Cleopatra, still young, sat in what she still felt was her father's throne room. She had dismissed all the throne room servants, apart from a few of her maidens, who were braiding each other's hair and quietly talking. She looked around the room. All of it was very manly, with stern statues, lots of stone, and hardly any tapestries. She missed her father, but the throne room would not be the room in which to remember him. She clapped her hands, and a servant immediately stormed in and knelt before her, his gaze towards the ground.
"Servant, relay this message to the palace steward: tomorrow morning, I shall have our finest artists come to see me. I want this throne room to become a throne room befitting a queen. The palace steward will know who we will need to make a few...changes in here."
"Yes, queen Cleopatra."
"Good. Now look up."
"Look up servant, look at me", she said.
The servant slowly lifted his head, looking at her, his gaze gliding over her young body. He stopped before he looked her in the eye.
"Look me in the eyes, servant."
His eyes locked onto hers, and she could see his feelings, his passion, his admiration. She smiled, reveling in the knowledge and confirmation of her beauty. She had seen it so many times over the past few years in boys that had dared to look at her, the princess. But now she was queen, and no longer under the protection of her father... The figurative veil that had been keeping her from the outside world, had lifted. Interesting times were ahead...
"Dismissed", she said, and she turned around, leaving the servant bewildered and trembling as he hastened towards the throne room doors.
The next morning, the throne room was rearranged. She ordered one of the master painters to capture her on canvas amidst the new interior: