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She couldn't say when it'd truly began.
When they were in their youth and curiosity over the newly arising sensations within them took over? No, far earlier than that.
When they were in their mother's womb, perhaps. It made the most sense to her riddled mind, hazy with a bleak understanding of her surroundings.
Dancers flecked in gold contorted their bodies atop of raised marble podiums and servants all but drenched in their favourite colour stood posted at the entrance with golden bowls of exotic foods and little trinkets held in their arms.
White roses everywhere she looked, on the floor, on the walls, on her dress, in her hair. She had received a grand bushel of her favourite blooming from her beloved brother, tied off with a cloth of gold ribbon and laid on top of the saddle she had used to mount her horse—also a gift from Geta. Anyone would be able to recognize her noble foal by the proud expression and sturdy legs it carried like a badge of glory.
Yet it hadn't been enough for Geta, and she didn't think it ever would be. More, more, more. Take, take, take. It hadn't been enough to watch her trot around the Domus Flavia, a look of pride shining in his dark eyes at the smile his sister was wearing as she became acquainted with her steed. It was well bred and well behaved, as to be expected for a name day gift to the Empress herself.
Even an Emperor could be made, be softened, to bow at her feet and grant her every flight of fancy.
He fondly remembered the way his blade had glimmered in the sun, sharpened tip digging into the tunic of Palatine's stable master as he cautioned what should befall the man if the animal wasn't to his sweet sisters liking.
Geta had told her as such, a wicked smile of amusement curling his lips up in a way that made her weak at the knees.
Caracalla had opted for a more human approach to their conjoined natales imperii.
"There shall be no better protection in Rome for your Domina" he had proclaimed to the crowd. The courtiers clapped and ooed and awed at the brute called Sirius. He was bedecked in the traditional garb of the Praetorian Guard—a white civilian toga that reached shy above his knees with a longsword swinging from his hips— save for the lone, single white rose pinned to his breast that proudly showcased who he was being presented for. If she hadn't been looking, the flower would've been missed by her naked eye the way it blended in with his ensemble.
Thick wisps of smoke fluttered into her face, a warmth like no other flowing through her life blood when she inhaled. She was water—endless, flowing and pure in this state. She did not even try to stop herself from melting into her cushioned throne, lying at an odd angle to any clear headed patron in attendance. She was a goddess to herself, and that was all that mattered.
Mayhaps to her brothers as well.
"More?" Geta chuckled pushing the smoking pipe toward her face and frowning deeply when she lightly shoved his hand away. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip and she smiled up at him, her twin looking more devilishly handsome than ever in his grand golden laurel wreath. "Any more and I might just fall out of this chair, brother"
"We will catch you whenever you fall. Always" Caracalla insisted, the most sober of the three imperial rulers. She could never not appreciate her eldest brother, so witty and clever and playful. He had been that way even when their father was dragging him and their brother from camp to camp on war campaigns, always so wise and such a leader. Yet something had been amiss with him for a while, had it not?
She was in no state of being, or even really just the mood to try and contemplate what had been causing their brothers sporadic bouts of anger as of late. Everyday it got worse it seemed, but today was a good day, it would be a good day for Caracalla, even if she had to reach high up to the heavens and throttle the goddess Pax with her bare hands. Her brother would have peace everything and everyone else be damned.
"Then I have nothing to fear" she said easily.
"No, there is nothing" Geta cut in tersely, eyes down cast to the swirling liquid in his chalice. The thought of her, of them cowering away from anything this known world had to offer made him weary. His brother and sister deserved everything—every laugh, every smile, every tear, every great love and heartbreak, every monument created in their names. They would have the world itself if they wished it so as far as he was concerned. “You will never have to fear, for long as we are together," he looked between she and Caracalla, a sense of reverence for each of them in their mother's eyes. "We shall prosper"
"We are safe yet, brother. Our gifts have been presented, yet she holds off on her own grand reveal. Our sweet sister makes me nervous" Caracalla quipped, his sharp grin only growing in size when he seen the way her opium induced little head began to spin.
"You wish to see them that badly? Give our courtiers time to recoup, Calla" she hackled, laughing probably much louder than she thought she was. "They've just barley cut the cake"
As if to prove her point, she stuck an outstretched arm out and pointed a ring clad finger all around the room. It was partly true, the attendees all walking, standing or sitting, but each with a small slice of wheat cake on their golden plates. Gods there was so much gold it was liable to make her sick.
