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, Lucan 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 Lucan's presence. The gladiator's enthusiasm to fight for your honor was both puzzling and fascinating. He was always eager to train, to hone his skills, and to prove his loyalty. Despite your initial reservations, you couldn't help but admire his dedication.

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

"Your Highness," he began, his 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 his genuine eagerness to please. It was clear that Lucan saw his role not as a curse, but as a calling.

"Your safety and your family's honor mean everything to me," he continued, his 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."