WHEN JEZZA WAS SIXTEEN AND HER eyes were a lighter, purer blue rather than the midnight streaked starry sky they are now, she used to dream of Egypt in ribbons of gold. She would be a dancer in the Pharaoh's court, her body adorned with shimmering silk and bangles that winked in and out of focus every time she moved; her hooded eyes would be outlined in black kohl, black and blue, the slanted windows to her soul.

Pharoah's eyes would follow her wherever she went, around the outer edges of the throne room, feet light and invisible, twirling, twisting, gliding across the floor, and he would lean forward on his coveted seat, sceptre draped across his knees, where her body should be. 

He would smile at her, as his advisors talked and laughed around him, a dimple appearing in his cheek beneath the cover of his beard. Draped in white and cloth of gold, his skin would be the same shade as hers, if not darker, smoother, more perfect.

The music beaten onto the drums by the palace boys would stop but she would continue on, so that for a few extra moments nothing would exist between them, only air and ancient customs and norms. Then she would fall to her knees after executing a perfect, spiralling jump, as if dead, seized by some ancient spirit. Her loose dress would settle in flickering folds all around her, hair draping like a curtain over her face, before she would lift her eyes to meet his gaze once more.

"What is your name?" he would ask her.

"Jezebel," she would whisper.

He would pat his lap. "Come here, Jezebel. Come."

And she would. Except now the Egyptians were the ones coming to her, and she hadn't asked them to.

"Elia," she said, torn out of her past reverie, "it's the Egyptians, isn't it?"

The blonde-haired girl gulped and nodded her head, helping Jezza's mother to her feet. "Yes, it is."

"Why are they here? Is it to declare war on us again?"

"I don't...I don't think so. Lord Andromedus said the Exchange is to happen in a fortnight, they wouldn't dare break it before then."

"But the soul tie," Jezza said, remembering the ancient magick used to forge the Exchange, "it only lasts one year, until the fresh set of nobles are bound. What if they're gathering their forces while they are waiting for it to happen?"

"P-Perhaps they're just early?" Elia offered, trembling in fear now.

"The God King is never, early, Elia. He is always on time."

"But the soul tie hasn't been broken yet, as you said. There's still two weeks left until the next Exchange. Besides, I don't see any weapons."

"Still, it's best if we aren't here when they dock," Jezza took her mother's arm and began to lead her away from the water's edge. "We should go back and tell the others."

"Your father, you mean?"

"Yes, Eritreus, or Calix if you see him first. I doubt we could find King Damen in time, he always stays in his rooms whenever he comes to visit."

"Okay," Elia nodded and gripped her mother's other arm. "Let's go."

They stumbled away from the Eurotas, their backs towards the mysterious, foreign men, and attempted to tug the older woman along with them. But Jezza's mother would not budge.

"Mama?" Jezza said, glancing between her and the sigil of Amun-Ra's that she was fixated on. "Mama, we have to go."

She tried to take her mother's other arm, but she shook out of her hold. Old looking or not, her mother was stronger than both and her and Elia, muscles honed from years doing the kind of backbreaking work that might have killed a lesser woman. If she didn't want to leave, then Jezza couldn't make her. But if they didn't leave, Jezza also feared what might happen.

"Mama, please, we have to get back to the house. We don't know why they're here, yet. We can't meet them like this."

She knows her mother heard her, but she didn't move a muscle.

"Elia," she said, turning to her friend, "what are we supposed to do? Why is she being like this?"

"I think she misses it. Egypt. They remind her of where she came from. She must not think they will hurt her."

"But she's a slave," she couldn't help but protest desperately. "We're all slaves. They always hurt us."

"Look," Elia placed her hand on her shoulders, "you've always told me Spartan men don't know how to love, but what if you were wrong about all men? What if Egyptian men do?"

"They're the God king's men. They do what he tells them to do. They could hurt us, rape us. I won't let her go through that again."

Elia's chin trembled and she glanced out at the Eurotas, where the ships were making their way downstream, the masts growing bigger with every second that passed.

"Go back to the house, Elia," Jezza told her. "Tell Apa and the others what's happened. Have someone find the king and my father."

"What about you?" Elia asked, her sweet voice laced with worry.

Jezza gave her a sad smile. "I'm staying here with her. I can't leave her alone, not after what Calix did to her. If the Egyptians mean to kill us, then we'll die here together."

"Jezza--"

"It's okay, Elia. You can go."

"Jezza...Jezebel.....," Elia opened her mouth as if to say something more, but nothing came out. Instead, she engulfed Jezza in another tight, sweet hug. Jezza could only hope this didn't mean goodbye.

"Go, Elia. Tell them the Egyptians are here. Tell them I've stayed to meet my people."

"They won't hurt you," Elia told her, wiping a stray tear away from her cheek. "You're too beautiful to hurt."

A bitter, crazed laugh bubbled up inside of her. "Tell that to Calix, and every other man in this world. The beautiful ones always get hurt. Now, go on," she urged her friend. "Now, before it's too late."

Elia nodded and gave her one last squeeze. Then she turned on her heel and ran. Back through the cover of trees, the green foliage that welcomed her like a lover into its prickly embrace. Jezza watched her until she could no longer see her pale legs or the silver of her white tunic until the sound of her footfalls became a distant memory.

Then she turned back towards the water, where destiny awaited.

Her mother reached out a hand, palm up, and Jezza took it, squeezing it gently as she did. She could understand her mother's reasoning, despite her silence, or perhaps because of it. Egypt was her homeland, as familiar to her as the dark strokes that existed on the palms of her hand. She'd never been accepted here, never welcomed. If she'd been a mere low caste woman there, forced to work in the palace as a servant and sell her wares off the street to survive, then she was less than nothing here.

She owned nothing, not the shirt on her back, not the flesh on her bones, not even her own daughter. Under the Sun King's rule, at least she had a life to look forward to.

So Jezza couldn't blame her for not being scared, even as the Egyptian's sleek ships drew closer to the shore with every passing breath.

Fear was a thing of the past, born of fiery suns and metal collars and whispering, leather whips.

Only an eerie sense of calm remained, and this is what Jezza felt when she looked up and into the God King's eyes. 

Author's Note : 

Awww so it begins!!! We are finally getting into the good stuff and you guys are going to be meeting Adom and Ramses soon enough. Thanks so much to reading up until this point, and if you liked this chapter, don't forget to leave a vote and a comment.

Xoxo Queen Ameythyst