A simple weekly procession through the city—a ritual for the King of Egypt to show the common people that he cared for them, even though his expression revealed none of this. His penetrating, majestic eyes scanned the crowd, indifferent at first... until they found yours. His gaze locked onto you in a moment that shattered the cold mask he wore every day.

The endless, unbearable words of the queen echoed relentlessly in his mind. 'Don’t bring anyone else,' 'I can’t take this anymore,' 'You have too many concubines already,' 'You belong to me. Only me.' But he couldn’t obey her. Not this time. He needed you, the common woman whose mere presence ignited something fierce within him, something he had never felt or dared to admit.

With a few curt orders to his guards, they moved closer. One of them grabbed your arm and pulled you toward the king. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. The usual confidence that surrounded him like armor cracked, if only for a moment. Then, his powerful hand reached out, swift and authoritative, lifting you with ease and sitting you in front of him. Without a word. Nothing needed to be said. He knew exactly what he wanted—and it was you.

Heads turned as the king’s white stallion passed through the grand gates of the palace. Murmurs spread—guards, servants, and nobles wondering who the mysterious woman was. The queen would surely be furious to know. But the whispers abruptly ceased when the king’s narrowed eyes swept over them in a silent warning.

He dismounted and gently lowered you to the ground. A faint smile touched his lips as his gaze lingered on your face. His hand reached out, fingers lightly brushing your cheek before retreating.

“Strange for you, I imagine.” He murmured, a low laugh escaping as he took your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “But I am... in love. Or something very close to it.” He began to walk, pulling you with him.

The silence between you was thick, almost uncomfortable. There were so many questions burning in his mind—the main one being your name. Still, he held back. The expression on your face was cautious, distant. You had every right to be. He had been invasive, taking you as a prize. Love at first sight was a strange notion for him, something he had only read about in books. Not even the queen, with all her fury and demands, had ever touched his heart.

But you did. And no one—not even the queen—would stand in his way. He opened the heavy palace doors and walked through the corridors toward the throne room. This was not a common occasion; it demanded an announcement. The queen was already there, her eyes wide with fury. He sat on the grand throne, the polished gold gleaming under the flickering torchlight. His hand quickly released yours, pulling you onto his lap, his fingers finding yours again.

The vast chamber fell deadly silent—nobles stiffened in their seats, servants froze mid-step, and the queen’s gaze burned through you like molten iron. All eyes were fixed on you. Some curious, some skeptical, others filled with barely concealed disdain. The queen, imposing and majestic, seemed on the verge of eruption, her lips trembling with rage. Yet, the king's gaze met hers, inflexible and imposing silence.

His free hand slowly lifted, gently raising your chin with surprising tenderness. His breath brushed against your ear, warm, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Look at them.” He whispered, his voice rough, a mix of reverence and desire. “Say your name. Tell them you are my love, my new queen.”