She had merely raised an eyebrow at her brother's choice of cake when she'd first seen it, but said nothing more.
If it made them feel good to play pretend on their special day, so be it.
Caracalla narrowed his eyes at her, leaning down to whisper. Their earrings— both favourites from their mothers jewels— clinked together as they met, and his breath on the shell of her ear had her closing her eyes, chasing an ecstasy that wouldn't come.
"To hell with the masses. It is our name day, your name day...I intend for everything to go exactly as Geta and you will it, not them"
She strummed her fingers along the arm of her throne in consideration, rings clinking against the ordainments of their virtues and superior authority. "Very well" she told them flatly. Her fingers snapped and in an instant a nearby slave was bowing before her.
"Imperial Majesty" the girl greeted her. An educated slave, then.
"Fetch Marius for me, he's the one in those ridiculous pig pink robes" Her other halves snorted beside her. "Tell him I wish for my brothers to receive their gifts”
She gave a silent nod of her head and went to do as she was bid, not without throwing another Imperial Majesty in her wake.
The Empress narrowed her eyes at the girls retreating form, eyeing her up and down. The little slave girl was quite pretty. Not as pretty as she herself, but pretty enough to be considered upon.
Tis' a shame it was, that neither of her twin brothers missed her ogling.
She saw a flash of pink out of the corner of her eye and couldn't stop herself from smiling in knowing.
Their exotic dancers had just started swaying and toeing to a new jig when the resounding blare of trumpets made everyone jump in surprise. The golden instruments carried a mighty tune through the aula regia, effectively making her spectacle the main focus of the night. All by design of course.
Marius, their auspicious animal wrangler, sauntered into the room, pink skirts swishing about him just so as he approached. "Your Imperial Majesties" he bowed on one knee, hand tucked tightly behind his back. "Tis' an honour to make your acquaintance once more"
He rose with a flick of Caracalla'a wrist. "The honour is ours, Marius. You are one of Rome's prides and joys, you have helped redefine what a proper Colosseum game is. May the Gods bless you and your brood"
Marius blushed a deep pink. "You are too kind, Emperor Caracalla, though.." the man held up a finger to his chin, jesting deep consideration. "I don't know if I can say kinder than our most gracious Domina. She honours you both as much as she does the greatness of Rome with her selections"
Geta leaned forward in his seat, bubbling with excitement and waving a hand as if to direct the man as he finished off his third helping of deep Falernian wine. "Let's see it then, go on"
"Empress?" Marius turned to her, awaiting an answer though she could tell by the look in his eyes that he deigned the action folly. He would do as ordered, whether it passed from her or her brother’s lips if he wanted to keep his inflated head on his shoulders.
"Bring them out, Marius"
The animal wrangler all but jumped for joy and positivity beamed with pleasure as he ordered his servants around. Six large men with silver collars clasped around their necks disappeared behind the thick floor to ceiling doors of the great hall, reemerging shortly thereafter wheeling in two large cages that were draped in silk damasks. One was turquoise, the other a deep crimson red and she felt her heart flutter at the way each of her brother's eyes lit up like candles in the dark at her attention to detail.
Snarls and hisses could be heard beneath the damasks and the cages shook from left to right, just barely kept contained by Marius's slaves. The man in question whirled around to face the onlookers and raised his arms high toward the sky. "My fellow courtesans," he began loudly. "Imperator's" he said more quietly, turning his head to specially acknowledge them. "I give to you..."
The damasks were pulled back and a loud conjoined gasp rung out.
"Sekhmet" Marius presented the female crocodile who was gnawing at the bars of her enclosure with a wild wave of his hand, putting on the performance of a lifetime. "And Horus" he said with a tone of finality as he walked around the cage of the largest crocodile. "They hail straight from the Nile, Imperial Majesties. Ready for one of your famed mock Naval battles, at your command of course"
The courtiers gave a loud round of applause, her brothers included as everyone hooped and hollered at her boisterous gifts that swished their tales in agitation at all the noise. She turned her head to look at Geta and Caracalla, and felt a tightness grip her chest. They looked like boys again, her boys again, giddy and happy and clapping their hands together in glee.
