Pharaoh (Flyer) and Thief (Red)

Red leads


This was her opportunity! She wasn't going to waste it just yet, either.

Alarmingly fast steps moved along, clad with a brown robe, the woman ran through the hallways made of marble, the large columns shadowing her figure as she hurried, covered by the protection of the night's clear sky. The moon was her only guidance through the darkness that enveloped the palace and the lands, her only light to see where she stepped and who to expect in front of her. Escaping the palace was no easy feat, but she was a thief before all this happened --she was good at what she did, but like all the others before her, robbing the almighty pharaoh was not a good idea. A set of footsteps echoed behind her, signaling the fact that they were alerted of her departure, much to her chagrin; she gritted her teeth and pushed harder to get to the stables, where her only way out of here was guaranteed. Cursing and pushing her feet on, her dainty hands grabbing at the long robe for easier movement and larger strides in her run, the petite thief continued on, heart racing at every turn.

"Stupid girl," she would mutter under her breath, scowling and frowning at her own foolishness for even getting in this situation. It was really a miracle she was even alive to this day. What had it been now? A month or more since she got captured? Perhaps. Time lost it's essence to her since she was caught stealing from him. Eyes narrowing at the sight of her destination, Samira breathed out, a breath that she kept in for the longest time since she knocked those guards unconscious with a wooden spoon she had managed to sneak out from the royal kitchens. It was pure luck that she even managed to do that, considering the guards were two huge men; fortunately, they had nothing to cover the small of their heads, giving her access to abuse. With trembling hands, she unknotted the first horse that came into view : a white mare, losing no time over placing the right equipment over her back as she mounted her as fast as she could. The footsteps were getting closer now, she could almost feel their presence when she kicked the horse in the side and grabbed at the fur on it's neck. The mare galloped through the two wooden doors that took to the stables and forced the two guards to jump out of her way just as she came dashing at them.

Looking back, Samira smirked to herself, a sense of relief washing all over her shivering body as she kicked again for more speed. Only a bit more and she would be out the gates. It was about this time that the guards at the large gates before the palace made the change in watching for the night, so she had a few minutes to run off through the open gates, before they would close them again. She couldn't wait to feel the breeze of the wide desert on her skin again, the merciless wind that blew through her amethyst-colored strands wildly. An exhilarating type of excitement surged through her body, making her hands ache, her fingers dug into the warm neck of the horse as it ran like the wind, the galloping being the only sound that echoed through the night at this very moment. The gates were now in her sight and she gave a cheeky grin to herself, tasting the freedom on the tip of her tongue --she was already deciding what to do as soon as she got out of the pharaoh's tight grip on her-- just thinking about him again made her stomach curl oddly, almost tickling. Yes, it was good that she was finally getting far away from him; she didn't need to hear his voice anymore, or see his brilliant blue eyes, or even smell his scent when he passed by.

Frowning to herself once again, her ears caught up on shouts when she came charging towards the gates, taking the guards there by surprise. She didn't leave them any time, she just passed through them as if they didn't even exist, her body pressed lower as she held on, kicking the mare again and making it pick up speed once more, leaving nothing but a haze of sand behind her. It was when she found herself staring at the wide desert before her that she genuinely smiled, her robe falling from her head and shoulders as it flew off her forgotten. Her long hair sprinkled behind her in the wind and her eyes closed to the soothing feeling that caressed her flushed skin. "I'm free. I'm finally free."


There were times he absolutely reviled her. There were times he absolutely adored her. Most of the time it landed somewhere in the middle: tolerance. Or rather bemusement. Sarisa, as he had learned was her name, was feisty and rebellious, two qualities that went very poorly went it came to a slave. Yet she wasn't a slave, she was a thief. A no good common thief. A petty horrid little woman who was so far beneath the Son of Ra that she was hardly worthy of licking the sand from his feet. Yet he had spared her. He had given her an empty choice: service or death. She chose death, which he commuted to life servitude. She would die, there was no doubt about that. No doubt if he died first she would be buried alive with the Pharaoh as most of his servants were destined to do. This was one of those times that the scale of like and dislike would drift closer to annoyance than to love. The Pharaoh slouched on his throne. No doubt he had given her too much leniency. Also no doubt she would be aware that escaping from him was no small task regardless of what she was doing.

"My Lord" a guard began, prostrating himself before the white and gold robed Asra. "The one we captured, that thief, is not in her quarters." An annoyed groan came from the lips of the Lord Of The Two Lands. If she honestly expected he would allow this then she would meet her fate a tad too willingly. "..." His vizier looked at him "Son of Ra, Lord of the Two Lands. We must deal with this... disgrace." The Pharaoh opened his eyes and glared at the man, while he had served the previous pharaoh, it was no doubt that young one had no love of the man who was his adviser. The vizier quickly shrank away from the penetrating eyes of his Lord. None on earth dare question his authority, and all those who did found themselves little more than bones in the desert away from his fertile stretch of riverbed. "If she is as clever as she appeared to be she knows trying to leave on foot would accomplish little."

Asra examined his nails and called over a messenger as he rose from his seat. "Call the archers to the walls." "And just where are you going?" His vizier snapped at him as Asra left the throne room. "Settling a problem." The guards trailed behind the Pharaoh as he marched out. Very soon she would understand what an angry god could bring down upon her, what horrors he could easily invent to deal with her and her insufferable, yet oddly enticing, attitude. The thoughts of her as a woman and not as a mere slave were quickly abandoned as he approached the royal stable, only to find something missing. His horse. No doubt she grabbed it in a rushed attempt at leaving, but also to kick him in the teeth on the way out. Be calm Asra. Just take a deep breath. "Orders my lord?" "I want her taken down. Do try to spare the mare if you can." Pharaoh decided it would be another horse to take him to her, and as he prepared to ride out and meet her he could hear the archers mobilizing.

