Pharaoh Sethe walked the perimeters of his magnificent palace, towering pillars casting shadows across his stone-hearted visage as the sun outlined the horizon, bright rays expelling against his eyelids, desert heat scorching golden skin. An aqua blue that resembled the shimmering, mystical Nile ran across his palace like the flow of the gods' most precious gift, the heart of Egypt. 

His dark eyes followed the  path they led, followed the stories that were inscribed into his halls, the legacies his ancestors left him and the traditions they burdened him to keep. No matter where Sethe ran off to, he was haunted by the gaze of his deceased father, the previous Pharaoh who left him more than he could ever ask for. 

Sethe sighed, back leaning against a pillar, as he took off his crowned veil, holding it in his hand in discontent. He wasn't ready to take on the obstacles of being Pharaoh, nor was he prepared for the look of awe in his people. His gaze wavered, and before he could stop himself, tears began to brim the corner of his eyes. 

He fiercely fought against the onslaught of emotions, breath escaping in short, choppy gasps, and voice choked in his own throat.

His father was gone, and the funeral preparations had been days ago, yet for the first time since taking the crown he felt free.

Sethe's eyes closed, chin tilted towards the skies as the dew of sunset splayed against his cheeks, crimson reddening from his temples and his body igniting to the flames of desert heat. The numbing heat seemed to soothe the cold tendrils of loneliness from his skin, cleansing Sethe in a way that the priestess never could. 

"Your Majesty," said a deep voice nearby. 

His eyes opened, seeing his Captain of Guards, Jabari patiently waiting his command. "Yes?" prompted Sethe, placing his crown back on his head. He exhaled deeply, momentarily forgetting the grief that etched his heart. "Is there an issue?"

Jabari bowed his head, pasty white skin reddening as he spoke softly. "The arrangements for tonight's banquet are nearly finished and many women from across the Empire and surrounding nations will be attending."

Sethe fought the urge to roll his eyes. How could he forget about forming alliances through numerous marriages? "I see," he said, straightening. "Well, open the gates for our visitors."

His guard looked astounded, blue eyes widening. "But, your Majesty, you are not properly prepared. The servants have not yet attended to you."

"I will make myself more presentable. Do not worry."

Although Sethe admired Jabari for his diligence and strict nature with the other guards, he had to admit that the rigid policies of etiquette that Jabari was groomed to implement irked Sethe at times. 

Egypt was very diverse, so it was not unusual to see blue-eyed servants or guards, nor was it strange to have a range of skin tones at the banquets and royal courts. His Empire was a center for many surrounding nations, and the diversity brought an affluent amount of wealth, prosperity, and ideas to his court. 

Jabari, however, was a young man not much older than Sethe, but talented in battle. As the son of a foreign adviser and his Greek concubine, Jabari had the pale skin of those outside of Egypt and eyes as vivid as the Nile. His dark, jet-black hair that fell to his neck were a sharp contrast to his features, and were a good competitor for the ladies' attentions. 

Though, Jabari had as much of a romantic bone as a pillar did. The previous Pharaoh saw his talent with a sword and wanted to place Jabari into the elite military branch, but Sethe and his younger brothers saw the intellectual spark in his eyes to know better.

They convinced their father to establish Jabari as head of the guards to ensure protection for the royal family in case of backstabbing traitors in the court. 

The thought of traitors brought a feeling of dread to the pit of his stomach. "Jabari, do you have any intel on the older advisers that my father kept?" he asked, lowering his voice. "I want to make sure every one of them is present tonight."

Jabari nodded. "They will be arriving with their choice of brides for you. I have already stationed the guards to block any exit."

"That will not be necessary."

"Pardon?"

Sethe smiled, wickedly. "Have faith in me, Jabari. They will get exactly what they deserve for sharing private information to our enemies."

At this, Jabari's lips quirked into a small smile. "May I ask about your plans for these men, Pharaoh?"

Sethe stared into the distance as the last wave of sun slipped past them. "They were the cause of my father's death, so they deserve to feel the wrath of the gods at my hands alone," he claimed, voice clipped and hard. He sought blood-thirsty vengeance. Breaking from his trance, Sethe turned to Jabari with a stern look. "Make sure you have ears everywhere tonight."

He nodded. 

