The Morning That Changed Everything
I entered her chamber at dawn, as I did every day. The sun's rays touched the stone walls, and an unusual silence filled the room. Cleopatra sat upon her bed, clutching a piece of white linen in her hands, her eyes wide with fear and confusion.
"Mehet," she whispered when she saw me.
I stepped closer and understood at once. On the linen was blood—not from a wound, not from accident. It was the blood of women—the sign that the child before me had become a woman.
I stood still, gazing at her. In her eyes mingled fear and uncertainty. She waited for me to explain.
My Words
"What has happened," I said at last, as calmly as I could, "is a gift of the gods. It is the moment when a girl ceases to be a girl and becomes a woman. From this day, you stand among them, Cleopatra. And that is right."
Her lips trembled. "So it is… good?"
"Yes," I nodded. "It is natural. Every woman before you has passed through this. It is the beginning of your new path."
Relief softened her shoulders, and a fragile smile touched her lips. Then she rose, came to me, and embraced me. Her head rested against my chest, and I felt her breath grow calm.
The Truth I Admitted
In that moment I knew something had changed. She was no longer only the princess for whom I played the flute and told stories. No longer the child who laughed when I carried her on my shoulders. Before me stood a woman.
And within my heart surfaced what I had long refused to name.
Love.
Not the passion a man might seek in a woman's embrace. Not desire for the body that was unfolding before my eyes. It was a deeper, stronger love—love for her soul, her laughter, her innocence, her awakening spirit. A love that surpassed rank and blood.
To know I could never possess her was painful. Yet more painful still was the thought of losing her. And so I accepted the truth: I may love her with all my heart, but I must never claim her.
The Vow
I stroked her hair and whispered softly: "Do not be afraid. From this day you are a woman, but I will remain what I have always been. I will be your shadow, your guide, your protector. I will never leave you."
She smiled, as though those words alone had banished all fear. She closed her eyes and clung to me still more tightly.
And I understood then that my fate was sealed. I love her. Not as a man loves his mistress, but as a soul loves another soul. And that is a love that is both the greatest gift and the heaviest burden.
The Pharaoh's Words
When the Pharaoh received me, he already knew. I did not need to speak; his eyes carried the answer. He sat in his private chamber, hands resting on the armrests heavy with rings, and when I entered, he slowly nodded.
"Amenemhet," he said in a quiet voice, "the day has come, has it not?"
I bowed. "Yes, my lord. Your daughter has entered among women."
A shadow crossed his face—not sorrow, not joy, but something between. He rose and walked to the window where the Nile shimmered in the distance.
"I remember when I first held her in my arms," he murmured. "I thought her fragile as a lotus, that the wind might carry her away. And now… she has grown. She has become a woman. Egypt will see her differently. And soon the time will come when I must decide her future."
He turned back to me. "I am glad it was you who was with her. No one else could have given her peace in such a moment. You have been her shadow, her guide. But now it is time for you to return to the duties that await you. Egypt needs you at the court, in building, in counsel, in healing. She will have handmaidens of her own to prepare her for her place among women."
I lowered my head. "I understand, my lord."
The Pharaoh came closer and laid his hand upon my shoulder. "Do not fear. I know you will always keep her in your heart. And she will visit you. She will not let you go. But now she must learn that she belongs to the world of women."
His touch was firm, his voice sincere. I felt relief, and yet a new weight upon my soul.
The Princess's Anger
When I told her, her eyes filled with fire at once.
"So… you will not be with me anymore?" she burst out.
"I will," I answered softly. "But not as before. From now on, women chosen by the Pharaoh will care for you. And I… will turn again to my duties at court."
She was silent a moment. Her chest rose and fell quickly, her gaze shifting from confusion to anger.
"That is not fair!" she cried. "You have always been with me! You are the only one who understands me! Why are you leaving me?"
"Leaving?" I repeated gently. "No, princess. I will still be here. Only not at every step, as before. You are a woman now. And women have their own attendants. That is the order of the world."
Her lips pressed tight, and her voice broke into fury: "If you abandon me, I will have you whipped! One more day—then I will do it!"
The Weight of Silence
Her words struck me, but I stayed silent. I knew she spoke in anger, that her heart did not yet understand what was happening. It was a cry of pain, not a true threat.
I bowed deeply. "You may punish me, princess. Even so, I will remain your shadow. And I will never leave you."
Her Apology
That evening, as I prepared to retire, she burst into my chamber. Her eyes were red with tears, her voice soft.
"Mehet," she whispered, "forgive me. I did not mean those words. I only… I am afraid of losing you."
I looked at her and smiled. "You will not lose me. Never. Even if the whole court were to send me far away, my heart would remain with you."
She embraced me tightly, and I felt that her anger and fear sprang from the same source—from love, though she did not yet know how to name it.