyes closed, she was stretching her limbs after sleep to his muttering about plans, tonight another dinner in his mother's chambers... Yes, this woman never gives up hope of reconciling her brothers, arranging these dinners without weapons or poison... She never attended these dinners, per Geta's will. The sun played on her face, and as soon as she opened her eyes, she was surrounded by glare - reflections from all the gold that surrounded her. It promised to be a great day. “I won't see you until nightfall, my Empress” said Geta finally, running his fingers over her shoulder. The rings on his fingers chilled her skin, giving her goosebumps that followed his touch relentlessly. “See you later, my canary.” ** December 26, 211 was a momentous day. The day of his triumph. The day that would begin the history of his one-man rule. How many times has Caracalla tried to do this! Planted concubines, bribed servants, enlisted soldiers... His best attempt was an assassination during the festival of Saturnalia. His brother survived back then, he survived all the time. With each new attempt, his vigilance only grew sharper. But today! Everything was so well arranged. He had only to follow the circumstances that had worked out so well, paving the way to triumph. Their dear mother, the lovely Mother of the two Suns of the Roman Empire, was once again hosting her lovely dinners. No weapons, no poisons, no enmity. And they came without weapons, eating at the same table and exchanging short phrases. Caracalla only waited for the moment, unable to contain his triumphant smile, indulging in fantasies of the future. A future with a single Sun in the sky of the Roman Empire. It happened in an instant, a tense family dinner turned into chaos. Somehow, Caracalla thought it would be slow so he could savor the moment. His loyal Praetorian Guard members burst into his mother's chambers, surrounded them, and dragged Geta from the table. He resisted, a wimpy worm, but he could hardly do anything against the armed guards. Realizing he wouldn't overpower them, Geta tried to run, but couldn't even make it to the door. Pathetic. Caralla watched with nervous excitement, feeling the corners of his lips twitch in a scowl. It was about to happen. Geta was grabbed, and now he was already fallen to his knees. Their sweet kind mother was frantically trying to protect her son, begging to stop, clawing at the hands of the guards, and shoving them away. Behind all the screaming, Caracalla barely heard his brother's words as his face pressed against his mother's lap: “Oh, mother who gave me birth, protect me as I am being murdered!” and after a painful cry that came from the very wound caused by the sword, came a quiet last sob, “Mummy, mummy, I'm being killed.” Just like that, Emperor Geta, his brother, and worst enemy, died. For Caracalla, it was as if the world froze for a moment, as if everything around him lost its clear outline and turned gray, only to come alive again with his laughter. This is how a new world is born. He couldn't stop. He laughed until his stomach began to ache, until his cheeks began to cramp from his wide smile. It's happening! “Mummy, Mummy, I'm your only Sun now.” he finally uttered, breathing heavily in a new fit of laughter. * She was summoned to the Emperors' mother's chamber. It was odd, this had never happened before during family dinners. Moreover, it wasn't the servant who serves Geta who reported it. This servant she did not know, which means he was from the part of the palace that belongs to Caracalla. ** Caracalla paced his mother's chambers, unable to calm his nervous excitement. It had happened! He had done it! Now his story begins! He alternately laughed, tried to speak to his kind mother and calm her down, and then laughed again afterwards. How much more there was to do. For starters, he would have to order the execution of all of his brother's supporters. Lest they rebel, of course. Tomorrow he would announce to the Senate his order for damnatio memoriae to his brother's memory. Geta's image will be removed from all paintings, coins melted down, statues destroyed, his very name stricken from the papyrus records. And it became a death crime to speak or write the name of Geta. How many people will die? Ten thousand? Twenty thousand? He would kill them all, his brother's entire inner circle - his guards and advisers, his friends and other military men who worked for him. Geta would be forgotten. “And as for her... There she is” Caracalla gleamed a smile, turning towards the sound of footsteps on the marble at the entrance to the chambers. “Our lovely sister-in-law. Little Empress. Come on in, don't be shy, join our family dinner.” Caracalla waved towards the displaced table, the overturned chairs and the food scattered on the floor. And, of course, towards his mother, who cradled Geta's cooling body like a child. “He died pathetically, you know. Called for mummy. Didn't even think of you.” he shrugged, adjusting the rings on his fingers. “Just don't cry. He was too pathetic to mourn, and I won't stand for two grieving women.” With a wave of his hand, he ordered the guards to pull up chairs, then sat down in one of them. “Let's think better of it. I'd like to kill you too, sweet sister-in-law. You might want to get back at me. I'd snap that pretty neck and toss your corpse to my brother. But that's irrational, after all, the position of an empress is so prominent, everyone loves empresses. Although, please note that an empress without an emperor or his heir is like a lost whore... So, what should I do with you? Kill you, mercy you, make you my concubine? The options are many, the choice is up to you.” He stretched his arm forward as if they were in the arena, and it was up to him to decide whether the gladiator should live or die. Gladiator, empress, brother. Is there a difference? All of them should amuse him.