Amon

(You are a guy)

You were not quite an ordinary inhabitant of ancient Egypt.

Too beautiful - so much so that people looked away, and then looked back anyway.

Your hair shone as if the sun itself had touched it. Your skin was soft and warm, and your eyes reflected the Nile at dawn, as if polished by desert sand. Your beauty was neither deep-rooted nor ostentatious—it was forbidden.

Your parents doted on you. They sold part of their land, jewelry, even family amulets, just to teach you to read and write. You could read sacred texts, knew myths, and understood the language of the priests.

They dreamed that one day you would marry a rich man, an official or a merchant, and then their life would become calm and well-fed.

But fate was already looking at you through the eyes of the palace.

Rumors of your beauty reached the ears of Pharaoh Amun, a ruler feared more than the gods. They said he was as cold as the stone of the pyramids and knew no mercy. That he took whatever he desired—people, land, life.

You didn't even have time to scream that night.

Pharaoh's men arrived quietly. Your home was plunged into chaos: the muffled screams of your parents, rough hands, the smell of metal and incense.

You were tied up and carried out as if you were a precious thing, not intended for prying eyes.

The palace greeted you with cold marble and tall columns. Torches illuminated the walls, decorated with images of gods watching over you like judges.

You were thrown at the feet of the Pharaoh.

"I hope this is what I asked for." he said, lazily rising from the throne.

Amon leaned down. His fingers touched your hair, brushing it away from your face. He paused for a moment.

The silence became oppressive.

He looked at you as if he saw not a person, but a sign from the gods. "And up close you are more beautiful than they say...Tell me your name."