"Your Majesty, Exalted King, some of the congregation sent to Egypt have returned to the city."

Mursili, raising his hazel gaze from the architectural designs of his new stables, grunted with displeasure.

"They are late."

The older courtier gulped the bile that had risen in his throat. It was not uncommon for his king to be in a sour mood, but the suddenness of which it could turn was what unnerved him the most.

"There has been unfavourable weather within the Sinai, my liege," he offered, shrinking back into himself when the King shot daggers in his direction.

"Where are they now?"

"A little beyond the Lion Gates, Your Majesty."

"Did they procure a particular box of note?"

The old man was lucky to have caught onto the meaning of his king's words, for having hesitated a moment longer could have cost him his head.

"Yes, Your Majesty. I believe it is the reason for their return. Shall I call upon the Princess' family? As tradition states, they are to be present at the presentation of the marital sheet."

Mursili shrivelled his nose but gave a nod.

"Was there any news from the princess herself?" He then asked as the old man was making his leave.

The old courtier gulped, then. "That, my liege, I am not aware of."

The displeasure with this notion darkened the king's hazel orbs. "Fine. Now be gone."

It was a little after sunset by the time the small contingent arrived in the grand halls of Büyükkale.

Mursili was now adorned in all his people's regal finery; a maroon-dyed cotton dress chequered with cream and gold squares with a sash of the finest golden silk from the orient wrapped around his waist. Upon his broad shoulders, he wore a cotton shawl of gold, maroon and black hues clasped at the front with a golden brooch of an Anatolian sphinx.

Sitting silently beside him was the Queen adorned in similar colours. Yet, shrouding her lovely face was a veil of maroons and golds. Her husband did not like others gazing upon her despite his often sauntering elsewhere.

"Look at how the brute veils Matanazza like that. She must be suffocating!" Puduhepa lamented to herself as she stood by her husband and sons.

"The bastard will not be doing so for much longer, mother," Tudhaliya, her eldest son, muttered in response. Nerikkaili, the second eldest, grumbled his agreement.

"Indeed, but my beloved sons, we must continue to still ourselves. Your father has many allies, but we must continue to exalt the great goddess so that she may bring our plans to fruition when the time is right."

Tudhaliya sighed and nodded, his grey eyes like those of his mother, shimmering hues of auburn from the nearby brazier light.

"But now the contingent has returned from Egypt with our sister's marital bed sheet. She will be humiliated and shamed! We cannot stand for this! Only the gods know what may have happened to her upon the Pharaoh finding out she is not pure!"

"The Pharaoh is a reasonable man," Hattusili finally broke his brooding silence.

"Far more so than your cousin. Though we have received no news from Mala herself yet, we have also not received any news that misfortune has befallen her, which I am certain would have reached our ears by now if such were to have happened. Ramses would be a damned fool to bring upon her any harm. Our alliance relies upon his union to her, and I am certain he is more than well aware of that... unlike this one," his steeled gaze turned up to the thrones where his nephew was awaiting.

"We have friends in many places, my son," he continued, "even amongst those you would least expect. You know this. I am sure my little birds within the returning retinue have brought word from Mala. When they have the opportunity to fly from the coop, they will come to us."

A scheming grin crossed Tudhaliya's strong features, and he nodded at his father's words, feeling a renewed sense of confidence fill his very being.

"Exalted King of a thousand lions, he who is blessed by Hanwasuit, Shaushka and Zababa, your humble subjects have returned to Hattusa from the land of your brother, Usermaatre Setepenre Ramses, the Pharaoh of Egypt."

Mursili stood, motioning with his giant paw for the small retinue of men to come forth.

"Hattusa honours your arrival!" He opened his arms in a welcoming manner to usher the men to the dais. "I pray that your journey was not too arduous to endure."

"We came upon some unfavourable weather, my liege, but nothing we could not endure for the sake of the empire."

