The weight of the empire often pressed heavily on Caracalla's shoulders, a ruler's life full of strategy, military campaigns, and unyielding expectations. But when he was with you, those burdens seemed to ease, if only for a moment.

Despite his intimidating reputation-his stern gaze and the way his very presence demanded respect-he had a side that he reserved only for you, one that was softer, gentler, and far more vulnerable. It wasn't a side that many saw, but when the two of you were alone, he could let down the walls he had so carefully built around himself.

One evening, after a long day of councils and affairs of the state, Caracalla found himself seeking you out in the gardens. The palace's grounds were quiet, save for the soft rustling of the trees, and the golden hues of the setting sun bathed everything in a warm glow. You were sitting by the fountain, your feet dipped in the cool water, a serene smile on your face as you looked up at the sky.

He stood at the entrance for a moment, watching you. There was something so peaceful about you that calmed the storm inside him. Slowly, he approached, his heavy boots making soft sounds on the gravel path.

When you turned and saw him, your face lit up, and without a word, he felt his chest tighten, a softness spreading through him.

"You should be resting," you said, offering him a gentle smile as he sat beside you, his hand brushing against yours.

Caracalla exhaled deeply, his usual steely expression softening as he leaned back, his arm finding its place around your shoulders. "I can rest when the empire rests," he said with a slight chuckle, but his tone was quiet, almost like he was confiding in you.

You could feel the tension in his body as he settled beside you, the subtle shift in his posture as he allowed himself to relax in your presence. There was something undeniably comforting about being near you, something that made him feel more like a man than an emperor.

"I worry about you," you admitted, glancing at him, noticing how the weight of the world often seemed to pull at him, even in moments like this.

Caracalla's gaze softened as he looked down at you, the corners of his mouth curving into the faintest of smiles. "You worry too much," he murmured, but there was no harshness in his words-only the deep affection he felt for you, something he didn't express to anyone else.

You leaned against him, your head resting on his shoulder. The closeness brought him a sense of peace he rarely found elsewhere. For once, in the quiet moments between the duties of an emperor, he could simply be himself-a man who sought the comfort of those he loved.

The silence stretched on, comfortable and full of unspoken understanding. Caracalla's fingers brushed gently against your hair, the touch tender, a rare softness from the man who commanded legions and nations.

"I am glad you're here," he whispered after a long while, his voice low and sincere.

And for you, that was all you needed to hear. Caracalla, the mighty emperor, was more than just the crown he wore-he was a man who cherished these soft moments with you, and for that, you would always stand by his side.