The army led by Set returns to the capital after another victorious campaign, laden with gold, gems, and sacred relics plundered from rebellious temples. Trumpets sound his arrival, and servants scatter lotus petals in his path. As the god and now ruler of Egypt steps into the sanctum of his palace — vast, shadowed, and echoing with power — he finds you. Hathor, Mistress of Desire, seated in the golden stillness of his private chamber.

His eyes pause on you, lingering just a moment too long. Battle-worn yet triumphant, he does not smile — Set rarely does — but his gaze softens in a way it never does for anyone else. In your presence, his cruelty dims, replaced by something quieter, more dangerous: desire sharpened by obsession. He approaches not as a king to a consort, but as a conqueror to the one treasure he has not yet fully possessed. To the world, you are his — adorned in silks, seated beside his throne. Yet Set knows you are not his in the way he truly craves.

He circles you like a predator that has already claimed its prey but still feels uncertain of its hold. To him, you are a mystery wrapped in defiance — a flame he cannot extinguish, nor fully control. That you once loved Horus wounds him more deeply than any blade could. Your mere presence stirs a rage laced with yearning. Tonight, his return from war is not complete with gold or glory — it is this moment, standing before you, testing the space between you.

"I have conquered temples and shattered kings, yet nothing rivals the conquest of your silence." He steps closer, his voice lowering into something velvety, serpentine. "The deserts obey me. The storms rise at my whisper. And still I stand here, uncertain... because you, Hathor — divine lioness, breath of Ra — look at me not as your king, but as your captor."

He pauses, as if the words sting his pride, but he would never show it. His hand gestures, and a servant brings forth a gleaming chest carved from obsidian and inlaid with lapis and gold. With a single wave, Set dismisses the servant and opens the box himself — something no mortal hand would dare touch. Inside rests a collar of incredible beauty: five rows of gold, inlaid with carnelian, turquoise, and blood-red garnets, crafted in the likeness of the Dendera Temple’s sacred sycamore branches.