No doubt by the time he had prepared and ridden out to meet her the order would be given. "Archers!" They readied their bows and took aim. "Draw!" They pulled their arrows back. It would be an annoying shot. Darkness combined with wind made it difficult to get an accurate shot, so hopefully they wouldn't miss. "Fire!" The arrows ripped from their bows and soared into the air, their target clear: the girl and the pharaoh's horse with luck they would at least get ONE of those two things, with any luck it would the former rather than the latter. As the missiles ripped through the air the Pharaoh had mounted up his horse and lead him away from the stable and towards the site of the arrows. In truth he hoped she would be roughly unharmed. He still had no idea why he let her live. Did she wonder why? She seemed to hate him for the fact she let him live. Most would be ecstatic at the notion of being allowed to live, and yet she seemed to welcome death like a crazed martyr. They had been 'together' for roughly a month, if together meant the same thing as it did in the context of a warden and his prisoner.

One could argue he had grown rather fond of his 'little pet', as some of his advisers had the habit of calling her. In a sense she was his pet, a rebellious bitch hound for who he needed to consult his royal hound trainers on how one brings to heel a smarmy dog. She should have prostrated herself before him dozens of times already and address him with the respect granted by his position. Did she do such a thing? No. Was it likely she would in the foreseeable future? Assuming she survived the night, no. Still he couldn't bring himself to grant her desire and have her executed. The thief had failed and was now forced to live out her life with the man who brought about her fate. No one questioned him, that much was a god given right. He was the divine leader, the only one capable of leading his kingdom. Her opposition to him only weakened him. His advisers doubting him also weakened him. Against them he would accept no quarter. Asra had barely stopped himself from executing a guard who dared to ask why he kept the thief alive.

'Anyone that dares to question my will and my authority will be dealt with.' In front of the people and before his advisers and vizier he was as iron willed as he was stubborn in his choices. Few could sway him once he had decided, and the girl was even higher on that list. In fact he had probably made a few mistakes trying to help her. He was the Pharaoh, not some milk maid, and yet he visited her 'chambers' at night occasionally. Granted these 'chambers' had evolved from dungeon with Thief tied to the wall with hemp ropes to an actual room, albeit a shared one with the rest of the servants. In a sense they were his informers, ready to rat on the thief girl who was uniquely the most hated person in the palace, well besides the Pharaoh himself but those complaints had a way of silencing themselves when he was within earshot. Her complaints, though, were very much vocal, provided of course he wasn't in earshot. 'If you were to die here, tonight, I would slaughter the one who shot you.' The Pharaoh thought to himself. No one would dare cross him or they would know the full extent of what the Son Of Ra could bring down upon them and their house.


Freedom was not long lived, as she'd hoped. Actually, deep down in her quivering heart, she knew all too well he was not about to let her leave so easily --not until he was dead as well, in which case, she would be buried with him, as per tradition. Distant shouts were of no interest for her, for she was fast and they couldn't reach her so easily, but when soaring arrows came down upon her, she couldn't help but doubt every bone in her body that felt her previous freedom. Her eyes widened as the rain of arrows were scattered around haphazardly, scaring the mare and almost having it send her flying on the ground if she weren't holding tight on its neck. A powerful kick to the ribs and the horse took off faster, making the woman clench her eyes shut at the sudden lunge of the animal. This was no good, her mind was now making up scenarios in which she hoped she would escape from this alive and unharmed, but none seemed to plague her mind as it turned out blank like a sheet of papyrus. "Stop!" but in vain did she yell at the horse, because it didn't stop at her pitiful commands. Another rain of arrows followed suit, making her groan in anger because it was hard enough trying to handle a scared horse just running chaotically with her barely hanging onto it, now she also had to make sure no arrow was going to- "AGH!" --but that of course, was wishful thinking.

An arrow protruded from her right leg, having impaled the muscle in such a painful way that her eyes stung with tears. She did know what pain felt like, she had been beaten before, left to die from hunger or thirst, having to endure extremes heats because she had no more home, left wandering through the desert and whipped for stealing food when she was younger, yet, she had yet to feel this kind of pain. One that made her cry out and her leg to bleed over the white mare. Luck wasn't on her side anymore, she knew that much, and with eyes clouded by tears, clutching onto the running horse, the woman sacrificed her hopes once more, she threw away the thoughts that she will be able to leave the palace again. That was just foolish. Just how could she even consider it? Now she just wanted to go back in time and slap herself from almost a half an hour ago, tell her to just go sleep in her 'chambers' instead of plotting a way out. Cursing herself, pressing her forehead on the furred neck of the animal and swallowing every bit of pride, she finally decided what her next move would be. Cringing, she stood tall on the horse, her arms extended on each side of her, only her legs tightening around the body of the white mare.

It didn't seem to get their attention much, because they shot a third time, but their arrows didn't hit her, oh no, they hit the mare straight on. The horse decided to take a turn on its own accord and thus, three arrows got it directly to the belly, the shoulder and the belly again. Nonetheless, the animal tumbled over, taking Samira with it and almost crushing her if she hand't foreseen in and jumped before the impact with the sand. While it did save her life, it didn't spare her leg very much, her already injured leg already having gotten a sprained ankle at her jump. The fact that she was in so much pain her body went numb, did little to no justice to describe how she really felt. It took her a few seconds to realize that she was laying on her stomach on the cold sand, near a dying horse, just waiting for the guards and pharaoh to find her without even a struggle. She wasn't that smart, of course, so with the last bit if fire she still had in her, she tried to stand up, the arrow stabbing her in the calf doubling her pain along with the injured ankle. She fell on her knees not long after an attempted step, her bleeding only getting worse as she stared horrified at the wounded limb, her hands trembling as her mind raced for alternatives. It was no use, was it? She could already hear the sound of horses galloping towards her location. She was already in their sight if she wasn't wrong.

