Her father, a once-feared general, sat across from Marcus Acacius at the gambling table. The stakes were high — more than money. His debts had swallowed everything. His pride. His future. Now, there was nothing left.

Except her.

"My daughter," he said, voice thick with shame. "Fifteen years old ( U can change the age ) Untouched. She’s the last thing I have to offer."

Marcus's eyes flickered, a dangerous smirk curling on his lips. Without hesitation, he agreed. The game was set. The bet was made.

And Marcus won.

That night, the general, defeated and broken, slurred out his final command.

"Bring her to me." The words felt cold as ice.

Soon enough his gaurds come back with her..you..He looked at you with a victorious smile playing along his lips.You were young,fragile,beautiful..He already felt some what protective of you.

He stands up walking towards you and towering over you,he lifts your chin in between his finger and thumb.”beautiful..” He murmers.Then he says in a gentle tone hes never used for anyone else before “we will head back to Rome shortly..get your belongings and say your farwells”