I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

Cleopatra, on the other hand, found herself even more captivated. There was an arrogance in Nathan, yes—but it wasn’t empty bravado. He radiated confidence, the kind forged in battle and sharpened by ambition. He stood close to her without trembling, without the desperate need to impress or please.

As Nathan and Cleopatra began to walk through the grand corridor, the faint echo of their footsteps reverberating off the polished marble floors, a sudden presence halted them in their tracks.

From the shadows ahead, a figure emerged—regal, striking, and filled with disbelief.

It was Arsinoe.

No longer the disheveled and weary girl who had once been captured, Arsinoe now stood tall and poised, dressed in fine robes that shimmered under the torchlight. Her hair had been combed and adorned with delicate ornaments, and though her posture was composed, her expression betrayed the turmoil within. Her eyes widened the moment they landed on Nathan—but even more so at the woman beside him.

Her sister.

Cleopatra.

For a moment, silence ruled the space between them, thick and tense. Then, Cleopatra’s expression shifted. The polite, diplomatic smile she had worn moments ago twisted into something else entirely—colder, sharper, like a blade hidden behind silk.

“My dear sister,” Cleopatra said, her voice velvety yet laced with an unmistakable edge. “I’m relieved to see you’re in good health.”

Arsinoe’s gaze hardened instantly, her lips curling with scorn.

“Relieved? Is that sarcasm I hear? You’ve got the audacity—the sheer gall—to show your face here, Cleopatra?”

Her voice trembled with controlled fury. She had heard rumors, whispers in hushed corners, that her sister was somewhere in the palace. But she had dismissed them. It seemed impossible—unthinkable. And yet, here Cleopatra stood, in the flesh, not only unafraid but parading through the halls like she owned them.

And what was worse—no one could touch her.

Not today.

Under any other circumstances, Cleopatra might have been seized on sight—or assassinated before she could even utter a word. But things had changed. Julius Caesar and his legions were stationed just outside the royal chambers. His presence alone had paralyzed the Egyptian court. As Arsinoe glanced around, she noticed Roman soldiers subtly watching from the corners of the corridor, their hands on their gladii, their eyes like hawks.

They were under strict orders. Nothing must happen here.

Cleopatra stepped forward, her golden robe swaying with grace and power, her chin lifted with noble confidence.

“And why shouldn’t I walk freely through this palace?” she asked, her voice colder now, carrying the weight of something long buried but never forgotten. “I am the rightful heir to this place—to Alexandria, to this empire. And you know that, sister. You were there when our father, on his deathbed, spoke his final wish. You heard it just as clearly as I did.”

The words hung in the air like a blade suspended over Arsinoe’s head.

And Cleopatra wasn’t finished.

“He dreamed of me ruling as Queen and Pharaoh. He believed I could lead the Amun-Ra Empire into a golden age. And he entrusted that vision to me.”

Her stare was unwavering—icy and accusatory. Nathan remained silent at her side, observing the clash of two women born of the same blood, yet worlds apart.

Arsinoe’s lips trembled as she bit down, suppressing the flood of emotions within. Guilt. Anger. Grief.

She had heard it. That day remained etched in her memory like a burn that would never heal. Their father’s voice, feeble but resolute, naming Cleopatra as his chosen heir. And Arsinoe—back then—had believed in her. She had supported her.

Until everything changed.

“Yes,” Arsinoe finally said, her voice lower, more pained. “I was your first supporter… until you began slaughtering everyone who dared to disagree with you. Until you started ruling through fear. Threats. Bloodshed.”

She raised her eyes to meet Cleopatra’s, her voice growing stronger with each word.

“You turned our father’s dream into a nightmare, sister. You’ve become a tyrant without remorse.”

At that, Cleopatra let out a small laugh—a scoff, bitter and sharp.

“Remorse?” she echoed, her eyes flashing with something unreadable. “Tell me, dear Arsinoe—what remorse is there to feel… when weakness is the true enemy?”

“What weakness are you speaking of?” Arsinoe’s voice rang out, rising with raw emotion. “You slaughtered everyone who opposed you!”

Cleopatra halted in her stride, turning slowly to face her sister. Her expression, once regal and composed, now twisted with unveiled contempt.

“And why shouldn’t I have?” she said coldly. “Because they dared steal what was mine? These greedy, self-serving men cared for nothing but gold and titles. They don’t see an empire—they see a treasury. Do you truly believe they crowned that imbecilic brother of ours because he was more capable than me? More just? No, Arsinoe, they chose him because he was naïve. Easily manipulated. A boy with a crown, and strings attached to every limb.”

Her voice grew colder with every syllable, like frost spreading across a once calm lake. Her gaze pierced through Arsinoe, daring her to deny what they both knew to be true.

“You were there, weren’t you? At his side. You must have seen it. How easily he bent to Pothinus’s words. How willing he was to be a puppet on their stage.”

Arsinoe opened her mouth, but no words came. Her breath caught in her throat. She wanted to deny it, to defend their younger brother—but how could she?

