To Return And View The Cheerful Skies

It was late at night and still incredibly hot. The warm wind blew through the curtains causing them to bubble and flow almost like waves on an ocean. The air felt almost suffocating as he watched as his brother fell asleep again, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. His hair, which shone like pure gold in the moonlight, stuck to his forehead as his vision clouded with the wetness of his tears. His brother's breathing evened out again and he knew he had fallen asleep, but he could not move himself from the chair he sat in by the bed. He fiddled with the rings on his fingers before stopping due to the noise and not wanting to wake up his recently subdued twin brother. Not taking his eyes from the fixed spot on the wall by his brother's bed, he placed his fingers on the bridge of his nose, trying to quell the headache that threatened to form.

"Let the gods decide" he muttered, repeating the words he had been told by Macrinus, the man who he trusted greatly.

He'd been betrayed by the beloved General Acacius, he and his brother both. He knew he had to punish Acacius, that he must die. With the guidance of Macrinus, a true friend, he knew it had to be in the arena. In gladiatorial combat. His father had always warned him not to place cherished individuals in the area, but his father wasn't there, was he? Macrinus was there and he had counseled him to do just the opposite.

He looked at his brother again, wishing he knew all of the answers to keep his brother safe, to keep the empire safe, but he didn't. How could he? Even as one of the two most powerful people in the whole of the empire, he felt powerless, being betrayed, feeling threatened. Hs brother's disease ate away at his brain, causing him to descend further into madness with each day. This did not make it easier. He held games to appease his brother. He listened to his brother when he could. He loved his brother. But, what could he do?

...

The battle the next day had gone buy quickly as the general had surrendered and Geta ordered that he be killed. He sensed something was strange when the gladiator who Lucilla loved would not kill the general. The pretorian guard had been the ones to finish the job. To finish what Macrinus had lead him to believe was the work of the gods. When the people, however, began to fight back, to rise up, to scream, to call for his and his brother's heads, he knew he'd messed up.

He had taken his brother back to the palace and was pacing, thinking through everything. Could he no longer trust those he trusted? Had he lost the empire? Would he lose his brother? Macrinus had originally followed them back to the palace, but he had taken himself and his brother to another room, away from Macrinus. He had said it was to soothe his brother, but, in reality, he needed to think through the day.

As he paced around the room, his brother fed his pet monkey. His brother was shaking, hearing the voices of those outside the palace. He could not bear to look at Caracalla. He had hurt him. He had caused him to go into one of his episodes of panic. He hated when that was his fault. All he wanted was to make his brother happy. This was not that.

"Geta." Caracalla mumbled, watching as he continued to pace the room. "Geta, they are calling for our heads."

"It will be put down by the guards, like it always is, brother." Geta finally responded, while pacing still.

His brother's monkey squealed, causing him a great bout of irritation, he turned suddenly on his heals to face his brother. Then he realized: it was Macrinus. Macrinus had told him of the betrayal. Macrinus had told him to put the General in the area. Macrinus had told him Acacius must die. Macrinus had done nothing to stop the uprising. Geta called for the pretorian guard, before realizing that they were all outside, trying to calm the uprising.

"Brother." Geta said to Caracalla. "It was all Macrinus, brother. I assumed I could trust him. He seemed to only want to help us and-" tears began to form in Geta's eyes as he unraveled the truth aloud to his brother. Caracalla looked up at him from his seat on the floor, tears seemingly in his own eyes as he too realized bits and pieces of what his brother meant, his mind too far gone to fully understand the gravity of the situation.