I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

Cleopatra’s lips curved into a slow, enigmatic smile. A dangerous smile.

“I want you to take my side,” she said. “Not Caesar’s.”

“Your side?” Nathan echoed, raising an eyebrow, a hint of disbelief slipping into his voice. Her words caught him off guard—not because of what she asked, but because of the way she framed it.

Wasn’t Caesar’s side technically her side?

He found it curious. Cleopatra had spoken with such unwavering confidence just moments ago, declaring that Caesar would inevitably back her claim to the Egyptian throne over Ptolemy’s. Yet here she was, speaking of Caesar as if he were a separate entity—an outsider. A tool to be used, perhaps, but not someone she considered truly aligned with her cause.

It was a subtle distinction, but one that carried enormous weight.

Nathan’s thoughts lingered on that nuance. Most rulers would have basked in the security of a Roman alliance. They would have celebrated Caesar’s support as a victory already secured. But Cleopatra was different. She wasn’t celebrating. She wasn’t relaxing. She was preparing.

Always preparing.

In her mind, the war wasn’t over—not truly. Not with Rome involved.

What he saw in her was not just the cunning of a politician, but the foresight of a ruler who refused to let anyone—no matter how powerful—hold her leash. She trusted no one, not fully. Not even Caesar.

And in a strange way… Nathan respected that.

“Yes, my side. Not Caesar’s.” Cleopatra confirmed, her eyes gleaming like twin shards of obsidian. Calm, composed—but carrying an unmistakable edge.

Nathan exhaled slowly, trying to measure her intent. “You’re asking me that right after I’ve pledged myself to an alliance with him.” There was no accusation in his tone, just quiet curiosity. It felt like a game of chess, and she had just moved a piece he hadn’t seen coming.

Part of him wanted to refuse her outright.

The alliance with Caesar was a means to an end. Through him, Nathan had a path into the heart of the Roman Empire—into its very capital. A direct line to the real power and information he needed. Throwing that away for Cleopatra’s sake, especially now, would be stupid.

And yet… he didn’t walk away. He wanted to hear more.

Cleopatra’s lips curved slightly, a knowing smile brushing her features. She had expected his hesitation. “I don’t expect you to abandon Caesar,” she said softly. “In fact, I need you to stay at his side. Closer than ever.” She leaned forward slightly, voice dropping into something more intimate, more dangerous. “I want you to be my eyes and ears in Rome. I need information. I need a shadow among their senators and generals. A whisper in the halls of power.”

A spy.

She had no intention of letting her debt to Rome become a chain around her neck. In her mind, her brother Ptolemy was already defeated, irrelevant. The real danger wasn’t him—it was the empire that would demand gratitude in return for their favor. Rome had helped her claim the throne, and sooner or later, they would expect their reward. A foothold. A puppet queen.

But Cleopatra would never be a puppet.

She was already planning for the day when the very hands that lifted her would try to hold her down. Her real enemy wasn’t in Alexandria. It was the Roman Senate. The Consuls. The Generals. Even Caesar himself, if he overstepped.

And to fight that battle, she needed leverage. She needed secrets. She needed Nathan.

Cleopatra reclined again, the firelight casting shadows across her face, her gold ornaments glinting like the gaze of a serpent lying in wait. Her eyes never left his.

“I want someone at the heart of Rome who answers to me, not to the eagle of the Empire. Will you be that man?”

And she expected him—Nathan—to do it for her.

It was audacious, bold… and perhaps the most dangerous offer he’d received in his life.

Still, the fact that Caesar had so quickly taken him under his wing—that he had chosen to keep Nathan close—was already a significant omen. A sign that the Roman general saw value in him, trusted him. Caesar was no fool. He wouldn’t make such decisions lightly.

Cleopatra, ever perceptive, must have noticed that too. And now, like any shrewd tactician, she wanted to exploit it.

If she could sway Nathan—if she could bring him to her side—he wouldn’t merely be a set of ears in the heart of the Roman Empire. No, she had grander designs for him.

She could ask him to shift the very tide of power within the empire—not through diplomacy or politics, but through the language mercenaries knew best.

Through blood.

By eliminating those in Caesar’s way—or hers. Discreetly. Silently. Permanently.

Assassination, sabotage, pressure in the shadows. That’s what she wanted.

“Have you really thought this through before asking me?” Nathan finally spoke, his voice cool but serious—no mocking tone, no sarcasm. Only calculation.

He fixed his gaze on her, searching for a crack in her composure. He found none.

“By all measures, staying at Caesar’s side is the smartest play. He’s not just a general—he’s the face of the Roman Empire. The man holds influence far beyond the battlefield. Power, gold, legacy… it all flows toward him like rivers to the sea.” Nathan leaned back slightly, folding his arms. “And more importantly, he already has the upper hand on you, whether you like it or not. He can offer me everything a mercenary could want—gold, weapons, prestige. He just needs to point at a man, and I’ll make him disappear. In Rome, I can rise high as long as I stay useful. So why—knowing all that—are you asking me to betray him?”