Without another word, Sethe walked towards his chambers, head held high and eyes set on the unravelling of one of the biggest conspiracies Egypt had ever seen. Unlike the previous Pharaoh, Sethe did not use bloodshed early in his schemes, no, Sethe was patient and calculating in his affairs.

In order to truly bring justice, he would have to play the role of a promiscuous Pharaoh, a man that could strike fear in his enemies with a single glare, and had the charismatic allure that many craved after. For now, thought Sethe as he entered his room, I will need to set the pieces to my game.

* * * * 

Guests flooded the throne room as wine was tipped in a slur of drunken hazes, hooded eyes hungrily glancing at the foreign dancers with hips that circled the crowd in waves of awe, delight, and passion. The rapid strums of vessels pumping through the loud, chaotic banquet as whispers were disguised under the gowns of linen and silk, behind the curtains and under the moonlight. 

The dancers continued to shake their bodies to the beat, ample breasts barely covered by a sheer two strap and gold circling their ankles and wrists, clinking to the sound of ruby and emerald chalices, engraved by the finest jewelers in the region. Tan, sun-kissed skin glistening in a thin coating of sweat as the women continued to lure the feeble with a sway of their hips and the curve of their partially exposed backs.

With sultry eyes smudged with kohl and lips red with false desire, Sethe watched unsatisfied.

Sethe's visage masked the boredom he felt, but nonetheless he knew this was the type of banquet that allowed for whispers and schemes to slither into his hall. With Jabari's tactical planning, the guards would overhear snippets of the traitors' plan. They wanted to eradicate Sethe's dynasty. 

On the other hand, the potential brides stood near their sponsors, faces stoic with a traditional beauty, quiet, submissive, and more than willing to comply to any of Sethe's favor. Though they were silent, their eyes spoke the passion they longed to feel by living in the palace, by becoming the Egyptian Queen to fall back on a silk canopy of wealth, gold littering their bedsides and a palace worth more than anything the Europeans could ever pay for.

He knew he should have given the women more thought, but tonight his mind was elsewhere. Before the crown was forced upon his head, Sethe would have jumped at the opportunity to wed any of the world's finest women, but now all he saw were puppets in their eyes. Most of those women were part of the scheme, and he needed a woman that could play as a pawn and player on his side of the game.

"Your Majesty," whispered the royal adviser beside him. "The priestess has arrived to bestow blessings."

"Let her in."

Sethe ordered a pathway to form for the priestess as was custom. Not all priests were divine like the Pharaohs of their time, but many of the priests and priestesses underwent rigorous training to have access to the temples and to perform holy prayers. Sethe was not one to pay them too much attention. 

In his mind, the priests did their jobs to keep peace in the Empire while he did his. Granted, he followed the tradition of his father where a priest from the Temple of Amun would perform ritual prayers during festivities to maintain the peace and prosperity in Egypt. 

"Make way for Priestess Nyla from the Temple of Amun," announced the adviser, silencing the growing chaos. Many of his guests rolled their eyes at the disruption, but they said nothing, knowing how important the priestess's presence was. 

As men and women moved aside, bodies pushing against each other in the crowded room, soon their voice dulled to a swift silence, and drunken gazes could only widen at the woman who stepped into the hall, eyes darker than the night sky. 

Sethe straightened on his throne, feeling mystified by her spell like all the men in the room. 

His chest constricted painfully, hard, rigid muscles tensing throughout his body as his pulse quickened in anticipation. He was not sure how she usurped his thoughts with only her presence, but the slow, painful torture to be near her only grew. 

Her slim, white linen gown followed the ample, soft curve of her chest, held by two straps over her shoulders in a delicate one piece, a band at the cinch of her waist. The gown shimmered in dappled moonlight and hundreds of candles that filled the room, reflecting against the purity of her gown, of her essence. 

With eyes as dark and mysterious as nightfall and ebony, she lined them with black kohl, amplifying the crescent shape of mystical, out of this world eyes. There was a sparkle to her gaze, a hidden gem and a knowing tease that promised more for her admirers. The priestess was unaware of the awestruck expression of not only the other men but of the Pharaoh himself. 

From Sethe's view, he could appreciate the light tan of her skin, and the black braids that outlined a perfect, feminine jaw. The rest of her hair was let out in a straight cascade of black down her back, silky, smooth, and perfectly plated with beads, and opals that held a white veil to crown of her head, a veil many other priestesses also wore. 