She hadn’t seen either of them this carefree since before their ascent to the throne.
"I trust I did not disappoint?" she inquired knowingly.
"You could have given us a bushel of barley and it would not disappoint, but this..." Geta trailed off, still aghast with wonderment as he watched Marius and his servants wheel the cages out of the hall—to the Imperial gladiator stables no doubt.
"They will be put to great use, indeed" Caracalla mused finishing off his chalice of sweet red wine and rising with a swirl of richly dyed fabrics, holding out a hand for her to take. "I suddenly feel faint," he said with a start and mockingly put the back of his left hand against his temple. "Shall we retire for the evening?"
She bit her cheek, eyes darting around the room. It wouldn't bode well for the very people the entirety of Rome was celebrating to leave their own party early and yet...to hell with the masses, right? It was their special day, after all.
"It is rather hot in here, I agree. Some fresh air would certainly do me good"
They both turned their heads toward Geta, who looked to be deep in thought about something. When he felt eyes burning holes through him, he finally looked up. "You two go ahead" he gestured toward the door with a lazy flick of his finger. "I'll catch up"
If Caracalla thought it as odd as she, he did not voice it. Holding her hand in an iron tight grasp, they quietly departed side by side, occasionally stopping to briefly acknowledge their most important Senators and Generals as well as the Commander of the Praetorian Guard, who regarded them with keen interest. Her distribution of the monthly Praetorian Guard' donative from their coffers kept the man in check and in good spirits, which in turn kept her brothers and she safely seated on the throne.
For she would be damned if she allowed that corrupt band of toga wearing fanatics to harm what little remained of their family.
They were escorted to Caracalla's cubiculum by a respective flank of Praetorian guardsmen, their eyes waiting and watching for the slightest twitch and ready to strike. At an actual threat lurking in the shadows or the very people they were meant to guard, she could not confidently say which.
When the door was within sight, she could viscerally feel her shoulders go lax with relief, most especially when she watched Caracalla dismiss all but two of the men from their service until the morrow. One was sent back to the festivities to give word to their brother on whose chambers they had decided to retreat to, leaving them almost completely alone.
"Sister" Caracalla preened opening the door for her to step through. She sent a silent look of warning to the Praetorian that was left standing sentry outside of Caracalla's entryway like the glorified bodyguard he was, and slipped a small coin pouch into his awaiting hand.
"For your silence" she said levelly, ignoring the whiny voice calling out her name from inside the room. The man had the audacity to open the pouch, regarding the money suspiciously until he nodded, satisfied with the amount.
She would've scoffed at him, condemned him to the deepest hits of hell and back had it not been for the hand wrapping around her arm and yanking her into a warm chest, the door to Caracalla's chambers kicked shut behind her back.
"What took so long?" her brother questioned, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She gave him a lopsided smile, "Nothing important"
His eye twitched at her vague answer, a look that told her we'll talk about this later. "Did you enjoy our name day?" Caracalla asked casually, switching the subject to something lighter with an innocent look playing at his lips as strings and laces and fabrics of her gown were undone.
"Naturally" she gave a tentative shrug. "How could I not? All I can truly ask for in this life is that we stay as we are, together and harmonious. You both do your best to grant me that wish everyday you walk this mortal realm. You and Geta are the gift that never stops giving, no mind to the day of the year"
He stiffened, and sucked in a sharp breath, fingers twitching in place as he looked to the floor. Her twin had a sad pout adorning his features. "What sort of brothers would we be if we put you through peril and turmoil?"
"Unlike the brothers I know and love today" she whispered like a prayer, as if it were a most simple thing.
"We are one, halves of a whole" Caracalla spoke unwrapping the final piece of fabric that held her stola up on her shoulders and let it drop to the floor, revealing herself to him in her full glory. She was a young maiden still, having just turned ten and eight, but she knew she'd been blessed with their mother's curves. A full bust and wide hips were greedily absorbed by his wild blue eyes. She was not called the most beautiful woman in all of Rome for just any reason, after all. "So we must treat each other as such...as often as we can that is" he added playfully earning a smack on his chest, not hard, not truly violent.
Caracalla laughed, boyish and scatterbrained, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her over his shoulder, rubbing up and down her backside with his jewelry clad hand before softly dropping her onto the bed.
