The Pharaoh's princess

The dream Idris pov

Idris – POV

After soccer tryouts, my legs were on fire—but I wasn’t surprised when the coach told me I had made the team. I’ve always had a natural feel for the game. My dad used to brag about it like I was some hometown legend. That was before he stopped showing up for things. Before he stopped trying.

I had two classes with the girl that looked like the princess. Renee.

Even her name felt like poetry. She hadn’t looked at me once since that morning. Probably still embarrassed. I’d definitely caught her checking me out. I smirked at the memory. She had good taste.

The rest of the day passed in a weird blur. When I got home, the apartment smelled like baked cheese and garlic—comfort food. My mom stood in the kitchen, her back hunched, eyes rimmed with tired shadows. She straightened when she saw me.

“How was your day?” she asked, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.

I gave her my brightest smile. “Good. Made the team. Teachers seem decent.”

Her shoulders relaxed just a little, and I caught a flicker of pride behind her exhaustion.

Dad didn’t even glance up from his phone. Just sat there on the couch, thumb scrolling, face blank. He didn’t ask about my day. He didn’t even blink.

I tried not to let it hit me—but it did. Hard.

He used to light up when I walked in the room. Now I might as well be invisible.

Mom made baked nova-mac—the kind with five cheeses and the crispy topping. My favorite. She and I ate alone, as usual. Dad stayed planted in the living room, hunched over like the screen might tell him something new about himself.

After dinner, I helped clear the table and load the washer. It wasn’t much. But if I could take anything off her shoulders, I would. She deserved rest. She deserved more than what this life gave her.

Later, I slipped into bed with a heavy heart.

I already knew what dream was waiting for me.

It always came the same way—soft at first, like mist crawling in through cracks.

But tonight… something shifted.

This time, the dream didn’t start with darkness.

I opened my eyes to a hall of gold and alabaster. Wide columns stretched toward a ceiling painted with constellations. Warm torchlight danced along the edges of the walls, where glimmering symbols told stories I somehow understood.

I walked through the hall like I belonged. Guests in jeweled tunics nodded as I passed. My lips moved, greeting them in a foreign tongue—yet it felt familiar, like muscle memory.

And then I saw her.

My princess.

She wasn’t dying. Not this time.

She stood beside a high throne, radiant as sunrise. Her braids were adorned with gold rings and beads, and a serpent-shaped circlet rested on her forehead like a crown of fire. Her dress flowed around her like it had been spun from moonlight. She looked proud. Alive.

And my heart twisted in my chest.

“Rahotep,” someone called.

The man on the throne—powerful, dignified, wearing a robe of cobalt and white—beckoned me forward. I moved without hesitation, like my body already knew the steps.

The throne room quieted.

“Today,” the man said, his voice echoing through the pillars, “I name my successor.”

He rose, every eye watching him.

“My health declines… but my mind remains clear. With full confidence, I pass the crown to Rahotep—my most trusted shield and blade. May he lead this realm into its next era.”

I turned to look for her—my princess—but she was gone.

My chest tightened.

The man’s face, once calm, now showed the edges of sorrow. Behind his pride was something deeper. Regret.

My hand reached out, resting on his shoulder.

And suddenly I could hear his thoughts.

She will be angry. But I have no choice.

A second voice echoed in my mind. My own.

She should be angry. If someone took everything that belonged to me, I’d burn the world down too.

It was like two minds occupied the same space—one tethered to duty, and one bleeding for what was lost.

The banquet faded into quiet. The guests dispersed. The throne room emptied until it was just the two of us.

The man—my Pharaoh—slumped in his seat. The weight of the crown seemed to age him by the second.

“I am not dying of natural causes, Rahotep,” he said, his voice quieter now.

I felt the words lodge in my chest.

“Someone has poisoned me. Tonight took nearly everything I had left.”

My knees hit the marble floor. Tears slipped down my face, even though I hadn’t chosen to cry. My hands trembled.

“I couldn’t give the crown to my daughter,” he continued, his voice breaking. She’s too young. Too idealistic. But you… you’re strong. You’ll protect her. Keep the realm from falling apart.”

He paused, his eyes shining with something that looked like shame.

“There are those who smile in my presence… but once I’m gone, they’ll bare their teeth. Choose your allies wisely, Rahotep. It may save your life.”

His breath grew shallow.

“The cook was executed this morning. He was caught putting Arsenic in the stew. But he took the name of his master to the grave. There is still a serpent among us.”

I wanted to scream, to ask who, to promise I’d find the traitor—but my mouth would not move.

I was trapped in the body. Watching. Feeling. Remembering.

The worst part?

I already knew.

Somewhere deep in my bones—I knew the poison. The whispers. The betrayal.

None of this was new.

Afterward, I was guided to a smaller chamber. Simple, elegant. The walls were carved with glowing sigils. A stone bed lay draped in silk and fur. A basin of cool water reflected the moonlight through an arched window.

I sat on the bed. My body was tired. But so was… whatever spirit had lived this before.

We lay down. Together. Past and present. Memory and dream.

And for the first time since these visions began… I slept inside the dream.