Every step she took towards Sethe, another part of him wanted to claim her, wanted to keep her from the eyes of hungry men while knowing he was just as lustful as they were. However, Sethe kept his guard up, built the walls around his heart. 

If he wanted, he could have fun with her later.

* * * * 

Nyla knew she entranced the Pharaoh the minute she walked in, and the thought brought uncomfortable qualms to her. The head priestess was worried to send Nyla in her place due to the rumors that surrounded the new Pharaoh's parties when it came to women, but she had no choice. 

The head priestess was ill, and the Pharaoh waited for no one. 

Nyla had been orphaned for most of her life, but the high priestess was kind enough to provide her shelter at the temple along with many other children. As they grew, they became accustomed to the religious texts, to the scribes' notes about the gods and goddesses. She learned many rituals and prayers from all the time she spent in the temples.

Out of all the other young priestesses, she was the most experienced, hence why she was sent to the Pharaoh. She dared a glance at his Majesty, witnessing the harshness of his gaze as his pupils dilated the closer she walked. 

Nyla paused in front of him, quickly bowing at her hips, before she straightened, clearing her throat. This was an old, ancient prayer that she was taught and had memorized by heart, yet the words melted on her tongue as her eyes met his. 

She was lost. 

The abyss of a warm, brown heated her body from head to toe, the passion and desire that mingled in both their gazes and the undeniable string that pulled the cords of attraction closer together. Never had Nyla faced the Pharaoh at close proximity, and her heart longed for more time, to stare deeper into those eyes of his. 

He was beyond handsome. The rumors did him no justice. His sun-kissed skin was as radiant as the desert sun, his long, silky brown hair let loose down to his neck, and a bare chest that brought too many fantasies. 

How she wished-

Nyla quickly averted her gaze, knowing that her admiration for the Pharaoh was a test from the gods. She had to fulfill her duty. 

It was not unusual to see the Pharaohs with their hair let down. In very high class events, they would use a wig or towering crown to adorn themselves, but Pharaoh Sethe never had much care for traditions like those. She could tell from his casual attire at a banquet meant to form an alliance through marriage. 

Raising her hands, she began her prayer, feeling prying eyes on her. "Oh, great Amun, may you satisfy and bless the Pharaoh and his empire. May you protect our blessed empire from the Hittites and grant protection to our beloved Pharaoh. May you make him a pillar of strength and find him a wife to lead Egypt to victory," she proclaimed, eyes towards the sky. "Bless him, Amun. Protect and honor his legacy for all of Egypt one day. May tonight be the night that Egypt remembers the start of a new era under Pharaoh Sethe." 

Once the prayer was said, Nyla took a couple steps towards the Pharaoh, keeping her visage impassive as his gaze only grew in intensity and curiosity. A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips, long, slender fingers tapping against his throne and a sly look crossed his features. Nyla chose to ignore the smugness. 

She waved a hand around the Pharaoh. "May the gods always be with the heart of Egypt, our Pharaoh, our saviour," she whispered. 

His eyes sparked with amusement, and Nyla's fear grew. What is he planning?

Preparing to leave, Nyla began to ascend the steps, but a strong hand gripped her wrist, pulling her off her feet.

Everything happened so quickly that Nyla's mind couldn't even fathom the position that she landed in, right into the Pharaoh's lap and back pressed against the rigid muscles of his chest. His arm snaked around her small waist while the other rested on his throne. 

"Your M-Majesty," squeaked Nyla. "This is highly indecent. I must-"

The Pharaoh did not give her a moment to speak as his smooth, deep voice spoke to his guests. "This priestess shall accompany me for the night. The festivities may continue," he announced as his grip tightened. 

"Your Majesty, is this appropriate to do in front of all the advisers and governors?" asked his royal adviser. "Tonight is to form a political marriage for you."

Pharaoh Sethe tensed, his body taut with anger. "I am the great Pharaoh of Egypt, a descendant of the gods themselves," he snapped. "What I say, goes for every one. If I choose a companion then not even the gods can prohibit it."

Scared out of his wits, the royal adviser had nothing more to say, choosing his silence.

Nyla was alone on this one. 

She squirmed under his grip, struggling to break free. Gods, she thought, exasperated, how could I let this happen? The high priestess will be ashamed.

