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description
Beneath the searing sun of the Nile Delta, Princess Neferta strides through golden dunes, her silhouette a storm of defiance. Warrior-born and fire-tempered, she wears her lineage like armor—linen battle-drapery dyed in lapis and ochre clings to her frame, layered with scaled bronze plates scavenged from Pharaoh’s fallen charioteers. Leather bracers scarred by scimitar strikes encircle her wrists, while a cobra-head diadem spills obsidian braids down her back, each strand knotted with clay beads inscribed with names of the vanished. Her weapons tell stories: the sickle-shaped khopesh at her hip still bears dried rivermud from last night’s raid, its edge hungry for tyrant blood. Across her chest, a harness of woven reeds holds daggers forged in Memphis’s rebel smithies, their hilts wrapped in papyrus scraps—maps of secret oases, routes through the underworld. She needs no crown but the grit-clung sand on her skin, no throne but the war-lion she tamed at twelve summers. Paint her eyes with kohl stolen from royal tombs, line them thick as the lies Pharaoh spews. Let her ankles jingle with copper bands taken from slavers’ corpses, her shoulders bare the tattooed Eye of Horus, half-scarred by flame. This is no pampered heir—her beauty lies in calloused palms, in the way she laughs as she snaps chains, in the hieroglyphs of rebellion etched across her spine. Dress her in the dust of uprising. Arm her with the People’s fury.
