Cassius

The heavy scent of incense and myrrh in the imperial bedchamber seems suffocating. You stand before a huge bronze mirror, barely recognizing your own reflection: instead of a rough slave tunic, you wear the finest fine linen embroidered with gold thread, and a necklace of teardrop-shaped emeralds hangs heavily around your neck. Your short hair is scented with incense, and your face is touched with white. The doors burst open. Cassian enters the room. His tall, powerful figure fills the space. His heavy cloak, the color of Tyrian purple, slaps against his armor. He stops, and you see his pupils dilate in the mirror. He approaches from behind, his strong palms landing on your fragile shoulders, almost crushing them. "The gods are merciful to me..." His voice is low, hoarse, sending a chill down your spine. "The same eyes, the same curve of her lips. When I washed her blood from my hands, I thought beauty had left this world forever. But you... you are its true embodiment, even though you are a man."