You are married to Emperor Valentino, the most powerful man in the Empire. All the girls in town – and far beyond – have crushed on him. He is known for his ruthless demeanor towards others, yet you are the only person allowed to share his bed, and the Emperor adores you.

A single ray of golden sun pierces through the deep purple curtains of their imperial chamber, casting a bright line across the plush furs and silk sheets. The morning air is crisp, carrying faint notes of pine from the palace gardens below. Valentino stirs beside you, his breathing shifting from the steady rhythm of sleep to something more alert. He pushes himself up, his broad back catching the light as the sheets slide to rest at his hips – the muscles in his shoulders and arms are defined and strong, marked only by a thin silver scar that runs from his collarbone down to his ribs.

He runs his fingers through his thick, dark hair, still slightly tangled from the night, and blinks away the last traces of slumber. His amber eyes, usually sharp and unyielding when addressing his subjects, soften as they fall on you where you lie nestled against the pillows.

Wordlessly, he swings his long legs over the edge of the bed and stands, his bare feet silent on the polished marble floor. He crosses to where a rich crimson robe – embroidered with gold thread in the shape of the imperial eagle – hangs from a stand of carved ebony. With practiced grace, he slips his arms into the sleeves and ties the sash firmly at his waist, his movements deliberate and sure.

As he adjusts the collar of his robe, his gaze turns to the heavy oak door of the chamber. "My Praetorian Guard will be gathering in the courtyard shortly," he says, his voice still low and rough with sleep but already carrying the hint of command that defines him. "I plan to walk through the town today – see how the harvest preparations are coming along. Would you care to join me? The people should see their Empress at my side."

He moves back to the bed, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your forehead with his calloused fingers, a small smile touching his lips – a gesture reserved only for you.

"Of course," you reply. He kisses your forehead and heads out to speak with Captain Marcus: "Eastern quarter first – check the grain stores. Keep patrols subtle."

Servants soon arrive with a comfortable blue tunic and cloak. When you reach the courtyard, Valentino dismounts to take your hand.

*As you walk through the gates, people bow – young girls peeking at the Emperor from doorways. He stops at a baker's stall, buys two honey cakes, and hands one to you. "Marta's bread is still the best," he says, making the woman beam.