He had changed.

At first, he was a frightened boy, trying to live up to a throne too big for his shoulders. But slowly, Pothinus, Achillas, and their vile cabal had shaped him, twisted him. The more power he gained, the less of himself remained. His soul, what little there was left of it, had been traded for control, coin, and convenience.

The decision to execute Pompey—Rome’s great general and their supposed guest—had not come from the Pharaoh’s wisdom. It was Pothinus’s idea. A desperate bid to please Caesar and gain favor. But all it did was invite wrath.

Cleopatra took a single step closer, her voice lowering into a venomous whisper.

“If he continues to rule, he will tear apart everything our father built. The Empire will rot from within, Arsinoe. He’s already crossed too many lines… and I no longer see him as a child. I see him for what he truly is: a despicable thing, drunk on power, surrounded by snakes who feed on his foolishness. He must die.”

Arsinoe’s eyes widened, the breath stolen from her lungs.

She had expected anger. A battle of words, of legacy and pride. But this—this cold declaration of fratricide—it shook her.

Cleopatra’s expression softened just slightly, a ghost of sympathy passing across her face.

“I hold nothing against you, Arsinoe,” she said. “The only reason I had you taken was to spare your life. You may not believe that—but if you had stood in my way, I would’ve had to strike you down too. And I didn’t want that. I know you’re not a fool. You love this Empire as much as I do.”

There was a pause. Cleopatra’s gaze narrowed.

“Make the right choice. Don’t die for the wrong side out of pride. And if you haven’t realized it yet—Pothinus and his allies see you as just another obstacle. When the time comes for them to consolidate power fully, you’ll be next. Don’t be so stupid as to think they won’t turn on you.”

Arsinoe faltered. Her hands clenched at her sides, her body trembling—not from fear, but from the weight of truth pressing down on her.

Cleopatra turned away and began walking past her, her gold-trimmed robes flowing behind her like a serpent’s tail.

And then she stopped. Just before the corridor turned, she looked back, her voice low but thunderous in its resolve.

“No matter how much blood must be shed—will be shed—for the salvation of the Amun-Ra Empire. I will save it, even if it costs me my soul. Even if I must offer my own blood to the altar of destiny, so be it. I will not watch my Empire crumble into dust, governed by cowards and fools.”

Her eyes glinted in the flickering light of the torches. The queen’s fire burned within her.

“What will you do, Arsinoe?”

But Arsinoe gave no answer.

And so Cleopatra turned her back on her sister and continued forward, Apollodorus and the others silently falling in line behind her, leaving Arsinoe except for Nathan.

Nathan paused, just a few paces ahead, his back still turned to Arsinoe.

“Why did you betray us?” Arsinoe’s voice called out, quiet at first—but trembling with emotion. It wasn’t a royal command. It wasn’t an accusation of a Queen-in-waiting. It was something far more vulnerable.

A plea.

Nathan slowly turned his head to look at her. His expression was unreadable, his white hair catching the torchlight with a soft gleam. His eyes were cold but thoughtful.

“Was it for gold?” Arsinoe continued, her fists clenching tightly at her sides, nails biting into her palms. “Or is it because you really believe Cleopatra is better than my brother?”

Nathan’s lips twisted into a smirk, his voice laced with derision. “What kind of idiotic question is that?”

He took a step closer—not out of respect, but to make sure every word hit its mark.

“Even a blind man could tell Cleopatra is the better ruler. Even you are better than that pitiful excuse for a Pharaoh.”

His tone sharpened, dripping with contempt. “Don’t throw away your life for that spoiled, power-hungry child. He’s a puppet wearing a crown, and the strings aren’t even hidden.”

There wasn’t a flicker of hesitation or regret in his voice. Just brutal honesty.

Then, without waiting for a reply, Nathan turned away again, walking down the corridor as if nothing he said needed defending.

Arsinoe remained frozen, her mouth slightly open in surprise. Of all the things he could have said… he had not only praised Cleopatra, but her as well. He had said she was better than her own brother. That she deserved more.

She wasn’t sure why, but those words lingered—stirring something unfamiliar in her chest.

And before she could stop herself, the words slipped from her lips like a whisper. “Septimius… can you stay?”

It wasn’t a command. It wasn’t even fully thought through.

It was instinct.

He had been by her side many times in the past, yes. As a warrior, a shadow in the palace halls. But right now, this moment… was different. His presence made her feel something she hadn’t felt in weeks.

Safe.

That realization unsettled her.

Nathan paused once more, not turning around this time. “I won’t change sides,” he said simply, his voice now softer. “But you still can.”

His words were maddeningly confident, almost arrogant—but somehow, they didn’t offend her. In fact, they made her lips twitch with an involuntary smile.

So smug. So sure of himself.

And yet… was he wrong?

Arsinoe stared down the empty corridor, lost in thought, the echo of his footsteps fading into the distance.

She didn’t say another word.

But her heart had already begun to stir.