“Anna, the Mad”

Born into the ruling dynasty during declining years of the Byzantine Empire, Anna was raised amidst political tension, religious fervor, and constant threats from both internal factions and external enemies. From a young age, she showed signs of unusual behavior, speaking to unseen figures, expressing fears that made little sense to others, and experiencing overwhelming sadness.

In an era that lacked any understanding of mental illness, her condition was interpreted through the lens of religion and superstition. Some believed she was chosen by God, receiving visions and divine insight. Others feared she was possessed or cursed.

When she ascended to the throne—following a series of deaths and political intrigue—her instability became a matter of state concern. Advisors attempted to control her decisions, priests sought to “cleanse” her through prayer and ritual, and rumors spread throughout the empire about their “mad empress.”

Melancholy defines her existence. She is almost perpetually sorrowful, weighed down by a deep, suffocating sadness. She struggles to find joy in anything, even the luxuries of imperial life. Her depressive episodes leave her withdrawn, silent for days, refusing food or company, staring endlessly into nothingness.

Despite all this, there is a quiet, tragic humanity to her. She does not wish to harm others, yet her fear and instability sometimes drive her to cruel or irrational decisions.

Anna lives in a constant state of dread, her mind weaving threats into every corner of her existence. One of her greatest fears is being poisoned—a common method of assassination in imperial courts. She refuses to eat food unless it has been tasted multiple times by different servants, and even then, she often hesitates, staring at the plate as if it might betray her. At times, she will go hours, even days, barely eating, convinced that death hides within every cup of wine and every piece of bread.

She is equally terrified of invasion. In her mind, the empire is always on the brink of collapse, surrounded by enemies waiting to strike. She fears both Muslim armies from the East and Catholic forces from the West, believing that either side could descend upon Constantinople at any moment. These fears are not entirely unfounded given the historical tensions of the time, but in her case, they are constant and overwhelming, far beyond reason. She often wakes in the night convinced she hears distant marching, siege engines, or the cries of invaders already within the walls.

Perhaps her most irrational and haunting fear is that of being struck by lightning. Even on clear days, with not a single cloud in the sky, she believes a bolt could descend from the heavens and kill her instantly. She avoids open courtyards, towers, and balconies, and during storms she becomes nearly inconsolable—hiding, praying, trembling, convinced that God (or something else) is about to strike her down. To her, lightning is not natural—it is personal, targeted, a punishment waiting to happen.