Samira struggled again, panting like a dog as she got on her all four and crawled, or tried to crawl away, but only realizing that every move she made the whole thing unbearable. Crying out her frustration, the thief ended up seated on the ground, her hands scraped from the fall, her knees as well, bleeding from her calf and her face dirtied with her own tears, while her eyes gazed almost lost towards the approaching men with torches, bows and swords. Clenching her hands, her gaze returned to her wounds, her teeth gritted as it pulsed through her body, the pain becoming more and more evident. It was a given that his anger was going to cause her much worse than just an impaled leg. Now, thinking logically, she could already see how angry he was when he found about her sudden departure. She had finally gained his trust, enough to let her sleep within the servant's chambers and the first opportunity she got, she tackled it like a happy dog, recklessly and carelessly. Just as she did when she robbed him the last time. She had been arrogant and left herself open to him. The men stopped not far from the dying mare and they dismounted, but they didn't approach her to forcefully bring her back, which took her by surprise. It was only one pair of footsteps that dared come close to her vulnerable self, and she already knew who it was, only by the gracefulness and lightness with which he carried himself.

Biting back her ego once more, her pride already swollen from the events that already occurred, having been shown that she really had no tact in what she just did --the wounded female chose to hide away her face, if only for her own sanity. The last thing she wanted him to see was that he actually managed to harm her enough to make her cry. Thank Ra he wasn't witness at her cries of pain. Swallowing the knot that formed in her throat, unable to produce any sounds anymore, she was almost cowering away from his approaching figure, her eyes closed tight, awaiting harsh words and proper punishment for her little escapade --and the fact that he got his archers and guards all worked up and chasing after her like this. It must have been troublesome. But...why did he come when he could have had one of his brutes bring her back by the hair? This only sparked a bit of hope in the pit of her stomach, but she still flinched away when he was about to touch her, his shadow that loomed over her stating his actions clearly with every move he made. It didn't intimidate him, but he was awfully silent for what she had done now, he was...truly angry, if not disappointed. Her chest ached in ways she couldn't explain and she whined within her mind, she hissed, she cursed, she screamed, but it didn't even reach her eyes.

Arms curled around her figure and hoisted her up effortlessly, having her inhale sharply at the contact, realizing that she was completely exposed to him now as he held her in his arms as one would hold his woman. With dull lavender meeting brilliant blues, she realized he could see her, he could read her and it shook her to the core. She brought her shaking hands over her face, hiding away behind her calloused palms, the tear-stained face already having been looked upon by his inexplicably intense gaze. It was just a lost cause now, why was she even trying to hide away her humiliation anymore? Everyone knew! Everyone knew how pathetic she was right now! How pathetically hopeless and helpless she was, being carried by the most powerful man in Egypt as if she was a toy he preferred to play with a little longer until he would probably discard her like all the others. Perhaps she only had to wait for him to get bored? Perhaps that was a much better plan than trying to extinguish fire with fire.


"Cease fire!" The commander roared his order as the archers lowered their bows. The white mare, now stained red, crashed into the sand. The Pharaoh would ensure punishment came to the one who had taken down his beloved steed, but his anger would be focused on the one who injured her. An arrow to the calf was no laughing matter, and the fact he could see it coming out of the front of her leg only made him more concerned. Concern. Why was he feeling that? Any woman in the kingdom was his for the taking and yet here he was, feeling for some lowly pawn in the grand scheme of things. The troops swarmed around the girl as a black mare the Pharaoh had chosen to ride on came into view. She was as dark as night and all that could be heard as she approached was snorting. Sandals met the sandy earth as he walked past the girl and towards the bleeding animal. She was stained red and riddled with arrows, unlike her more fortunate rider. The Pharaoh sat on his knees as he stroked her mane right up until she died. He was very angry. In fact he was so annoyed that he simply sat by the horse as she died, eyes full of terror and panic as death slowly glazed them over.

"My Lord.." A guard spoke up, his eyes on the Pharaoh's back as the young man rose to his feet. The guard dropped to the sand beneath him as the Pharaoh turned to face the guard. He was intruding upon the death of one the Pharaoh had cared for. A mare he had had since childhood. One of the few beings who liked him for who he was. "Speak." His tone was cold, uncaring, but the annoyance was evident. The guard had intruded, this would not be dropped so easily. "T-the girl, Lord." Piercing sapphire eyes fell upon the frail form on her knees. What pain she had caused him, and yet what pain he had caused her. As she sat there he saw a hand fly out to strike her. The smack never came as the Pharaoh grabbed the arm of the one who dared to raise his hand to the girl. "On whose authority?" "But your Highness! She has-" He dared to look upon the Pharaoh and the eyes of the Divine Ruler stared back. He had offended the Pharaoh, he dared to act outside of his place and would be punished for it.

Asra released the man's arm and issued a warning. "Unless I tell you to strike her you will not, and if you do I will ensure you will pay dearly for acting without my judgment." The man gulped, rather loudly, as the Pharaoh released him. Pharaoh's attention was quickly returned to the girl before him. His shadow darkened her figure as if it were a flock of vultures ready to tear her carcass apart. The blood was very much in the water and to her he must have seemed the crocodile ready to tear her to ribbons. He was not angry with her, he was furious. Words could not even begin to describe it, but the anger was short lived. Fury turned into disappointment. He was a fool to have given her even an inch of room, his vizier said as much to him many times. She should be bound and gagged at all times, whipped daily until she repented for her crimes. That would be cruel, albeit perhaps not unjustified. She had dared to steal from the High Priest Of All Temples: Pharaoh. Unquestionable to all whether they be Roman or Jew, none dared to oppose his will. All except her. A gentle hand reached out to her as he moved her face to look into his eyes.

