synopsis: an arrow is shot at his child, and geta must do what needs to be done. (2.6k)
contents: geta being geta, near death experiences, murder, violence, blood and gore, (paul mescal's character in killed in this ), geta being a gaslighter and lowkey kinda weird.
a/n: i'm not too sure how i feel about this! i hope you all enjoy it!! also, question here, if i started posting eddie munson with a sister reader, would anyone be interested?
based off of this request!!: hi love your dad!geta fics so much 🥹🩷 i rewatched the trailer earlier and i can’t stop thinking about the scene where an arrow gets shot at them. i wonder how geta would react to that happening while his daughter is with them… he would go INSANE.
another naval battle had been put into motion for caracalla's birth celebration. geta had watched as his brother whispered to his niece, giggling as they donned matching cloaks.
geta had pulled his daughter aside before their descent into the tunnels leading to the colosseum, pulling his child into his arms. she readily accepted the hug, nuzzling her cheek into the gold of his chest plate as they stood in an empty room.
both of them knew the risks of going to the games. however, only one of them donned armor.
his daughter had cried and begged to be taken out of the chest plate the first time geta had given it to her, squirming and shifting the entire time the gold sat heavy on her chest.
after that, she went without.
even now, he could feel the soft skin of her arms wrap around his neck, warmed by the sun. she had spent the day out in the sun, running around gardens with her servants, twirling through the grass and flowers as geta watched from palatine.
she had even dressed the part, a long, flowy white dress that was cinched by a belt of seashells his mother had brought back from seaside. she had donned a soft blue palla that seemed to shimmer as the sun shone through the windows.
she looked soft, gentled by the delicate fabrics that shone in the sun. she looked like a child, his child. there was no debating their familial ties, not when she donned matching jewelry with both emperors. there was no debating it when they wore the same laurel wreath, haloing their hair.
geta loved days like these when it was painfully obvious that she was his child.
when they make it out into the box, rome seems to have shared the same sentiment.
while roses were launched into the box underneath the guise of a celebration of his brother, most of them ended up at his daughter's feet.
as the games began, he kept a careful eye on his child, aimlessly knotting the stems together in bracelets and necklaces that would end up in his hair in the safety of their chambers.
she was leaned up against the corner of their chair, head lulling back against the back of the chair as she basked in the sun, enjoying the cheers that surrounded her. every now and then, she would whisper something to general acacius that ended with a giggle before she would turn back to the roses.
the battle below is a bloody one, filled with gladiators dropping left and right, whether it be from the rocky water or an arrow to the chest.
caracalla would giggle every time a body dropped into the water, dramatically splashing water into the air. content with his daughter's safety, geta had turned his full attention to the game, joining his brother in laughter as men dropped.
his daughter would let the occasional giggle slip when one of the men slipped on the board, grunting in pain as they landed on the wood.
geta is holding his daughter's hand when it happens.
she's playing with the rings on his fingers, twisting and turning them as the battle continues, still leaning back against the chair.
he had turned his attention away from the battle for the shortest of moments to look at his child, drinking in the sight of her safe and content next to him when it happened.
he hears his daughter's scream before anything else processes.
an arrow wedges itself into the top of their chair, pinning the top of his daughter's palla to the chair. she's twisting and clutching an ear as he jumps in front of her, taking a pale cheek into his own hand as guards flank them.
she's wailing louder than the yells of the crowd, blood running down the side of her neck as she clutches her ear. geta barely registers yanking the arrow out of the chair before he's got an armful of his wailing daughter.
panic erupts in the colosseum as geta tramples roses underneath his feet as he cradles his daughter, shielding her body from any other arrows. she's sobbing, trying to articulate words but failing as she fists bloody handfuls of his tunic.
he can see where the arrow grazed her ear, already swollen and cut, gushing blood down the side of her neck. "shh, shh, carus, it'll be okay", he's rasping as he whispers to his child, pressing her closer to his chest.
general acasius is by their side in minutes, barking out orders to fetch a lucius from the stage, but geta can't even bring himself to talk past the anger festering in his throat.
he can't see past the red in his eyes. there's blood splattered on the chair from the arrow, forever tainting the gold, a sharp indent of the arrowhead leaving its mark behind.
to anyone else, it would look as if he was shaking from worry, or perhaps anxiety, but pure, unbridled anger seized his body.
he craved the feeling of blood splattering against the floor from the edge of his sword, the thud of body parts falling onto the floor as their owner screeches in pain. geta craves blood, but not the blood that stained his tunic.
nor could he let his daughter see him in such a fit of anger.
she had seen him in minuscule fits of anger, he had grabbed and yanked her before, he had yelled and cursed at her before, and he had done far worse to others in-front of her. she had sat there and watched him give the clear to have men killed in the colosseum.
yet, geta had never killed in-front of her. he had never brandished a weapon and took a life in front of his child.
it seemed idiotic to do so. to taint her unblemished soul with the sight of violence, to steal the small form of innocence she still possessed within the world.
it would be the cruelest thing for him to do, to take a life in-front of his child, scarring her mind with senseless violence that would keep her awake for nights to come.
and who knows how she would react?
would she lie awake in a constant state of paranoia like caracalla? only lulled to a lonesome sleep by glasses of wine? no matter how loyal his child was, geta could not gamble with the fates this time.
even as his hand itched near his sword, and his mind begged for him to turn around and strike lucius down, he followed the guards into the tunnels, keeping his shaking child close.
his daughter falls asleep after clinging to him like a toddler.
she fights the healer's hands, paranoia burning its way into her mind as they smother herbs onto the wound, eventually covering it as her fight wears off.
geta hides her that night.
he twists into the rooms behind his chambers, the space void of any guards or servants, unknown to anyone but him. it's sparsely decorated, a room that only served as a hiding spot for his child in the case of war.
smaller tunnels sprawled out from the room, filled to the brim with items that could keep his child alive for months.
this had been where geta kept her for the first years of her life. he had kept a wet-nurse contained back here, living a lavish, yet secluded life. he had ventured into this room nearly every day for years, watching his child grow underneath his watchful gaze.
eventually, she had grown to be four, and geta knew it was time to unveil his child.
there was still blood seeped into the stone from the wet-nurse's end. she had died in her sleep, a simple honor killing that required no additional bloodshed. he had done it as a simple precaution, leaving him as his daughter's sole provider.
he had drug the body out himself and ordered her buried the same day.
but now, now his child lays upon a different bed, swaddled in linens he had snatched from their bed. she was fast asleep, so with one final look, geta turns on his heels and locks her in the room.
it would be no good if she managed to get out.
geta finds general acacius standing outside of a cage in the depths of palatine.
the gladiator who shot his daughter stands in the corner, lips pulled into a snarl as he studies the man. the man looked oddly familiar, but geta couldn't care less. the gladiator stands in the dim torchlight, his arms muscular and flexed.
his attire is soaked in sweat and blood—a twisted testament to the brutality of the games below. geta’s gaze narrows on the man, finding it painstakingly hard to separate him from the chaos and pain that had erupted moments ago.
rage bubbles in his chest, raw and scorching as he glares. “is this him?” geta’s voice is a low growl, laden with anger. “the one who shot the arrow?” general acacius nods, a grim look of understanding reflecting in his weary eyes.
“imperator,” acacius interrupts, his tone flat, trying to pull geta back from the edge. “he wasn’t aiming for her. he was aiming for me. you can’t kill a man for an errant shot.”
geta turns his head, incredulous laughter escaping his lips. “so that makes her collateral damage, does it? is that your justification, general?”
acacius shifts underneath his gaze, turning his head away from the cage, yet remains silent. geta scoffs, a snarl pulling across his lips as he waves the general away, turning to study the man in the cage.
in this room, geta is not a father.
he is an emperor, a man blessed by the gods to reign control over rome, and what emperor would he be if he let senseless violence taint his empire?
what emperor would he be if he allowed this man to live? to continue his life after committing such a crime in-front of rome's citizens? her citizens craved bloodshed much like their emperors, but this was unneeded bloodshed.