Mursili smiled at this and stroked the tassels of his beard, content with the dignitary's choice of words.

"Come, tell us what news comes from our allies in Egypt," he felt a bitter taste form in his mouth at having to use such words.

"We have been gifted with vessels of the finest wines from the royal vineyards, my King, and a dozen of the Pharaoh's finest stallions. Furthermore, as a gesture of goodwill and friendship, they sent us a chest of twenty-four thousand shena of gold."

The bile in his mouth stung at his throat as his eyes widened.

"Twenty-four thousand shena?" He repeated, his voice bristled. "An obvious flaunt of their wealth!" He mumbled silently to himself, forcing an appreciative smile.

"That is quite the gesture indeed! We are humbly thankful for their generosity," he turned to once more seat himself upon his throne.

"And what of Hattusa's beloved princess, my dear cousin Malawashina? Or, what is it the Egyptians call her now, Maathorneferure? How does she fare in their distant land of the Nile?"

"She fares exceptionally well, Your Majesty," the lead dignitary responded. "She sends her love to the Empire and her king."

"No direct word from her?" Mursili's voice darkened.

The dignitary shook his head humbly, "I am afraid not, my liege."

Upon seeing the irked twitch in his king's eye, the dignitary motioned for a small jewelled chest to be brought forward, his voice more cheerful to soften the king's sudden sour demeanour.

"We do, however, have in our possession the chest which contains within the marital sheet of their joining," he offered, prostrating himself lower.

This information piqued Mursili's interest, and a sly grin slid across his bearded features. His seemingly triumphant expression riled Malawashina's family, yet they unwillingly held their composure.

Mursili held out his hand as the chest was passed, his eyes glittering in excited anticipation. He paused as he gazed at the intricate latch carved from ivory. Should he still open the chest, knowing the truth of what lay within? He looked over at Hattusili, whose violet gaze was piercing him. Grinning indignantly, Mursili slowly opened the latch, reaching in to pull out the neatly folded sheet of linen.

With one swift sweep of his arm, he flicked out the sheet before him, the smug grin across his face widening as he did.

Much to his dismay, however, did the hall erupt in cheers and applause.

A large and indistinguishable dark stain of dried crimson was upon the middle of the bleached sheet.

The horrified shock on his face almost outmatched that of his uncle.

"Impossible!" Hattusili hissed under his breath so only his family members would hear. "Mala wouldn't lie about such a thing! That is not how we raised her!"

"No, she would not; She did not," Puduhepa agreed. Then, a placid smile settled upon her face. "Be merry, for this is a time of great joy.

"My lords, my lady?" Came a voice from behind them.

Turning, they faced a servant holding a tray of wine chalices and a small amphora.

"May I offer you some wine?"

"Now is not the time for wine," grumbled Nerikkaili at him.

"Oh, my Lord Nerikkaili, but I insist."

As Nerikkaili went to bark at the poor boy to leave them be, Tudhaliya took his brother gently by the arm.

"Thank you, we will all take a cup."

Nerikkaili looked at them, confused, as the servant began to pour the wine. With a smile and a nod, the boy handed a golden, wide-rimmed chalice to Hattusili first.

When the boy left without a word, Hattusili began gently twirling the wine within the chalice, tracing his fingers around the foot of the cup.

"Father?" Nerikkaili questioned, befuddled.

When Hattusili found what he had been looking for, he smiled and winked at his son.

Nerikkaili's eyes widened as his father procured a small, intricately folded piece of parchment from under the cup.

Taking a swig of the wine, Hattusili hid the paper in his garments, using his drinking to hide what he was truly doing.

"Mala?" Nerikkaili mouthed silently. Puduhepa simply nodded as she placed her now drained cup onto a nearby table,  Mursili clearing his throat loudly to regain the attention of those in the hall.

"What great news that our beloved Princess Malawashina is pure of mind and body! Of course, we expected much from her! We must celebrate her successful union with the land of Egypt!" He called out, bile rising in his throat again as the hall burst into applause.