Her brother used his knee to spread her thighs apart and situated his self in between them, lips having barely brushed over hers when the doors to his cubiculum creaked open.
"I don't know whether to be offended on my behalf or the slave'”
At that she snapped her head over to where Geta stood in the threshold, the slave girl that had retrieved Marius earlier in the night hiding behind her twins shoulder like a frightened hen.
"Brother?" she croaked watching the slave avert her eyes and shake in terror, not willing herself to believe what she was seeing. Her Imperial Majesty naked as the day she were born and one of her Imperator's hovering over her form like he was guarding her beauty for himself, daring someone to try and take it—take her—from him.
Geta walked over, the slave in tow, though she came closer unwillingly and not without saying silent prayers that were not so silent. It would not matter in the end, for none of them, loud or quiet would be answered in this room, not here with them.
Her brother pursed his lips together, setting them into a tight line and fists clenching at his side when she tilted her head back to look up at him, as if he were teetering dangerously close to the line that blurred between self control and gluttony.
Geta leaned down capturing her lips with his own and slid his hands up her body, moving lithe as a snake, to cup her breasts, tweaking each of her nipples with his cold fingers and earning a moan into his mouth that he readily swallowed.
"Gods forgive me, rest my soul and sight in your eternal-"
"Quiet slave" she sighed wantonly into Geta's mouth as their kiss grew more heated, teeth clashing against each other until he begrudgingly separated from her. A fine greeting undoubtably, brother. “What is the meaning of this?" she asked green eyes darting between him and the unknown girl.
"Do you deny your desire to have her? Nothing about you gets past me, carrisma" he purred soft as a cats paw and beckoned the girl behind him closer. She came to stand at the foot of the bed and the Empress cocked her head to the side as she observed her further, finally getting the chance to see their pretty slave up close.
The girl could almost look like her in a certain light, the more her Imperial Majesty feasted with her eyes. The hair too dark, the eyes too big and body much too frail, but it was close enough. No small wonder the slave had caught their eye.
Her desire was evident, indeed, and a soft squelch sounded out in the room when Caracalla suddenly curled his fingers into her, the cold diamonds of his rings rubbing up against her most sensitive area.
She gasped, bucking her hips up toward him and chasing his hand, as if willing them to go deeper inside. Their sister threw her head back and reached out to Geta with a shaky hand. "Bring her to me, brother. Please"
Geta grinned, bits of mischief not lost on her as he unfastened a boiled leather jerkin, dirty and stained from years of refurbishments as it was passed down and size accordingly from servant to servant. They were not totally unkind to their slaves.
A rough brown and plain fabric fell to the floor in an anticlimactic plop at the removal of the one thing holding it in place. Geta gave a dramatic swoosh of his hand, bowing ever so slightly as if he were a Master of Ceremonies putting on a display for a crowd.
"The remainder of your name day gift in all its glory, my dearest sister. From Caracalla and I, to you, with heart and soul"
Caracalla could not even be bothered to hide his pleasure, thumb beginning to rub small circles over her clit in a way that made her eyes roll to the back of her head and his name tumble from her lips.
Geta smiled softly at the exchange, looking at the two fibres of his very being with nothing short of love and adoration as he wordlessly encouraged them to embrace each other for all eternity. The great elder and the gentle younger, that they were. He could merely pray and sacrifice to the Gods that they made room for him in between the divots of their beating, bleeding heart.
His face dropped, mask slipping like something out of macabre nightmare when he heard a pathetic snivel sound behind his back.
"Come here, girl" he called reaching out a veiny hand, not waiting for her to move on her own accord; a pliancy that would never come. "Your master has made a woman of you, yes?"
She saw the girl nod in her field of vision, though it was hard to truly care for the fearful expression decorating her face underneath Caracalla's thumb.
They had signed the decree with quills dipped in blood, that much was understood. It made her feel rotten, angry and ugly in such a cutting way that she forced herself to push it down, where things of that delicate nature belonged. Down deep and low into the abyss where their father resided and memories of purple bruises and boxed ears dwelled, never to see the surface again.
Geta had protected them and still bore the scars of his gallantry, though the sting of cuts and throbbing cheekbones had done nought to diminish Septimius Severus’s grandiose in his eyes.
"Yes, Caesar" A defeated sob as she was shoved onto the bed. She could not stop the way she recoiled when she almost tumbled into the gap of space between the twins.