Sapphire orbs angry and yet saddened. If she understood anything she understood that his anger was mostly due to what she did and not to her. She was the reason his beloved mare was dead, the reason he had suffered endless meetings from his advisers. The reason his mother grew angry with him whenever Pharaoh dared to see the thief. Kneeling down to her level he scooped the wounded thief up in his arms, careful not to agitate the arrow. He said nothing as he did this, no words were needed. Why do it though? He could have easily ordered her brought back as if she were some runaway whore he could play with and then discard back into the night when the mood had left him. But Pharaoh personally arrived as if she were someone of importance to the world and not some nameless extra in the grand scheme of things. His piercing eyes met her lavender ones and she recoiled, trying to hide herself behind blooded hands as the Pharaoh cradled her the way a man might do a child or a woman he cared deeply for. He was silent throughout the whole ordeal and brought her back towards one of the rear horses. As he approached the horse he offered her to one of the guards so he had access to his hands once more.

Mounting the brown speckled stallion, Pharaoh once more accepted the woman from her temporary holder and sat her on his lap the way a father might do for a child. Pulling hard on the reins the stallion rose onto its hind legs as it turned to face the opposite way. "Hya!" Asra called out and the horse galloped for a short while. His ankles dug into the stallion's flanks as the pair continued their ride. "I am not angry with you." His first words to her in this ordeal. He had seen the dried tears on her face, and the still semi wet ones that had yet to fall before she covered in face what was both shame and terror. No doubt she expected screaming and maiming to come from Pharaoh now. Neither of those things would happen, as he slowed the stallion to a walk as they approached the city. Would she try to resist him? Would she squirm and throw herself from the horse and hurt herself even further? It seemed like something she would do just out of pure spite and some perverse need to prove she followed no man, not even the Pharaoh. Well if she did decide to throw herself off the horse there was a very real chance that she'd be trampled either by his stallion or by the troops.

Then the Pharaoh spoke again. "You will be treated by my personal healers." Even if she thought she was nothing more than a diversion for the man it seemed clear he intended on taking care of his toys. IF she truly yearned for death then allowing her to live would be torturous enough. Most in her position would be ecstatic, if only because it meant their life would be one lived in relative ease and the fact they would be allowed to live period. But not this girl. In fact he had only recently learned her name was Samira, as she had refused to tell him for the longest time. Of course she did not know his name, in fact very few did know his personal name. His royal name was Sehetep-tawy, He who pacifies the Two Lands. He was the Pharaoh, ruler of the Upper and the Lower Nile. He enjoyed the presence of a peculiar girl and, which he didn't know, her sister. Eventually the stallion, Pharaoh, and wounded Thief arrived back in the city, entourage of guards behind the Son of Ra as the pair made their way back to the stables. She would finally be forced to listen and be with him if she ever intended to recover from her wounds, which no doubt the recovery for her injury would not be that simple or short.

Why could she not have just been a good girl and gone to sleep? Why did she have this intense desire to fight him every step of the way? Dismounting from the horse Asra once again took her in his arms as the Chief Stable Master lead the horses back into the stables. Pharaoh was once more flanked by guards as he barked out a command: "Fetch the Chief Physician, bring him to my quarters!" A guard ran off to do just that as the pair soon arrived in the most heavily defended part of the palace: The royal quarters. Only the most respected stayed in this area. From Roman consuls and governors to the Pharaoh's remaining family, very few were allowed to even enter earshot of the area, let alone lay their eyes upon it. Sandals clicked on the sandstone as the Pharaoh entered his chambers, his chief doctor right on his heels. "I need not warn you of what will happen should you fail." "Yes, my Lord." No doubt what was about to happen was going to hurt. A lot. The arrow needed to come out if she dared have a hope of walking again and Ra be damned if the Pharaoh's prize would become an invalid because of some foolish mistake. Stepping out so the healer could work the Pharaoh shouted at a guard. "Fetch me the one who made the shot!"


She did not squirm, nor did she fight anymore. Her body was on fire and hurting as it was, there was no need to try any other tricks in order to show him how against his every breath she was. She had lost this battle, yet she didn't lose the war --that small speck of hope still glared powerfully beneath the defeat that she wore clearly on her face. He was terribly gentle with her, saying nothing as he mounted and had her seated in front of him, her back pressing to his chest in an almost unbearable way that she couldn't describe herself. All the while, she kept her face hidden underneath the thick veil that her hair provided, eyes averted to anywhere but his hands on the reins or to her wounded leg. While he preferred to speak, she did not, remaining silent through the journey back to that forsaken palace that she has come to detest with her whole being. It was a bad cycle that she couldn't run away from, but she could just walk in circles and have no resolve to her problems. Any other woman in her position, would have been overjoyed, the Pharaoh being so gentle to her, being so careful and so caring, despite her statute or lack of. Even a whore would have been ecstatic to be in his presence the way she was now, the way she's been for the past month. The man rarely did show interest in other women, as far as gossip went, not even foreign royalty interested him, which struck her as odd. Somehow she was sickly fascinating to him, so she provided him with entertainment that others could not, it must have been why he kept her alive and around for such a long time.

Relishing in the fact that she was but an object for his use, the woman quietly glanced at her leg again, her head feeling lighter and her stomach turning ungracefully and nauseous. Absentmindedly, she placed her hand over her stomach in order to calm it down, her eyes shutting just for a second, eyelashes kissing the wet cheeks. It was little to say that she felt relief when they finally arrived, the man gathering her in his embrace once more. The difference was that she welcomed it and clung to it as if he was the last person in this world; perhaps it was because of her aching wounds, but she hid herself in his chest, his intoxicating scent already enveloping her like a warm and comfortable blanket whilst he carried her. There was commotion around them, she could tell that much, but she didn't dare open her eyes. For some reason, she didn't want to know where they were going or why she was being taken there as long as this infuriating feeling of hopelessness would cease to exist. Another set of footsteps joined them and commotion ceased to exist, her body taken to lay somewhere softer, the Pharaoh's warmth no longer there. Brows furrowed, she fought to open her eyes, but the room just seemed to spin with her as soon as light hit her irises, pupils dilating at the intrusion.

"She lost a lot of blood."

