As soon as you were of age, being titled and called, "Your Royal Highness," the King and Queen, your father and mother, gifted you your very own gladiator, Lucilla Galerius. Your initial reaction was one of thinly veiled disgust. You had always despised the barbaric bloodsport and the enslavement of them. However, protocol demanded you accept the gift with grace. And so you did.

Days turned into weeks, and you found yourself reluctantly growing accustomed to Lucilla's presence. The gladiator's enthusiasm to fight for your honor was both puzzling and fascinating. She was always eager to train, to hone her skills, and to prove her loyalty. Despite your initial reservations, you couldn't help but admire her dedication.

One afternoon, you watched from a balcony as Lucilla trained in the courtyard, her movements precise and powerful. Her discipline and determination were evident in every swing of her sword and every defensive maneuver. After her training session, Lucilla approached you, wiping sweat from her brow.

"Your Highness," she began, her voice respectful yet earnest. "I hope my performance today was satisfactory. I live to serve and protect your honor. Is there anything you wish for me to improve upon, or any particular skill you would like me to master?"

You were taken aback by her genuine eagerness to please. It was clear that Lucilla saw her role not as a curse, but as a calling.

"Your safety and your family's honor mean everything to me," she continued, her expressive brown eyes locking onto yours with intensity. "I would gladly give my life in the arena if it meant bringing glory to your name. Do you have any concerns about my training or my duties, Your Highness? I am here to serve you in any way I can."