A/N: First of all, thank you so much for the sheer amount of positive reaction to the first part in this story. I woke with it in my head and just wrote it and posted it in a day without really reading or editing anything. So it wasn't my normal standard of edited.
I wasn't expecting there to be a sequel, it was written as deliberately open ended so I could come back if I desired. What I didn't expect was the very many messages encouraging me to continue, so this is dedicated to those who begged for 'more'.
Secondly and finally, a disclaimer: because this was a dream, almost everything in it is fictionalised. The names are real, but the people I've attributed them to are not. The festival is a thing, but the ceremony involved is my own. But as I'm writing about people who lived 5000 years ago, who knows? Maybe these aren't stories, but memories passed from another time... Haha.
Whatever you think, don't over analyse, just sit back and enjoy the story for what it is... A story.
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My favourite part of the past few weeks had always been waking to him.
Usually I was treated to the sight of him rising from our bed in all his glory, his shoulders tensing as he pulled himself up, and then his lean golden back, his butt which I normally grabbed at as it still held the marks from my nails the night before, and then as he turned I was able to see his toned chest, stomach and leading down to that part of him which made my insides curl deliciously to see.
His slaves would be there to dress him in the mornings. They'd wrap his linen shendyt around his waist, making sure to pleat it in the proper and fashionable places, and belted it with gold, jade, ornamental woods, and malachite.
The chest piece he wore was slung around his shoulders, in the centre over his heart was a scarab beetle in turquoise and peridot, and wings of gold fan outward across his chest, reaching up to his shoulders.
They plaited his natural hair tightly against his head. I was always sad to see those dark brown waves of strong hair be tamed and tucked away. A formal black-hair wig was then fixed to his head. The sharp black fringe cut severely across his brow, accentuating his already hard, regal features.
Other ornaments such as the uraeus which denoted his royal blood, were placed in the hair of the wig, to match the jewels in his belt.
This was the last step the slaves were permitted to take part in, as his make-up was only to be touched by royal hands.
The gold dust he used was real gold, I learned, ground down into a fine powder. He used a small brush to lightly dust it on his skin, his stomach, shoulders and face. Then he took a stick of kohl and drew those straight black lines on his eyes and brows.
The final result was fearsome. I held the covers to me as he looked back to me for approval. I know it didn't make any difference if I gave it or not, but I liked the gesture that he cared.
Some mornings I woke in his arms, wrapped in a robe against the chill, as he carried me down to the warm waters deep beneath the palace.
He would slowly wake me there, with his hands on my skin, brushing, stroking me awake in mind and in body. My consciousness would return me to the world after he'd brought me to breaking at least twice.
Some mornings, too early for the dressing slaves, too early even for the birds, he would wake me when already inside me. His body would raise above mine, lit by the moon streaming in through the windows. He would sink himself slowly, slowly into me. His eyes would search mine out, and he'd lean down on his arms to kiss me, stilling himself inside to concentrate on running his tongue against mine until I moaned in frustration. Then he would begin.
I always slept more on those mornings, after he'd sought completion too.
What I experienced with him was beautiful. It was everything I could ever want from a man. My grandfather had once told me that my fire would only allow me to love in one of two ways. Either as an incendiary explosion of heat and passion that would engulf and destroy whomever was caught in it, or as a slow burn that would seem unlikely to succeed, but would heat my heart and hearth for decades, fulfilling my every need.
I didn't know what I hoped this would be.
Even on the days where I was happiest, where I could have everything I could ever want and Rahotep was sweet and gentle and kind with me, I still was reminded by his existence of all that had been stolen from me.
As far as a slave was concerned, I had far more than I could ever hope for. A powerful owner who was loyal to me, kind and generous. If this had been the life I'd been born to then I would have been overjoyed.
But instead I was the only daughter of my mother, and my birthright was to be Queen of my tribe, ruling over all the subjects and lands that my nomadic peoples herded thousands of sheep over every year.
The night before my coronation, an attack was brought upon the gathered tribes which decimated us, and lead to the capture and enslavement of many of my family and friends.
I still didn't know the truth, or the extent of the attack. I had no idea if any of my family lived and if they did, where they were.
