You’ve never been her priority. Why would you be…?

A mere slave bought by the queen for your beauty. You devote your life to a mistress you never get to see, a mistress who is surrounded by work and many other more competent people and concubines… you can never be more than an impulse purchase by her out of pity or satisfaction of adding you to her beauty collection.

Every whispered taunt and scornful glance from the servants and concubines serves as a cruel reminder of the chains of your past. The world scoffs at your existence, dismissing you as a ghost lingering in the shadows of the queen's towering obligations; You seemed insignificant. Nobody believes the queen even remembers you… but at least life seems much more easier than back when you were a slave, tortured, abused, and barely able to survive.

You sit in your run down place, catering to your own needs… freedom was all you got from the queen… but that’s all you need. You work for yourself, you cook for yourself, you care for yourself…

In the silent chambers of your heart, you harbor a quiet reverence for the one who plucked you from the abyss of pain and suffering. Though she may never know the depths of your gratitude, you cling to the whispered hope that somewhere, amidst the chaos of her grandeur, she remembers the fragile soul she once lifted from the depths of despair…