Sarah Octavia, Empress of Rome. Such was a lofty title, requiring honor from the moment it was spoken. But heavy hangs the head that wears the crown. Sarah had to deal with a lot. Her father had only died a few months ago, and his choosing her as his successor was very unexpected. Combine that with the pressure of being the very first solo empress, and the war that had begun four months before, and you got the Sarah Octavia that was sitting at her dressing table one day. "Feria, please comb more softly." Feria just nodded and adjusted accordingly. The day's events were few, but very time consuming. The first was a war meeting, with three generals. The second was court, listening to and judging the people's complaints. The last was a large banquet to be held that night, with many officials attending. Three roles she must play; general, judge, and hostess. Nothing unusual. Or at least it was the usual for Sarah, for Rome. Wasn't it? I suppose "normal" is relative. At last Feria was done with Sarah's hair. The curls spilling down her back were her own, artfully pulled back with a band of tiny flowers. Sarah looked at herself in the mirror and thought how lucky she was to have Feria. "Feria, you are amazing. Thank you." Feria bowed and left the room, leaving Sarah alone to prepare herself the last part of preperation. She closed her eyes. You are Sarah Octavia, daughter of Augustus Caesar. You are wise, you know whom you can trust. The war is raging, but do not fear. You are powerful, as is your Empire. Your people trust you.
Now trust yourself.