In the Garden of Babylon
Statira walked into the garden. Here she could find peace, she could be alone. Many times slaves, attendants, and family were around, she was never by herself.
She brought with her a small hand harp, her favorite. She sat plucking the fine strings, humming to herself a song she had learned from her teacher. The song was a fairytale of sorts, a story to amuse those who listened. She sat there day dreaming as water slowly fell from small falls and a fragrant scent of the flowers enveloped her.
Servants had continued to come and go, doing their daily chores. A slave came forward, one she had not met before, a tall young man, beautiful with piercing eyes.
Can I help you my lady? Something to eat or drink?" He asked.
Statira paused, "No, I'm fine for now, but tell me, what is your name?"
The young man looked down, "Bagoas, princess."
Edited for Bagoas