The palace was still. The hush of midnight cloaked the ancient walls in shadows, disturbed only by the soft rustle of palm leaves in the breeze and the distant call of a night heron gliding over the Nile. Thutmose stood in the upper balcony of his private chamber, his hands gripping the cold stone railing as he stared out over the river's silver ribbon winding beneath the stars.
He had returned to Thebes just hours ago, slipping through the gates under the cover of darkness. Not as a prince returning in triumph, but as a man seeking solitude, wearied by war and the silence it left behind. And yet, fate had delivered something wholly unexpected into his hands.
Naiya.
That name. He didn't even know if it was her true name, but it echoed inside him like a forgotten melody.
He had known countless women—daughters of noble houses, priestesses veiled in incense and song, even queens from foreign lands who'd offered themselves as tokens of alliance. And yet… not one of them had struck him speechless beneath the stars.
Not one had made time stop.
Not one had looked at him and seen just a man—without title, without armor, without expectation.
She hadn't even known who he was.
That realization gripped him now. She didn't bow. She didn't address him as "Your Highness." She hadn't asked for favors, or glory, or protection. She had simply sat by the Nile, alone with her thoughts, and let him sit beside her like a man trying to remember how to breathe.
He closed his eyes. The memory of her voice—soft, a little weary, but full of grace—lingered like the scent of lotus blossoms on the wind.
He hadn't meant to go to the riverbanks. The pull had been instinctual, a desire to find stillness after months of battle. But the moment he saw her, that stillness shattered into something altogether more dangerous: curiosity… longing… recognition.
How could he recognize someone he had never met?
He was still wrestling with that question when the door to his chamber creaked open. A trusted voice followed.
"You're back."
Thutmose turned to see his closest confidant and advisor, General Djet, step into the room. The older man carried a scroll under one arm and wore a knowing expression.
"I slipped in late," Thutmose said quietly. "Didn't want a parade."
Djet gave a small smile. "There will be time for that. For now, the council can sleep without knowing Egypt's lion has returned."
Thutmose smirked faintly but turned back to the river. "Djet… do you believe in fate?"
The general stilled. That was not the question he had expected.
"Fate?" he echoed. "I believe we make our own. Why?"
Thutmose's gaze remained on the stars. "Tonight… I met someone. A woman. She was sitting alone by the Nile. She didn't know me. Didn't care to know. But I felt—" He stopped, the words strange on his tongue. "I felt like I had known her before. Somewhere… somehow."
Djet crossed his arms, watching him closely. "Is she from the palace?"
"No. Adopted into Lord Menkara's household. A foreigner. They call her Naiya."
Djet's brow furrowed. "The one who arrived from the desert moons ago? They say she was found half-dead, no memory of who she was."
Thutmose turned sharply. "No memory?"
Djet nodded. "That's the tale, at least. Some whisper she's a gift from the gods. Others think she's cursed. Either way, she's stirred the nobility. Menkara shields her fiercely."
Thutmose felt a strange chill crawl down his spine. No memory. A name like a whisper. A face that felt like home.
"What do you know of her?" he asked, more urgently than he intended.
"Very little," Djet said, eyes narrowing slightly. "But if she's touched you like this, you must tread carefully. You're the heir. Your path is not your own."
Thutmose turned away, jaw tight. "I tire of hearing that. That my heart is not mine. That my will must bend to duty."
"That is the price of the crown," Djet said gently. "You do not have the luxury of reckless affection."
"She is not a reckless affection," Thutmose said, his voice low. "She is… something I don't understand. Something I feel. And I am not a man given to feeling."
Silence fell between them. The stars above blinked like silent witnesses.
After a moment, Djet placed the scroll on the table and bowed his head. "Then understand her. Quietly. Watch from afar. But do not let your heart blind you before you know who—what—she truly is."
Thutmose nodded slowly, never looking away from the Nile.
He knew Djet was right. But something had shifted tonight. Something that refused to be ignored. A thread had been pulled, and he knew, with every instinct honed in battle, that it would unravel everything he thought he knew about his fate.
He would see her again. He didn't know how. Or when. But the stars above—the same stars that had watched over his ancestors—seemed to whisper one truth:
She was not a coincidence.
She was a beginning.