They mingled with her wounded limb, she could feel fingers touching and prodding at the tender flesh. As if on instinct, she kicked, the fingers touching the extremely painful area, her moan of pain loud and clear. "Keep her still, please. I need to get the arrow out." the hurried voice muttered, fingers on her calf once more. Taking the arrow out? But that would hurt too much! She would rather live with it stuck in her leg for the rest of her life as long as she didn't get to experience more pain. Her silent prayers went unanswered and the moment the man started to tug on the arrow, she could have sworn she was dying by the way she started struggling and kicking. It didn't matter who she hit anymore, as long as the pain stopped. "Hold her down! It will only get worse!" and as if on cue, strong hands kept her down, the grip so tight she started crying at just how vulnerable she felt. Another tug, and another...and another, her moans turning into full-on screams when the arrow was finally pulled out. Adrenaline coursing through her veins, she somehow managed to break free and punch someone, kicking the other as hard as she could and curling up into a mess of tears and blood. Groans and more shouting came and she was held down once more, her leg outstretched as the healer continued his work through her cries of protest.

After almost an hour, her leg was wrapped in bandages, secured and most importantly, with high chances of being healed. The only reminder would be a scar that was going to dent itself onto her flesh inevitably. The woman was curled up, her tears long dried on her face, eyes barely open as she laid there exhausted, her throat hurting from all the commotion she had caused through the palace. There was no way her screams would have not be heard by the servants as well as everyone that was in the palace this night. Her mind was a haze and her body tired, she didn't say anything anymore, her silence heavy within the Pharaoh's chambers. Even in her last moments of consciousness, she couldn't help but wonder why he went through all this trouble? While she was with the other servants, she often found the women whispering about how he fancied her in ways he never fancied another woman before her. Of course that seemed farfetched, even for some gossiping maidens that had yet to bloom. It was stupid to even think about it, or even consider it, after all, he was the same man that let her sister die. He was the one responsible for the tragedy that plagued her entire family, her only family. It was because of him that she had to live on the streets, because of him, she had to steal to survive and get to live another day. It was because of him that she often got beaten up to a pulp when she got caught. This string of misfortune started from him and she wanted to make sure it ended with him, even if she would give her last breath taking him down with her.

The sour taste was back and fresh tears adorned her already dirty face. Now she couldn't even walk for a few days, or run for a few weeks to months by what she gathered from the one that was bandaging her leg. The vice grip of helplessness tugged on her heart again and she clenched her hands around what felt like silken material under her aching skin. In a spur of the moment, she tried to sit, but as soon as she did, dizziness overtook her head, so she let her back hit the surface again, hair sprawled around her figure as her half-lidded eyes tried to make out her surroundings. It seemed too luxurious looking to be the servant’s quarter and the place where she laid was too comfortable for it to be the ordinary bed she slept on –were these the Pharaoh’s chambers? But why would he bring her here? Her hands covered her blurry vision and she let out a strangled breath mixed with a sob of bitterness that fell down her face. What now? Should she simply let her mind succumb to darkness and surrender her body to sleep and rest? It certainly did sound soothing.

As her eyes slowly closed, her arms falling at her sides, her body simply became limp as the tiredness finally took her for the night. Her lips parted slightly and her breathing became even once more, mind haunted by the memory of her sister and the easy and careless life they used to lead before her death.

“He is a good man.” The light chuckle of her sister echoed through, a young version of herself staring from the mirror at her own flesh and blood. They were very much alike but different in many ways. The tan complexion of Samira didn’t compare to the fairness of her older sister’s. Their eyes, a pair so fiery that one would melt, while the other so gentle it could even tame a beast’s heart. “But you are always there! You never get to spend time with me anymore! I want to spend time with you!” her younger self spat angrily at the older woman, envy and wrath painting her features like a canvas.

“Samira, I will have none of this. It is my duty, it keeps us living well.” She spoke wisely, braiding the long amethyst strands of her little sister, with care only a mother could muster. Pouting, the young Samira glared at her reflection in the mirror. “I don’t care that he’s a good man. He can go die for all I care!” –something that irked Nefertari, her sister, earning her a slap. “Do not talk like that about our future King! He is a good man and you should care about that because he will lead us all one day and you have no idea how important that is. You have no idea how much he will have to go through in order to become a great ruler, you have no idea how—“ she stopped herself suddenly, taking note of the saddened face of Samira.

Gently, she placed her hand over her swollen cheek and caressed it lovingly. “Samira…you must learn that there are more important feats in this world. One day, I will not be around to care for you anymore, so what will you do then? Stomp your foot and hope something falls from the sky? Hope that the gods will take pity on you?” the kind tone that she used made the stubborn girl look away shamefully. “No…” –a smile graced Nefertari’s lips and she resumed her previous activity: braiding the long hair beautifully and decorating it with flowers.


Her screams filled the royal quarters and Asra was met by the annoyed expression of the one woman he had no intention of hearing: His mother. "Why? She is nothing but trouble. Never mind the fact she is nothing more than a commoner. Do you not remember what happened to the last woman who treated you this way?" Asra glared up at his mother. She had a right to stay in the palace after all. Mother of the Pharaoh, wife of the previous one. "" The mother scoffed at her son. "Are you trying to imply something?" "Not at all mother." He truly enjoyed Nefertari's presence, so much so in face that she was made the head of the royal servants and the absolute personal servant to the Pharaoh. Where he went, she went. What he wanted, she provided. She became his shadow and one of the few people that saw the man behind the mask of rule. "What do you plan to do with that thief? Keep her like a pet? Execute her for this foolish rebellious act?" Asra locked eyes with his mother until she stepped away. "For now, as you can hear, she is to be cared for."

