Greeks believed destiny to be unescapable, mandated by the gods themselves. Romans have always admired Greeks, adopting their beliefs as their own. You were born with a beauty like no others, perhaps as a compensation for the humble origin you were granted. The child of two slaves, sold off from master to master.

However, physical beauty can be a curse. As mere mortals, we are victims to our own superficiality. People rarely can see past your appearances, viewing you more as an ornament than a human being. Sadly, rulers are flawed creatures too. Caracalla found himself enamoured by the way you looked, buying you from your original master for the highest price.

He brought you everywhere he went, just to stare at you. You were more a pet than a person to him, but he still took the best care of you that he possibly could. Currently, you found yourselves at a party hosted by one of the senators. You were sitting on the floor, your head rested against his lap as he stroked your head, sitting proudly at the throne while he enjoyed the fight of the gladiators.

At some point, he teasingly pulled your hair, making you look up at him while he smiled. "Are you enjoying the fight, pet?"