It felt to lewd, to sinful to intrude on such an act.
"Don't be such a bore" Caracalla groaned, icy blue eyes blazing with fervour as he watched his sister shake and shiver with the aftershocks of her swift release. She made a soft keen of his name, a hand coming to wrap around his wrist with a delirious, far off look etched on her pretty face as she begged, prayed, and rejoiced in the way he expertly stretched her walls out with his little finger tricks she loved so much.
She did not waste a second of time, breathing in only once, twice, thrice before crawling to where the slave girl was curled up in a ball on the furthest side of the bed, turned away. Her frail body rippled with tremors—like water in a stampede.
A bore we shan't be, brother.
"Do you have a name?"
The girl's eyes went wide as dinner plates, mayhaps not expecting anyone, much less a member of the royal family to ask of her identity. "Katarina, Imperial Majesty"
She hooked a finger underneath the girls- Katarina's - chin, turning her head and softly planting her lips against Katarina’s. It earned a sharp gasp of astonishment that gave her the perfect opportunity to slip her tongue into the slaves mouth. She felt Geta's ringed hand slid up and down her spine languidly, his bare thighs hitting the back of her own when he leaned down and took the bulk of her copper red hair into his palm and lifted it back, up and out of the way of her ministrations.
"Don't move-" she heard Geta grunt to himself and she would've looked back, curious, if it had not been for the sweet intrusion of him entering her from behind. It was her turn to gasp now, mouth falling open against Katarina's as she lifted her lips from the slaves mouth. Geta did not let her stray far, his hand that had once been so soft and careful across her back turned from porcelain to ivory to steel in order to keep her in place.
Her brother was at her ear in an instant, barking his orders again. "I told you to keep still, did I not?"
A cold, pale hand reached over her shoulder to wrap around her throat, tilting her head back until their noses were touching. Her jaw went slack in his hold, opening just wide enough that he couldn't help but smirk. Geta's lips puckered and a trail of spit gathered at the tip of his tongue to fall into her awaiting mouth. She chuckled breathlessly, taking far more of a liking to that action than thought possible.
"You're perfect" he praised, eyes wide and awed with her.
"I am only as perfect as you are, as perfect as Calla is. The beauty of one of us could not possibly take away from the beauty of us all"
Katarina flinched underneath them when two pairs of eyes, one dark as night that was made even more terrifying by the sheer pale makeup smeared across his milky cheekbones, and one green, glittering prettily like a polished emerald looked upon her.
"Go to my brother" the Empress sighed airily, starting to slowly fuck herself on her brother's cock, a propensity she seemed to have without even realizing it. "Make him happy"
When Katarina did not move, Geta smacked an unkind hand down onto her thigh, one sure to leave welts because of his rings. "Your Domina has given you a command" he reminded dangerously squinting his eyes that in no short terms told her to obey or else.
Caracalla held out greedy arms that immediately scooped the girl up when she was within distance and hummed as he examined her face. "Far less pretty to look at than yourself, sweet sister, but this slave could almost pass for you under the cover of darkness" her twin's smile dropped, not seeming to like the verbal reminder that it wasn't actually their sister on her knees in front of him. The girl yelped as Caracalla harshly bent her over, ass in the air and face smushed into the crimson bedding, similar to how Geta was fucking into the woman in question just feet away. "All the better for me, I suppose" he cackled wickedly.
With a single thrust he sheathed himself into her stiff cunt, uncaring for her wail of pain at the sting. He had not prepared her, none of them did, but who could focus on the pleasure of a meagre slave girl when they had each other to worry about?
Caracalla saw the blood pooling around the rim of his cock and his mouth twitched, tongue darting out to lick at his lips as he scooped some onto his finger and reached over to drag it down his sister's lips, her eagerly lapping it up and letting out a guttural moan at a hard thrust Geta gave.
Katarina did not moan like his sister and it disgruntled Caracalla greatly. Weren't they supposed to put on a show regardless of what they were feeling?
A loud slap rang out in the room and both of the brothers stilled, all going silent save for the cry of agony Katarina let out as she clutched a hand to her cheek.
