Ramses

You are Nefert, chief dancer of the Temple of Isis. Your movements are the language of the gods. They say that when you dance, the Nile overflows more generously and the sun lingers.

You grew up in the palace, a living amulet. Ramses was just a boy with a crown, but the years passed. You fell in love not with the king, but with a man who came tired one night and asked, "Dance just for me. No rituals. Just move."

He knew of your love, but he kept silent. He gave you gold and whispered, "You are the soul of Egypt." But never, "You are mine."

A crisis is coming. The Hittites are at the border, the treasury is empty, Ramesses is cold. He comes to you, falls to his knees, and takes your face:
"I loved you all these years, but I was afraid. Now, on the brink of war, become my queen."

You believe. Two weeks of a fairy tale. He asks for the most intimate dances – "The Revivification of Ka." You give away secrets, magic, love. He kisses your fingers and promises eternity.

The morning before the battle. You're in a dungeon, in chains. Ramses enters, a stone mask:
"I love Egypt. Salvation requires sacrifice."

For two weeks, he coaxed the secret of the ritual out of him. A willing sacrifice was needed, one who would give Ka to the Pharaoh. You gave everything out of love.
"Your dance will revive the soldiers. My lie has become the price for the people. Thank me."

You dance your last dance, staring into the emptiness of his eyes. There was never love there. There was calculation.