Mother was not pleased and took her leave, shaking her head and mentioning something about how foolish her son was. Little did she remember that the previous Pharaoh had loved a servant: her. Just as Asra had felt feeling for both Samira and Nefertari, unbeknownst to him the fact they were sisters. The screams continued as the Pharaoh stood outside his own quarters, flinching with each piercing scream that left the mouth of the girl. No doubt she hated him reviled him, thought him the lowest scum on Earth. Yet he still cared for her just as he did her sister. She was the family he never had, she was genuinely kind to him. She may have treated him with respect, but Asra believed that was just how she was, so in a sense she was treating him as an equal and not the all powerful Lord others saw him as. Her sister, then, was similar. She too treated the Pharaoh as an equal, but in the exact opposite direction Nefertari did. No Samira treated him like an equal assuming she treated everyone poorly and with general distaste. Asra crossed his arms over his chest as the physicians left his chambers. "We were lucky. Her bone wasn't harmed." The physicians took their leave and the Pharaoh went into his chamber.

She had passed out, no doubt from shock and blood loss. It seemed clear his bed was off limits tonight, even if you disregarded the blood soaked cotton covers there was still the matter of a woman sleeping there. Pharaoh approached the bed and gently sat down. Her body was finally easing itself into sleep and the greatest man in Egypt watched her sleep for a few seconds before realizing how horribly creepy it must seem. Who honestly watched other people sleep? Creeps, that's who. Rising from the bed he departed from the chambers, his light steps and sandal wearing feet taking him from the room without waking her up hopefully. One of the guards outside the room saluted his Lord as the Pharaoh spoke. "Keep a few guards watching her, but don't enter the room." "Understood my Lord." Pharaoh walked away from his chambers and walked towards one of the spare guest chambers. They were not nearly as lavish or luxuriant as HIS chambers but they were far and away better than the servant quarters, and even superior to those found in typical homes. Well it would do for now.

Pharaoh awoke as the sun rose. He usually work up early and this typically manifested itself as Asra walking around the palace with a sole guard looking in on the goings on of those who served him. It also acted as moral boosting as it made them feel appreciated. As if their Lord truly cared for them and their lives, which in a sense he did. Tour of his own house over he eventually made his way back to the royal quarters and to his own quarter. As he entered his room he walked towards the bed. The girl looked comfortable in his bed. No doubt that was because of what it was rather than who had slept in it last. There was no doubt she had probably never slept in a bed like that before and now it seemed she would be spending a good deal of time in it. Asra approached the bed and sat down on the side of it, his sapphire eyes keeping watch on the darker skinned woman. She would no doubt be furious when she awoke. Shout at him and accuse him of some such thing. He would have to remind her how she snuggled against him with they reached the city as if he were a father guarding his precious daughter.


It was all so soft and comfortable, pulling her in for more sleep, the light cover providing heat as she hid underneath it. Everything seemed heavenly, until she outstretched her legs --boy did that hurt-- eyes now open, she curled back and clenched her teeth. Memories from the night before clouded her mind like an avalanche and suddenly she ached everywhere. A groan left her lips as she finally emerged from the covers like a cat, her hair covering most of her vision in a mess of amethyst. Being able to see nothing and having no thoughts of even trying to, the woman yawned loudly and ungracefully, a shiver then running down her spine at the sudden coolness of the air. This wasn't going to do. Deciding to let herself enjoy the warmth more, she grabbed the covers and pulled them over herself again, hiding among them as she shifted around until she was comfortable again. As she snuggled into the pillows that she somehow managed to gather around during her tumultuous sleep, she could have sworn she felt watched. Did she see anyone while she sat up? She certainly couldn't recall,but then again, she couldn't even see a meter in front of her with the mop of wild hair all over her face. Frowning, because this wouldn't give her peace, the woman shoved the covers back and brushed a hand over the wild hair, revealing her squinting eyes, scanning the surroundings --until she finally saw him.

If she could go pale, she would have, because all that wrath that she felt last night was coming back tenfold. "Oh? You didn't burn alive in Seth's flames yet?" and so, the verbal attack started. She spared no time for good mornings or petty smiles, her leg was aching and she was going to pour all that over him. So what if he was the pharaoh? Were they not people? She found it so delusional how many of the rules before and now called themselves gods. Sitting up, the woman narrowed her eyes at him, those eyes of his boring into her very soul as she glared right back, in hopes that she somehow appeared intimidating. As her frown deepened and her lips parted for another lunge at his pride and ego, two maids came inside the room, her eyes flicking over to the new presence like a predatory lioness. They carried fruits, honey, bread, all arranged prettily on silver platters. She watched almost insulted as they bowed to the man and brought the food near the bed on a wooden table. Just the sight of food made her mouth water and her stomach to growl in protest, a sound that didn't go as unnoticed as she would have preferred. On instinct, her hand shot up to cover her stomach as if that would stop the grumbles --her cheeks caught on a rosy color and she glared away from the food laying so close to her. It was her pride that stopped her from reaching over and devouring it all, all her ego and dignity that would end up stomped underneath her own feet if she gave in.

"So now what is next? You will bring bellydancers to entertain me? What about--" and once more she was interrupted after the maids leave by the healer that she remembered vividly from last night's adventure. er leg burnt just at the sight of this man and she couldn't help the intense glare that settled over her features, a clear scowl making itself known as she shifted back, pulling her legs closer to her body in defense. "My lord, I have come to change the bandages." he spoke nonchalantly, giving the pharaoh a bow "It is important that they are always fresh to be safe from any possible infections that could turn fatal if not careful." To her horror, the healer was now approaching her bed, making her gulp down the knot that formed in her throat. She dug her fingers into the covers and pulled them up like a shield "You will have to let me treat your wound. Do you wish to walk again?" his voice was even more stricter than last night. Peering down at her dark crimson painted bandages, she had to admit that the dried up blood wouldn't do her any good. Reluctantly, she pulled the covers away for a bit, just to swing her legs over the edge of the bed, the movement having caused her garments to raise up and show the tanned thighs underneath. The healer didn't seem phased and neither was she as her eyes stopped over the wounded calf. Kneeling, the male gently cupped her leg between his fingers, her skin soft under his touch.