I had already found a few of my closest allies serving in this very palace. Ankhet, the girl who had once served me faithfully as a handmaiden, worked in the cruel kitchens, waiting on men and women who she would rather stab. Rahotep, once he'd found out her identity, had bidden that she would be brought to be my companion, as I wasn't permitted to leave his chambers except for very short periods of time.
Through Ankhet, I found out that at least five others from my tribe had been brought here, though the only other one I was able to see was a young boy who was the son of my father's most trusted manservant. He now worked in the gardens Rahotep and I walked in often. He was taller than I last saw him.
Rahotep barely knew any of my past, though he had asked several times. I didn't want to inform him of too much, because even though we now were getting close, I still was aware that I was a slave and he was my owner. It was uncomfortable.
When Rahotep was gone every day, Ankhet and I spoke in our language, in hushed tones just in case there were ears which could understand without us knowing.
Even though it hurt to think of leaving Rahotep, we plotted escape.
I knew if we were unsuccessful on our first attempt, Rahotep's trust in me would be irrevocably damaged, and my position within the palace would be forever changed and suspect. We could not fail.
So we were patient, but we always looked for opportunity.
The most important part of our plans had actually been suggested by Rahotep himself; no one knew that I spoke the common language, let alone others which floated around the palace.
I fed important pieces of information to Rahotep from advisors and ambassadors who met with him and spoke freely between themselves about their true motives. Each time Rahotep was able to skilfully outmanoeuvre them without their being able to guess how he knew. No one saw the slaves and servants around them, no one even thought that they were anything more than the dumb, ignorant chattel, there purely for convenience.
Other information I kept to myself. We discovered a number of useful -- and not so useful -- secret passages leading from the Prince's chambers. Obviously built at different times for various reasons, some had obviously been forgotten, or become redundant, or been rendered useless by the constant reconstruction of the palace.
Still, it was fun exploring, and no one knew we'd even left the chambers.
It was coming up to the Opet festival, where we'd be treated to a month of feasting, dancing and wine. The sun was high in the sky, as it was getting on to be the dry season.
More and more people poured into the city from all over the world it seemed. The palace was soon filled to bursting with every kind of emissary and courtier. Ankhet and I had to be more and more careful that we weren't understood.
Just before the festival began, the Pharaoh, Rahotep's father, celebrated his name day. Due to the closeness of the festival, he didn't celebrate it publicly, but instead he had a very small private gathering with his sons, and some lesser royals.
There were about forty of us seated around the table in the Pharaoh's private dining room. I had been invited specifically by the Pharaoh himself, as he had heard about me from Rahotep, yet hadn't met me bar that first mortifying introduction at Rahotep's name day celebrations.
I wore the red wig that Djet had gifted me, as well as a dress which was a dark green linen. It was pleated from a design delicately embroidered in an ankh hanging between my shoulder blades, the symbol for life, and stretched over my shoulders into a shallow vee between my breasts. The rest of the dress was loose and flowing down my figure.
Rahotep had helped me lightly kohl my eyes for the occasion, and he had worn his formal evening robes as well as his finest shendyt and jewels.
As we sat, Rahotep to the right hand of the Pharaoh, I saw the old man's eyes sweep over me with interest. I knew the evening would be quite dull as I still was maintaining the ruse of being unable to understand any of the conversation going on around me, but as the courses of the meal progressed I could feel eyes on me more and more. I looked up, straight into the eyes of Djet, Rahotep's brother. I hated him.
"It's such a shame you keep this viper like a trained pet even in the presence of our father." I carefully made sure my features didn't react to his words, and forced my gaze down to the food on my plate.
"Must I remind you, my son, that you gave this woman you call viper as a gift to your brother? It doesn't bode well that you would insult that which you would bestow on your Prince Regent." The Pharaoh spoke slowly, but clearly.
"Forgive me, father. I did not think on the implications of my words."
"No, Djet. You rarely do." At his words, Djet flicked his eyes to his father, and in them I saw a moment of rage, though it was gone as quickly as it came. "Personally, I believe she is one of the loveliest creatures I've ever seen. The colour of her skin alone makes her a rarity in these parts. I think you were foolish to give up such a magnificent being, Djet, even if it was in reverence to your brother."
The Pharaoh was studying me closely, and when I raised my eyes to him, he smiled kindly.
