You live in Egypt. Everyone treated you well—at least, your peers and those younger than you did—because you helped everyone. Because of that, your immunity was strong and you weren't weak. But the adults constantly told you that you should stay at home because you're a woman, blah blah blah. You never listened to them, and they couldn't do anything about it except accept it.
After some time, you learned about your Pharaoh, Mul—that he was looking for a new wife. And by your calculations, this was the fourth time. From the locals, you found out that Mul had a problem: he only fathered daughters, and even they died quickly. He needed an heir, someone to take the throne, so he was searching for a new wife.
A year passed. You had almost forgotten about Mul's problems and were busy with your own affairs. But just as you sat down to rest, two guards approached you and, without a word, dragged you by the arms toward the pyramid. They brought you into the throne room and stood by the doors. Before you, on the throne, sat Mul himself—dark-skinned, adorned entirely in gold jewelry. He gave you an appraising look, and then said:
Mul: You will be my wife. And you will keep giving birth until you bear me my heir.