this was the type of bloodshed that made tensions rise in the streets, to further divide rome from her emperors.
his hands settled on the hilt of his sword, lunging it through the bars and into the man's shoulder.
the gladiator howls, the sound echoing through the chamber, yanking himself off of geta's blade, blood spurting from the wound. he stumbles back into the wall, lowering himself onto his haunches as he presses his hands up against his shoulder, almost as if it would stop the bleeding.
the gladiator lies cold in the cage, body disassembled by geta's sword, an unrecognizable jumble of blood and muscle
when he comes back, blood is splattered across his body. it drips from his hands onto palatine's floor, leaving a trail of blood as he strides to his chambers.
he's twisting through the tunnels once more, unlocking the door that leads him to his daughter.
she's still sleeping when he comes in, blissfully unaware of the bloodshed that just occurred in her name.
but geta is still not calmed.
blood has seeped through the bandages of his daughter's ear, leaking onto the linens. geta sits on the edge of the bed, reaching a bloodied hand out to grasp his child's cheek, relishing in the way the liquid transfers to her skin. it drips down her nose, a stark contrast to her skin.
he's not sure how long he sits there, pressing bloody hands to his daughter's face until there's not an ounce of unblemished skin left. the blood begins to solidify and crumble on his hands, so he presses a kiss to her hair, pulling back to see the blood on his face has transferred to her hair.
she stirs awake from the kiss, blinking sleep-fuzzed eyes up at him as he pulls her to her feet, pulling her into his side.
she doesn't bat an eye at the blood, only leaning further into his side as she struggles to pull herself out of her sleep state, blearily blinking as they walk out of his chambers.
he pulls her through the halls, following the blood trail back to the cage.
his daughter needed to see bloodshed in her name, needed to understand the lengths he was willing to go for her. she needed to understand the power she held in her hands.
geta needed her to stay, and even if she turned away from him and the body, and wished death and cruel things upon her father, he would never let her go.
she could grow up, safe and sound in that room behind his chambers. he could love her and have the fear of death eliminated from his mind, knowing that his child was safe.
but, his child functioned off of freedom, and it would be cruel of him to lock her up.
so, his child needed to see bloodshed. she needed to know that he would always keep her safe, that he will never let a deed go unpunished.
when they arrive at the chamber, the gladiator is still on the floor, a pitiful mess of blood and muscle.
the acrid scent of blood pierces the air and makes his daughter's face screw up in distaste. yet, she makes no move to leave as they stand in-front of the pile.
"my daughter," his voice is a quiet rasp, somehow booming in the silence of the chamber as his child turns to face him, "this is what happens when someone harms us, does it scare you?"
if he hadn't been staring at her, he wouldn't have seen the tears brimming on her waterlines and the barely visible nod. but he does, and it fills him with a sick glee.
"i told you, long ago when you fled to the stables, that our world was filled with terrible people? people who wish to see you dead?"
"look at this man, this man who tried to harm you, do you feel guilty?"
a nod, more tears. geta's hand cups her face,
"don't feel guilty, my child. this is what happens to people who try to hurt you, i had to do this, do you see what i must do to keep you safe?"
another nod, she's pressing her face into his cloak,
"this is why you must always stay with me, carus, so many people want to hurt you, take you far, far away from me. if you stay with me, i can keep you safe from them, but i must take these measures."
his child is sobbing in the torchlight, terror taking ahold of her body as she shuffles herself into his cloak, making an effort not to look at the body.
he shushes her cries, standing in the chamber for far longer than he should, letting his whispers sink into her head.
selfishly, geta knows his child will never leave him. the scent of fresh blood in the air, someone's blood covering both of their faces, a constant reminder that he will always protect her.
she's scared. deathly so, and she shakes and shivers with terror as they make the walk back to their chambers.
perhaps it's even crueler of him to expose her like this.
to let terror sink into her bones, to mold her into this paranoid creature that fears harm, to manipulate her into fearing everyone but him.
but it's the easiest way to keep her safe, and if he has to deal with a few nightmare plagued nights, geta will deal with it.
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xoxo, ems<3
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