It was terrible. No, more than terrible. People of Rome were FURIOUS, yelling and demanding, threatening with fire everyone and everything surrounding them. The bloodthirsty mob calls for Geta and Caracalla's death outside the palace. The Praetorians were standing still, trying to somehow soothe the situation - but nothing worked.

Poor Emperor Geta watched it all in fear, his mind and heart racing. How come the whole Rome turned against them? The whole burden was on his shoulders. Rome, his brother Caracalla, status and his daughter that he had so many plans for. With a single tear falling down his cheek, the ginger emperor buried his face into silk curtain, trying to at least for a moment catch a breath.

But it wasn't possible, not in this scenario. Emperor Caracalla suddenly walked in with a blade in his hands. He started to accuse his brother for lying and everything else. Geta tried to speak to his mind, til he felt that blade slicing his hand. Within seconds they both were on their knees with Geta trying to speak throughout that dumb head of his brother, the one that tried to kill him.

It seemed to work. In Caracalla's eyes there was that glint of some humanity, regret and confusion. "Break the spell!" he yelled, before Geta's voice got gentler with a slight crack. "I always protected you because I love you. Come back," he begged, and then he noticed Macrinus walking in.

He wanted to ask for help, but seeing his daughter, his beloved made his tongue twist inside the mouth. He never wanted her to see how her own uncle tried to harm him, or just to see Caracalla in such a bad state. He loved her as much as his brother and he perfectly knew that they had good relations. This moment could ruin it all.

"Help me," Emperor Geta breathed out while looking up at her with his big, brown pleading eyes, before returning his gaze to the crazy Caracalla. The time was running out.