Pharaoh Sethe noticed her struggling, so he used his free hand to turn her cheek. "Now, priestess," he murmured, lips brushing against her shoulder, the strap of her dress between his teeth. "Struggling will not help you."

Her pulse quickened, breath uneven. "Why are you... doing this?" she choked. 

His eyes lifted to meet hers, hooded and full of desire. "Is it not obvious?" he asked, kissing the side of her neck. His lips, hot on her skin, left a sizzling trail and a wanton need to have more, an untold fantasy begging to be fulfilled. The forbidden became the wanted. "You desire me just as much as I desire you."

"You are wrong."

At this, the Pharaoh pulled away, smiling down at her. "You are a priestess from the Temple of Amun, are you not?"

She nodded, weary of his intentions. 

"The high priestess was unable to attend?"

"She is ill, your Majesty. She sent me instead," replied Nyla. 

She had no idea why she told him something he already knew. The Pharaoh was not surprised, but his wicked grin grew, a glint in those auburn eyes, the intensity of his gaze never wavering as his lips moved closer to her ears.

Nyla felt his hot breath fan against her cheeks, heat rising to her face, yet she sat motionless. The slightest movement would cause her body to move against his in a pleasurable but albeit dangerous way. She could not risk awakening the beast inside.

Pharaoh Sethe gently pulled at one of her braids. "So you have been kept away in a temple for all these years," he whispered huskily, "and not once did the high priestess decide to bring you to the palace in front of me."

"For good reason, your Majesty," she said, unable to stop her remarks. "Look at how you hold me in front of all your guests. If anything, this is truly indecent."

His chest rumbled with laughter, the sound vibrating against Nyla. "Indecent?" he asked, amused and voice full of jest. "How else could I claim you as mine?"

"I am a priestess from the Temple of Amun. I cannot be solely yours."

At this, the Pharaoh decided to be a little more aggressive in his statement of desires.

His guests eagerly glanced at them every so often, eyes wide with wonder. A few whispers spread around and jealous gazes from potential brides seemed to cut Nyla in half with their threatening nature.

She did not belong there.

Yet the Pharaoh refused to release her.

His lips found their way to her earlobe, gently pulling the delicate skin in between his teeth, nibbling and kissing the spot softly. A low moan escaped her.

Nyla froze. How could I make such a noise?

This only edged the Pharaoh on more. His hands began to roam her body discreetly trailing over her slim waist, the curve of her hips and adjusting Nyla until she sat right above the region he wanted, right where the heat of his body infiltrated the fortress of her purity.

Nyla could feel all the fury from across the room. These women worked hard on their appearance, and somehow while preforming her duties, Nyla managed to entice the Pharaoh.

How could she even refuse a man as powerful as him? He owned all of Egypt, including its inhabitants.

But she had to still try, still had to remember that she was representing a holy temple. She had to think of the high priestess.

"Your Majesty, please release me," she begged as he continued to kiss the length of her neck, a public claim to all others. "I came here to preform a ritual prayer. There are many women in this room who will be more than happy to comply-"

"Shh," he hushed her. "I chose you for a reason."

"What?"

She felt his body tense behind her. Nyla could not see his expression, but she felt the coldness in his touch, the withdrawn nature of his body as some other dark thought controlled him.

There was more to his choosing than she thought.

His voice lowered. "I want you in my chambers tonight."

Nyla opened her mouth to protest.

"That is an order," he said sternly, leaving no room for arguments. "I would hate to punish a beautiful woman like yourself."

His finger twirled her braid as his hand smoothed the creases to her gown. The weight of words hung in the air, the hidden threat left open like a book.

She swallowed her fear. "Yes, your Majesty."

"Good. Now be still or else I cannot promise to keep my hands to myself."

It was then that Nyla truly realized that she was done for.

----

Wow, it's been quite some time since my last short story. Y'all I've been dying to write about Ancient Egypt. THERE IS JUST SO MUCH TO WRITE ABOUT AND THE CULTURE IS RICH WITH HISTORY.

Also, I've been watching too much Yu-Gi-Oh, but like we don't talk about that.

Anyway, what are your thoughts on the Pharaoh and maybe what might happen next? ;)

This short story will be updated every Saturday, and will have either three or four chapters that are each about 3,000 to 4,000 words.

Don't forget to vote, comment, and follow!