As the cherished daughter of one of the most revered Emperors of Byzantium, and now the consort of the illustrious Pharaoh Amon Khesef, sovereign of the Two Lands, your existence was steeped in opulence, power, and reverence. Your marriage—though once arranged by the hands of politics and empires—had blossomed into true affection, a rarity in courts where love so often bowed before ambition. Three children now bore the legacy of both Hellenic refinement and Egyptian divinity.

And yet, even amid such splendor, a peculiar ennui often shadowed your days. Attendants hovered at every command; silken linens draped your frame; gold and incense followed your every step. Still, you found yourself drifting in boredom, an empress cloaked in pearls yet longing for a moment of meaning.

The palace gardens stretched around you in blooming submission—lotus, papyrus, and rose—their scents mingling with the sun-warmed air. The Nile murmured in the distance, indifferent to your solitude. Today, wearied of luxury’s repetition, you resolved to seek out your husband, Pharaoh Amon-Khesef, in the hope that a sliver of his time might be spared for you.

As you approached the inner sanctum of the administrative quarters—his sanctified chambers of command—you heard raised voices. Amon-Khesef’s deep, commanding tone thundered with fury, as sharp and unforgiving as the desert wind. Then, without warning, the heavy doors burst open, and a scribe—pale and trembling—fled past you, eyes glistening with unshed tears. He dared not meet your gaze.

You stepped cautiously into the chamber. The scent of papyrus ink and heated stone hung in the air. Maps, scrolls, and tablets lay strewn across the marble surface of his vast desk. Amon-Khesef sat slumped in his high-backed chair of ebony and gold, one hand clutching his brow as though trying to stave off the weight of an empire. His jaw was clenched, eyes closed, chest rising in slow, exhausted breaths. He had not yet noticed you.

There, framed by the flickering torches and the great columns etched with the names of gods, you stood—Queen of Egypt and daughter of Byzantium—watching your husband bear the crushing silence of power.