His words weren’t rhetorical. He genuinely wanted to understand. The logic behind it. The leverage.

Most mercenaries would have already declined and walked away with Caesar’s favor in their pocket. But Nathan wasn’t just a mercenary. He didn’t care about money for its own sake. He cared about meaning. And if there was something greater to gain—power, influence, a place in history—he would consider it.

Cleopatra’s lips curled into a slow, amused smile.

“You speak more wisely than the rumors suggested,” she said, unfazed by his reasoning. If anything, his resistance only intrigued her more. “But you are wrong if you think Caesar is the only one who can give you what you desire.”

She stood, the golden hem of her robes trailing like fire behind her as she approached him. Her scent—jasmine and something more ancient, something sacred—filled the air between them.

“Gold?” she said, almost scoffing. “I can give you more than he ever will. Power? I will create it for you. And most importantly, my empire—my future empire—will not remain a pawn of Rome.” Her voice grew firmer, burning with the certainty of someone who did not believe in failure. “It will rise. It will match the strength of Rome, and one day… surpass it. And when that day comes, I will remember the ones who stood by me before the sun rose.”

Nathan let out a low chuckle, not in ridicule but in amusement. “So you’re asking me to gamble,” he said, eyes narrowing with interest. “To place my bet on a future that hasn’t yet come.”

“Yes,” she replied without hesitation, her orange-gold eyes glowing like twin flames beneath the torchlight. “Help me reduce Rome’s stranglehold on the world. Weaken them from within. In exchange, I will give you not just wealth, but a name etched into the legacy of the Amun Ra Empire. A title. A status no Roman would ever grant a foreigner—let alone a sellsword.”

There was no deception in her eyes. Only raw ambition. She wasn’t lying. She believed in what she said. She was willing to reshape history—and she was offering him a place in that vision.

Nathan looked at her for a long moment, silent. Then, slowly, his lips curved into the faintest smile.

Now this was getting interesting.

Nathan had nearly refused her.

When Cleopatra first made her bold proposal, his instincts had leaned toward dismissal. He thought he hadn’t the time to indulge in her ambitions. There were larger things in motion—greater wars to prepare for, deeper secrets to keep buried. He couldn’t afford distractions, not when every second counted.

And yet… this wasn’t a distraction.

This was a gift.

As he stood there, listening to her speak with such certainty and flame, something shifted inside him. A realization dawned—sharp and gleaming like the edge of a blade:

Cleopatra was perfect.

Not perfect in the soft, idyllic way poets described women. No, she was perfect in the way a well-honed weapon was. Ruthless. Ambitious. Visionary. The kind of ally who could change the fate of empires with a single whisper. The kind of person who would not hesitate to stab a thousand backs if it meant taking her throne and keeping it.

And that made her valuable.

In truth, priceless.

Nathan’s mind was already racing far beyond the sands of the Amun Ra Empire or the marble halls of Rome. He wasn’t thinking of Caesar anymore, nor Ptolemy. He was thinking of the Light Empire.

The true enemy.

He would burn it down.

But to do that, he needed allies. Real allies. Not kingdoms that bowed from fear or convenience, but powers that would march beside him in fire and shadow.

And Cleopatra’s Amun Ra Empire… could be one of them.

Currently, her empire was allied with the Light Empire—a decision not of her making, but of her brother’s. Ptolemy, in his fear and ignorance, had likely pushed for the alliance, listening to his simpering advisors who whispered of divine favor and “protection.” They had reached out to the Light Empire as if to a savior, hoping to secure their rule through the might of a holier-than-thou tyrant.

Cowards.

Shortsighted, trembling cowards clinging to power through borrowed strength.

But Cleopatra wasn’t like them.

Whether she supported the alliance or simply tolerated it for now, Nathan didn’t care. That would change. One way or another, it had to change.

If she already disliked the Light Empire, then perfect—he’d give her the means to shatter the alliance herself.

And if she didn’t…?

Then he would force her hand.

He would make her see what must be done. He would push her, corner her, break her if needed—and then rebuild her as something stronger. Something greater. And when that happened, he would guide her to forge a new alliance—not with the Light, but with Tenebria, the Demon Kingdom.

With Tenebria and Cleopatra on his side, and with the Kingdom of Kastoria already moving under his quiet influence, Nathan would possess the strength of titans. The power to strike the Light Empire not just on one front—but on all.

Still, now was not the time to unveil the truth. Not yet.

Cleopatra might be clever, but she wasn’t ready to glimpse what truly moved behind his mask. She still believed him to be Septimius—a sharp-tongued mercenary favored by Caesar. That identity had use, and Nathan would wield it to perfection until the moment came to cast it aside.

For now, he would walk the Roman halls as Septimius.

He would whisper where it mattered, sever what needed severing, and poison the roots of Rome if he had to—all while feeding Cleopatra just enough truth to keep her hungry for more.

The real war hadn’t begun yet.

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