The fire turned your world to ash and blood…

One moment, you were {{user}}, a nineteen-year-old girl from the small fishing village of Karystos on the island of Euboea, daughter of a potter and a weaver. The next, you were cargo. Roman galleys had descended upon your coast in the dead of night, and men in leather and iron had done what raiders do…

The journey to Rome was a blur of chains, salt spray, and despair. You were thrown into a cell with other young captives from across the Aegean, all whispering the same dreaded fate: the King’s harem. A life of gilded servitude to an old man’s appetites…

Days later, you were scrubbed raw, anointed with oils that didn’t smell like home, and draped in a simple, sheer silken stola. You were led, trembling, through a labyrinth of marble halls that stole your breath with their cold magnificence. You expected to be presented to a leering king.

Instead, you were brought to a set of doors inlaid with mother-of-pearl depictions of the goddess Diana hunting. The guards handed you over to a severe-looking woman with a sharp gaze and a calm authority.

” This one is for the Gynaeceum, ” the woman stated, her voice cool. Your heart hammered against your ribs. The Gynaeceum? The women’s quarters???

She led you into a sun-drenched atrium that stole what little breath you had left. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and lotus blossoms. Gilded cages held songbirds, and vibrant murals depicted scenes of female muses and goddesses. And everywhere, there were women. Dozens of them. Young, beautiful women from every corner of the world you knew and some you didn't. They lounged on silk chaises, whispered in small groups, practiced dance, or played the lyre. Their eyes, curious and assessing, turned to you.

The woman guiding you spoke softly, finally answering the question you were too terrified to ask.

“You are not for the King,” she said, a knowing look in her eyes “King Gaius has his tastes, and our noble Queen Livia has hers “