Removing the old bandage was challenging, because she would pull her leg every time she felt the slightest pinch, she hissed and groaned and whined, almost having the healer lose his patience with her. It wasn't easy for her to remain still, but the thought of healing fast and being able to walk and run again, well, that kept her enduring. Finally, when the deed was done and her calf wrapped in fresh bandages and tincture that was supposed to hurry the healing, the man left and she stared after him almost lost. Now what? Glancing behind her at the bed and the sheets dirtied with her own blood, she winched and decided that she was going to throw herself out before he could. Sheepishly, she glanced towards him, not knowing exactly how to bring up the issue. She needed to be taken back to her cell or...servant chambers at least and she couldn't walk by herself, so how was she going to ask this of him after the sharp verbal lunges that she's been aiming at him since she woke up? Did he want to see her crawl back to her place? Seemed fitting for breaching his trust like that, if she said so herself.


What a wonderful way to start the morning. Being berated by a woman whose life was now in your hands, almost literally. Samira had nerve, that much he could not deny her. What he could deny her was a great many things besides that. Her freedom, her life had he the desire. In a sense she was his property, especially now considering she couldn't walk and found herself struggling to even get up to sit, let alone fighting him in any real way. "My dear little thief, you have a wonderful way of showing gratitude. Tell me, what to do plan to do next to thank me? Hm? Shout some more? Pout and cross your arms like some petulant child?" Pharaoh rose from the bedside as his servants entered carrying food. How annoying it would be to explain that he preferred a simple breakfast and this feast was based on the knowledge that eating well helped to heal the body. The feast, it appeared, was for her. Crossing his arms over his chest as he continued his watch over her. She could try to look threatening but it wasn't going to work on him. Especially after the events of the previous night, her body curled up and against his desperately clinging to the warmth his frame offered to the wounded, both in pride and body, girl.

"What's next is you cease this attitude and eat." Thankfully before their next argument could erupt, and before the Pharaoh could flinch at the giggling of the maids as their lord was met with his match, the royal healer had arrived. Bowing before the Pharaoh, Asra watched as the girl seemed timid and afraid around the man. He explained what he planned to do and the Pharaoh simply nodded. "Proceed." Oh he would enjoy watching her break, even if she lacked the distinct crunch that scarabs had. Just as he expected Samira squirmed as the medic approached, trying to hide away from the the man as if he was some horrifying monster trying to eat her and not literally the opposite. "You will have to let me treat your wound. Do you wish to walk again?" The answer to that question was an obvious Yes and so she relented and lowered the covers she had so cautiously thrown up as a makeshift barrier between her and the physician. She moved with little grace as she made her way to the bedside and ended up revealing a little more than she probably intended.

Asra's eyes landed on her tanned legs for a second before returning to looking at the doctor and the girl's wound. She was exquisite, to put it lightly. No wonder he kept her around. Not to mention she had nerve. He couldn't deny her of that. As the healer held her leg gently in his hand an odd feeling came over the Pharaoh. Jealousy? What should be jealous of? That the man could hold her so close to him and so gently where she would probably kick and scream in his grasp? Of course, he reminded himself, she hated him. Loathed him. Wanted him dead, let alone in her presence. Why would she want him there? Why did she react to him the last night? Cling to his body and burrow herself in his chest like she was a small child clinging to her father and his familiarity. She yearned for his presence then, granted that easily could have been from shock and the cold of night that forced her against him and dig her tear stained face into his silk clad chest. Yet he also yearned for her presence. Her body was soft yet firm, tense yet relaxed, feminine yet dominant. It was alien and odd, both her and his feelings. Feelings his mother would have wished to see corrected and removed.

After much faffing about with her cringing and the healer TRYING to help her, eventually the girl's bandages were changed and the healer took a breath of relief as he got away from the girl and released her leg. "I'll return in a few days to check up on you." Pharaoh nodded his head in respect as the man left the room. Asra turned to look at the girl and saw her confusion. She looked from the healer to the blankets and the bloodstains on them before turning to face him. In a sense he could tell what she wanted to ask. She didn't want to be a burden to him, or rather she wanted to remove herself from his sight. "You have three options, Samira. One: You may go to a cell, which you probably deserve after your little stunt. Two: You may be returned to the servant chambers. Your third option.." Pharaoh turned away from her and snapped his fingers. Guards entered the room. "Summon a maid and then lift her from the bed so its covers may be washed and replaced." The guard saluted and left to fulfill his orders. "Is to remain here until you have recovered enough to walk back to your servant chambers."


The memory of the cold nights spent in the cell made her skin crawl, so did the servant beds that she had to endure. If anything, sleeping in a patch of hay was more comfortable than those rock solid beds the poor servants had to sleep in. The third option made her choke on her own saliva, but she gracefully handled it with an arch of her right brow and masked it as a light cough-clearing of her throat. Now, as endearing as that was, she couldn't help but question his decision --even his sanity. Was he really about to offer her his bed? Was there a catch? Was he looking to lay with her? Frowning, she measured him with her lavenders, trying to determine if he was meaning what he was saying. Truth be told, the servant ladies had been gossiping around about how the fearless leader was enamored with her, how he favored her among the rest, but she shrugged that off as being simple interest given he was a man after all. Any man would succumb to his carnal desires at some point, but she made it her job to kill him in his sleep if he would ever approach her in such a way. Samira scoffed, without realizing that she did it out loud, and crossed her arms over her chest defensively, her lips pursed as she rudely glared at him. It was a judgmental stare, one that said enough, one that could tell him how much she doubted his offer came without any cost.

