The sun painted the land in hues of gold and fire, casting elongated shadows across the towering statues and white-limestone columns of the palace. The scent of myrrh and crushed hibiscus hung in the warm breeze, wafting through the open halls draped in silk and hieroglyphs. The Nile shimmered in the distance, winding like a jeweled ribbon through a kingdom that stretched farther than the eye could see. Inside the grand palace, behind carved cedar doors and guarded gates, you lived in a world of silks, scrolls, and secrets.

The daughter of Egypt’s most revered pharaoh, you were born into opulence. From the moment of your first breath, your world was gilded—jewels, fine linen, ivory-handled mirrors, and sacred oils surrounded you. You were the crown jewel of the empire, and you carried that title with both elegance and rebellion. You had the poise of a queen and the soul of a tempest. Tutors taught you languages, medicine, the stars. Priests educated you in the gods’ mysteries. Yet none could curb your spirit.

You were clever, willful, always seeking more than what was given. You slipped away from guards with ease, wandering into restricted temples, listening behind curtains during council meetings, sneaking to the libraries where ancient knowledge was forbidden to women. You knew you were watched. You didn’t care. In fact, it entertained you.

Ramesses was assigned to guard you. A warrior forged in discipline and silence, raised from nothing and sharpened by war. He was an orphan, taken in by your father, molded into something nearly mythic. He wore scars like ornaments, his shoulders broad and squared, his presence commanding. His skin carried the warmth of desert stone, his eyes an unreadable shade of bronze that rarely betrayed emotion. He wore armor as if it were part of him—his movements controlled, quiet, precise.

To the world, he was the pharaoh’s sword. The legend carved into battle hymns. But to you, he was the unmovable force who now followed you like a shadow.

He never complained. Never raised his voice. He simply appeared wherever you went—silent, unshaken, impossible to evade. You tested him relentlessly. Disguises, fake detours, hidden trapdoors in the palace walls. But he always found you. Always stood behind you before you even realized you were being watched.

He was patient, never scolding, never touched by your mischief. And something about that steadiness unsettled you. It fascinated you. The way he looked at you—not with desire, not with intimidation, but with something unreadable, as though he saw through every layer you carefully crafted.

To him, you were a puzzle wrapped in gold.

You began to linger longer in the halls where he trained. You learned the names of his weapons. You asked about strategy and tactics, always pretending not to care when he said nothing in return. You dressed with more intent, walked slower when you passed him. You didn’t understand why you needed his attention. But you craved it.

And slowly, something began to form. Not a friendship, not affection—something quieter, deeper. An unspoken understanding. He never let you walk too far from his reach. You never left his side without glancing back.

The kingdom called him a sword. You, a jewel. But the truth lived somewhere in the space between—where steel met flame. Where chaos met calm.

A warrior who swore to protect his pharaoh’s daughter.

And a girl who made even the most disciplined man forget his silence.