Bound by Secrets

"General, don't you find it strange how the Pharaoh left so quickly after we arrived?" Hassan whispered to General Horus, who was absorbed in reading a report from one of his soldiers.

The General sighed, flipping to another papyrus. "I have no more insight than you do into His Majesty's thoughts, Hassan."

Hassan chewed idly on the end of a blade of grass, his hands clasped behind his head. "It's just odd, don't you think? He rushed us here in two days when it should've taken at least six—especially with half the army in tow. You'd think we were marching to war."

"Hmm." General Horus ignored him, his eyes still scanning the report.

"Hey, I wonder if this has something to do with that woman—what was her name again? Kila? Kaja?"

The General let out an exasperated sigh. "Lady Kiya," he corrected, casting Hassan an annoyed glance. "You should really start remembering the names of nobles and their families, or you'll meet your end sooner than you think."

"I'm just saying! He's avoided her for so long, only slept with her a handful of times, and now—suddenly—he's all worked up after one night? Maybe he finally fell for her!" Hassan's grin was wide, his voice brimming with excitement. The thought of the Pharaoh with a wife who could soften his cold, brooding nature amused him greatly.

A sharp smack landed on the back of his head, courtesy of the General's papyrus.

"Don't waste your thoughts on nonsense, Hassan," Horus chided. "His Majesty would never see Lady Kiya that way. His heart has belonged to someone else for as long as I can remember."

Hassan perked up. "Oh? Who is it?"

"That's not for me to say," Horus muttered, his expression darkening. His grip on the papyrus tightened as he gazed into the distance, his voice dropping to a grave whisper. "But I'll tell you this—whoever she is, this nameless, faceless woman will be the ultimate ruin of His Majesty."

Silence hung between them as the General drifted into memory, back to the days when he and the Pharaoh were just boys, bound by duty, loyalty… and secrets.

The night had settled over Egypt, the palace illuminated only by the soft flicker of torchlight. Nine-year-old Horus sat in the study chambers, hunched over a papyrus scroll, his fingers smudged with ink as he meticulously copied passages of war strategies. His tutors often praised his discipline—his ability to focus for hours on end without distraction. Among his peers, he was known for his sharp mind and cool-headed nature, earning him the reputation of being distant, even cold.

Unlike him, however, the future king was an entirely different force.

Where Horus exuded quiet diligence, the young prince—destined to rule all of Egypt—moved like an untamed storm. He was easygoing when he wanted to be, yet he possessed a lethal edge that made even the most seasoned warriors hesitate under his gaze.

Flirtatious, charming, and always carrying himself with an effortless confidence, the boy who would be Pharaoh had an intensity that no one could quite match.

Horus had seen it firsthand—the power in those golden eyes. Like a great lion surveying his kingdom, the prince's mere glance could send children scampering and even make grown men falter. His beauty and his menace were two sides of the same coin.

And yet, there was one thing that unsettled even the future Pharaoh.

A name, a whisper—someone who remained a mystery.

Despite his sharp mind and disciplined nature, there was one thing Horus could never quite understand—his future king, the boy he admired more than anyone, was plagued by nightmares.

It had been happening for a while now.

At first, Horus thought nothing of it. Even the strongest warriors had fears as children. But this was different.

Many nights, long after the palace had fallen into silence, Horus would hear the prince stirring in his chambers, gasping for breath as if he had just emerged from drowning waters. The servants whispered about it—how the young heir to the throne would wake drenched in sweat, his golden eyes wide with something unspoken.

Tonight was no different.

Horus had been deep in his studies when he heard it again—the restless shifting, the muffled sound of hurried breaths through the thin stone walls that separated their rooms. He hesitated for only a moment before setting down his papyrus and slipping quietly into the corridor.

The halls were dark, save for the dim glow of oil lamps burning low. Horus moved swiftly, his bare feet soundless against the cold stone floor. He didn't bother knocking when he reached the prince's chambers. He pushed the door open just enough to step inside.

The sight that met him was not unfamiliar.

The prince stood near the window, his back turned to the door. His breathing was uneven, his hands clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles had turned white. The moonlight cast a silver sheen over his sweat-dampened skin, his usually composed figure now visibly tense.

Horus took a cautious step forward. "Your Highness?"

The prince didn't answer right away. He ran a hand through his dark, tousled hair before exhaling shakily.

"They won't stop," he muttered.

Horus furrowed his brows. "The nightmares?"

The prince let out a bitter laugh, though there was no humor in it. "It's always the same," he said, his voice hollow. "I see her. I don't know who she is, but I know she's real."

Horus said nothing. This was not something he could solve with strategy or logic.

The prince turned his gaze back toward the window, staring beyond the palace walls into the vast darkness of Egypt's sleeping capital. His golden eyes flickered like candlelight—distant, haunted.

"She's waiting for me," he murmured. "And one day… I'll find her."

Horus swallowed, unsure of what unsettled him more—the fact that his future king was plagued by visions of an unknown woman… or the eerie certainty in his voice, as if his fate had already been sealed.