The Empress leaned down as much as she could to still keep Geta inside of her, voice husky and low in the slave girls ear. "If you upset my brother..." she told her, hand raised in warning should she deem another slap worthy. "This will only be the beginning of your agony. I'll have my entire Praetorian Guard and their horses fuck their way through you. All twelve hundred of them" she said so sweetly it made Katarina's head spin. She could see the stages of grief flash in her eyes all at once, the most prominent being the last: acceptance.
Katarina began to move her body in tune with Caracalla's and let out high pitched moans and groans, as she'd been trained to.
Geta leaned over, naked chest at her back as he started in on her with a downright brutal pace, one that made her cry out and twist the sheets in between her fingers, so desperate for something to ground herself to. She felt as if she were flying, eccentricity racking her body with every hiss of pleasure that rang out from behind both of her twins teeth.
Geta and Caracalla started to thrust sloppily, signalling their releases were near. The burning hot coil tightened in her belly, shooting all the way up her spine and down to her trembling thighs, not bothering to hold back her own whines anymore. She was damn near screaming, no, begging her brothers for respite, for release and pleasure and pain and a list of many other things she knew they’d be happy to indulge her in.
Katarina was the only one that had not been included in their conjoined orgasm, and Rome's Empress kissed her through her own climax, lips clashing together as her brothers fucked them both like wild animals from behind, each giving the girls a different level of sensation. The twins all threw themselves head first into the destructive waves of exemption they held for one another on these kind of matters as their slave was left to watch and downturn her eyes in shame after the act was said and done.
Caracalla unceremoniously withdrew, shoving the girl out of the way and crawling toward his siblings, reeking of a neediness for them so pungent and virginal it was almost precious to watch unfold. Almost.
"Off of my linens" their eldest brother snapped, scowling at the slave still at the foot of the bed. "You'll filthy them"
"Caesar" Katarina bowed her head, scrambling off of the lectus, albeit not without looking like she might hurl her supper up right then and there and standing on shaky legs. Blood smeared her inner thighs, but the girl said nothing as Geta and she stared at the tangible evidence of their brother's cruelty reproachfully.
This would surly cause a scandal of epic proportions, she thought discontentedly as they all watched Katarina tremble. Geta was of the same stipulation, she could tell, what with the way his eyes narrowed suspiciously into two slits on his face of chiseled, beautiful marble.
"Do you want this one to keep her tongue?" Geta whispered to her quietly while he twirled a lock of Caracalla’s hair, making sure to not let Katarina hear as he waited for their sister's approval or disapproval. He and his brother lived to please her and the thought of ever making her feel ill at ease had a headache already swelling behind his brow. They really shouldn't have ingested so much opium. They were starting to have their come down, right about now. Nerves set on edge, stomach turning with bouts of nausea and wanting nothing more than the comfort of their siblings warm in their arms as they drifted off to sleep together.
Only one obstacle remained.
"Categorically" she answered plainly, nuzzling into the sweet spot between where his neck and shoulder met and preening like one of the peacocks their brother kept as pets.
"The Gods have not received a sacrifice from us in some time.." Caracalla trailed off, not having the decency or decorum to keep quiet like his siblings. She laughed, the irony not lost on her. Their brother, who hadn't so much as stepped foot in a temple in years, telling them the Gods desired a soul.
Katarina's lips quivered, her hands clasping together in front of her heart as she dropped to her knees and landed on the floor with a thud. They all peered down at her one at a time, bored looks decorating three hauntingly beautiful faces. "I beseech you, Imperial Majesties. I beseech you..allow me live another day I beg of you" the girl continued to entreat, to daft or perhaps to struck with terror to notice Geta sauntering toward her.
"Tis' alright" he cooed, one hand tilting her face up and the other tucked tightly behind his back, bared steel gleaming in the moonlight. It was a sight that had Caracalla giggling with delight behind his hand. "We only jest, you see?" Her brother smiled toothlessly, unguarded, and Katarina's entire body slumped with solace.
That was her final mistake of the night, the swing of a blade singing its bloody ballad reverberating in the cubiculum. The sound of something slumping against the floor at Geta’s feet made her tense as their brother crawled back into bed, tossing the curved gladius onto the bedside table without a care in the world.
Tis’ was a shame indeed, that her brothers had not missed her ogling.
"She can keep her tongue" he sniffed, nose twitching at the smell of freshly forged iron.
Geta would not allow a slave of all people to put his brother and sister in danger. Their protector he was, had been and would be, now and ever.