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FUCKING FARSE

The sun had long set over the sprawling imperial palace, casting long shadows across the cold, marble floors of the meeting room. Caracalla stood by the large, open windows, his back to the room, watching the last traces of daylight fade into the horizon. He had summoned them both. His patience had worn thin, and the tension between Geta and Livia had gone on long enough. He couldn't afford to let their petty games and bitter silences tear the empire apart.

"Are you ready for this?" Caracalla's voice was a low murmur, more to himself than anyone else. He could feel the weight of the moment pressing in on him. They had to get past this.

The doors to the room opened with a slow creak, and both Geta and Livia entered. Their eyes met for a fleeting second, then quickly turned away. Caracalla's jaw tightened. He could already feel the storm brewing, the undercurrent of animosity so thick it almost felt tangible.

"I'm sure we all know why we're here," Caracalla began, turning to face them. "This... This farce has gone on long enough."

"Farce?" Livia's voice was cool, too calm for the depths of anger simmering beneath it. "Is that what you think of our marriage? A farce?" Her gaze was sharp, directed at Geta now, but her words cut deep, aimed at both men in the room. "How flattering."

Geta scoffed, his eyes darkening as he crossed his arms over his chest. "A marriage that's nothing more than a political tool. A power play between two families. What did you expect, Livia? Romance? Passion? Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"You're as much of an idiot as you've ever been," she shot back, stepping closer. "You think your dalliances will make a difference? That your constant parade of women will somehow make me feel threatened? You're a fool, Geta. A pathetic fool who can't even keep his own house in order."

Geta's face hardened, his nostrils flaring in indignation. "At least I don't pretend to be something I'm not. I've never fooled myself into thinking our marriage was anything but a convenient alliance. You're the one who's been playing games, manipulating men to your whims—seducing senators like it's some kind of sport."

The words hung heavy in the air. Livia stepped forward, her eyes narrowing as she met Geta's gaze, her lip curling into a sneer. "Don't speak to me about manipulation, Geta. You're no better. You've been flaunting your whore of the week for months now. You can't even keep a woman around for more than a day, so don't pretend you know anything about playing the game."

He moved toward her, stepping into her personal space with barely contained rage. "At least I don't need to bed men to feel powerful, Livia. I don't need their flattery or their empty praises. You need them to feel important. You can't stand the idea that you're just another woman in this empire, one who has to crawl her way to the top."

Livia recoiled, her hand clenched into a fist. "I've earned everything I have, Geta. Everything! I've fought for this position. I didn't have the luxury of sitting around, waiting for my chance like you did."

Caracalla watched in silence, his fists clenched at his sides as the argument grew more heated. The two of them seemed locked in a battle of words, both determined to wound the other. But beneath the barbs and sharp retorts, Caracalla could feel the truth in their words—truth they refused to confront.

Finally, he couldn't stay silent any longer. "Enough," he growled, his voice heavy with authority. "You're both wasting time, tearing each other apart. Do you think this petty squabbling will help? Do you think it'll save the empire? The people?"

The room fell quiet. Both Geta and Livia stood, chest heaving, eyes blazing, but no more words came. Caracalla's gaze swept over them, both of them standing there like two gladiators, waiting for the next round.

Livia broke the silence first, her voice as cold as ice. "You're right," she said, though her words lacked any true remorse. "It's a game. A game we've both been playing, and I'm done with it. I've played my part, and now I'm finished pretending."

Geta's lips curled into a bitter smile. "Same here. I've never cared about you or this stupid fucking marriage. We've been pretending for too long, Livia. You've got your games, I've got my whores. We're both fine on our own. Let's not fool ourselves any longer."

Livia's eyes narrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line. "So that's it, then? We'll just keep this charade going for the empire's sake, and pretend we're still a unified front?"

"Yes," Geta said with a shrug, his eyes cold. "Why not? The people don't care. The senators don't care. As long as we stand together in public, that's all that matters."

Caracalla's frustration mounted, but he could see that there was no changing their minds now. The cracks in their relationship were too deep, and no amount of intervention from him would fix what was already broken. He clenched his jaw, exhaling sharply.

"So, that's how it will be?" Caracalla asked, his voice dangerously calm. "You two will live your separate lives, only coming together when it's necessary, when the empire demands it?"

Both Geta and Livia nodded, though neither of them looked satisfied by the agreement. It was a compromise born of necessity, not desire.

"Fine," Caracalla muttered, his hands clenching into fists. "But mark my words—this isn't over. You may think you've settled this, but there's always a cost when you ignore what's been broken."

They both turned away from him, their footsteps heavy as they exited the room in separate directions. Caracalla stared at the empty space they left behind, his heart heavy with the weight of their decision. He'd wanted them to reconcile, to put their differences aside for the good of the empire, but instead, he had witnessed them confirm what he had feared all along: they had nothing left to give each other.

Their marriage was nothing more than a fucking farse.

A/N

guys I have no clue what I'm writing atp I legit rewrote five diff versions of this chapter, this is the one that sucked the least so yea :)