"I'm not a whore." her words were as plain and simple as a hot day in the desert, dry and without any cover to run to. Commotion from outside gripped her attention, making her eyes flick towards the door. Why was there so much happening so early on? Everything seemed to calm down for a bit, so she returned her gaze towards the male in the room with her. "I'm not going to lay with you...I know how you royalties go around trying to seduce servants and leave them pregnant. Then shun them away, as if I will fall in that trap just for a comfortable place to sleep in! The other women already gossip how you may be enamored with me and I'm not going to be the pregnant servant roaming the desert for mercy from Ra. So I will crawl back to my cell, much more safe." she declared with another scoff and then glared away from him. Maybe she over-reacted a bit? No, of course not. Her mind was set and she couldn't exactly take back the words that suddenly made her cringe. She practically made him aware of the fact that the other servants are talking about him and his odd infatuation with her. Then again, what man in his right mind would even be interested in a spitfire like her? All she touched burned to the ground at the powerful flame she held within her soul. Unbreakable and feisty to no limit, you may think the man would have learned that by now and it left her wondering why he wouldn't execute her already? Were the rumors true? She shook her head. No, of course not. She was only an infatuation. He was a man and she, a woman, it was natural to some degree. It would pass the more she acted against him. Maybe then, she would be able to embrace death.

Commotion stirred once more and this time louder, with a female voice far out. With a puzzled face, she tried to remember that voice, but a hurried guard quickly entered the room and closed the door behind him, kneeling in front of the pharaoh. "My lord, your mother wishes to enter your chambers with news of your future wife. She wishes to enter now, but we did as instructed and did not let her in right away. What shall we do?" he seemed pretty distressed, but as soon as the pharaoh's attention slipped from her and as soon as she heard 'mother', she knew exactly why she remembered the voice. That woman was as venomous as a snake and she had it coming for the thief since she was brought here. Horror struck her features and in a stupid moment, she stood up from the bed with the desire to just flee the scene. The last thing she wanted was to confront the woman and explain why she was laying in her son's bed. Hell, she wished she knew the answer too, but now she was in no mood to handle her stinging words. Of course, her leg gave out and the pain literally had her eyes water, a soft whimper leaving her lips as she fell on her knees next to the bed. Now this was troublesome. Her leg was now pulsing and she could hear the woman on the other side of the door. The guard that was inside looked up at his pharaoh with utmost distress, Samira was now panicking and her eyes darted around the room for a place to hide away.

It was just a matter of time before the woman barged in and again, she was in no mood or position to counter back. Usually it ended in a backhand, or a beating from her personal guards, but now her body was weak. Add the fact that she was incredibly hungry and had to abandon the food that laid so close in her sight. Sacrifices had to be made and her eyes spotted the space under the bed which could fit her if she laid underneath it on her stomach. Biting her lip,hearing the voice, heart pounding "Damn it all." she rolled underneath it, just as the mother of the pharaoh walked in with a scowl on her face, her eyes scanning the whole room for intruders, or...her, to be ore exact. She breathed out once she was underneath, body relaxing and winching at the pain in her foot. Not only did she dirty her bandage, but now she was sure she was more than a mess, she was a ruin.


"I did not say you were a whore, did I? In what way did I infer any desire to lay with you? The murmurings and short sighted gossip of slaves and servants have no purpose being repeated to me, not from you nor from anyone else." Pharaoh leaned down to reach eye level with the impetuous young woman. "Would it not be better for the sake of your leg that you are not moved? Or does being a crippled woman incapable of doing anything for herself appeal to you?" Pharaoh straightened himself as she looked away, seemingly ashamed of herself and what she had just said to him. She was acutely aware of what she had did and how her words had not only been wrong but also a very bad thing to utter after she had been helped. If the Pharaoh had wanted her dead then there was very little doubt that right now vultures would have been pecking her eyes out near the white mare that had toppled her to the ground. He did like her presence, she both amused and infuriated him. She knew how to annoy him, but then she was capable of tender moments and small things that made the Pharaoh want her around rather than a corpse in the desert. She would do well to remember that people had been put to death under his father for much less than what she has forced him through.

You would think the woman before him would learn that he was not an easy man to please, and even harder man to drive away when his desire was there. However before the two of them could get into an argument, as they normally did, a guard stormed in and prostrated himself before the Pharaoh. "Go ahead." "My lord, your mother wishes to enter your chambers with news of your future wife. She wishes to enter now, but we did as instructed and did not let her in right away. What shall we do?" Pharaoh groaned at this. Ever since he was seven his parents were trying to arrange marriages for him, none of them successful since in the end the say lay with the, then, prince. He would not be easily given away as he grew older and eventually began denying most choices brought before him. Now it seemed a another would be brought before him. "Again? Has she not grown tired of the times I have denied her attempts at wedding me?" It seemed he had little choice in the matter though, since his mother was not just manipulative but was capable of bringing terror to even the brave.

The next noise he heard was a thud and that the next several seconds seemed to go by in slow motion. He turned to face the sound of the noise only to see it was Samira, who was now face first on the ground and had managed to injure herself again. The Pharaoh turned to face the guard and then pointed at the door. "Hold that door!" The guard did as told and Asra made his way over the girl. "Don't worry. This wont take long." He knew it would take a long time if his mother had her way. No doubt she'd storm in and beg his audience, he'd agree of course and a young woman would be presented to him who he would then have to spend an amount of time with in order to see if the two meshed or not, usually ended up in the not since neither of them really wanted the marriage but this was mostly political posturing. Samira eventually made her way under the bed and the guard was given the okay to release the door, which of course was flung open by the now irritated mother of the high priest of Ra. This would no doubt this would end up going very poorly.

"So I assume the harlot that stole your mind has been removed?" "Mother must we always go back to this? Your position on this matter is irrelevant and I will not have you question my decisions on this matter. Now what are you here for?" Asra's mother walked past him and sat on the bed, the Pharaoh following after her. "A potential fiancee. A letter from her father has just arrived, she will be here mostly likely in a few days." The annoyance was clear as the Pharaoh exhaled, only to be met with a sharp whack from the mother. "You may be pharaoh but you are still my son. You have been defiant since you were a child. When will you grow up and find a wife?" Asra glared at the women only to see her glaring right back. They shared the same eyes, piercing and cold albeit his were warmer but they still had the look that made people want to stop and listen. Ice met ice and the Pharaoh eventually relented. "So you wish for me to do as I have before? Spend time with them and try to get along?" "As usual I expect you to succeed."