"Now, please excuse me, as your king needs to piss like a horse."

Mursili waited until he was far from the hall before he let out a roar of rage, heaving a nearby vase at the tiled wall by him. He was thankful at that moment that most of the palace guards were still in the hall, and his breath heaved with annoyance.

"What did that little conniving bitch conjure? There is no way in all the heavens that she could have pulled such a stunt on her own," he hissed through gritted teeth.

"Ramses would have known! He must have known! What are they forging in those deceiving minds of theirs?"

"M...majesty, is everything well?" Came a meek voice from nearby.

Spinning on his heels, Mursili was faced with a young servant woman, her entire countenance frightened of the beast towering before her.

"What are you doing here and not serving the guests in the hall, slave?" Mursili barked at her.

"I...I was not assigned to the great hall this evening, Lord of lords," she answered, her voice shaking. "I was to upkeep the guest rooms, which is what I have been doing, Sire. But then I heard a loud crash, and I came to investigate and..."

"Very well!" Mursili cut her off, grumbling. "Get back to your chores."

Curtsying, the young woman turned to bolt.

"Stop!" Mursili snapped, causing her to freeze where she stood.

The young woman blinked, confused.

"Thanks to that bitch, Malawashina," he grumbled angrily, almost to himself, his eyes piercing the girl, "You are going to take my cock like the good little slut you are!" The slave had no time for protest, for her king took her by the upper arm and dragged her away.

Matanazza hastily covered her mouth with the draping sleeves of her shawl to prevent vomit from escaping. Such as it were, her heart was sickened at hearing such words coming from her husband's mouth and the proceeding screams of the slave as he had his way with her in the distance. Only the gods knew how many times she had overheard... that.

She pressed harder into the tiled pillar she hid behind and took deep breaths to calm herself. The disgusting pig of a man labelled 'king' continued to treat the palace servants as terribly as he did to her. To him, his queen - a lady of noble birth and lineage - was nothing more than the dirt beneath his sandals. As were all his subjects... It abhorred her that he would continue to treat all beneath him as such. His divine parents, the Grand King Muwatalli and his blessed queen Tanu-Hepa, may the gods keep them, were pure of heart, warm, and just. How could they have possibly conceived such a monstrous creature? Surely the gods would not have cursed their lineage!

She felt tears burn in her eyes, her stomach weighing heavily at such thoughts.

Her insides twisted even more severely with his continuous lusting for his cousin, Malawashina.

Why could such infatuation not be directed at his true queen? She had given him everything, sacrificed all for his pleasure and desires. Yet he always lusted for her, was always obsessed and infatuated with her!

Indeed, Malawashina was as pure as sunlight and stunning like a polished jewel... but was not his queen also?

Matanazza sighed and dabbed her eyes once more. She could not be jealous of the poor princess, who was forced into Egypt and the hands of a possibly worse tyrant.

She knew well how her 'husband' had treated Malawashina in the past, and what had forced her parents to keep him far away. It was the main reason her father, the General, had petitioned so strongly to the Pharaoh of Egypt to take her as a bride; the alliance between their nations was but only a convenient part of the true reasoning.

If she were to be jealous of Malawashina, it would be only because she could escape this court and not because the king was lusting after her. Still, something hard and bitter coiled in her stomach, making it hard to breathe. Is it too early to have another cup of wine this eve? She thought to herself. She could really use one now.

"M...majesty?" Came a small, anxious voice from nearby.

Turning, the Queen's eyes darted through the darkening hallway until they fell upon the shy figure hiding behind the column near her.

"Come, show yourself, do not be afraid," she offered gently.

The young boy crept out from the darkness, "I have this for you, my Queen," he held up the small piece of parchment he had been clutching.

She took it from his reach and examined it. No seal was present.

"Who is it...?" But the boy was already gone. Raising her brows, the Queen looked down at the small, neatly folded note and opened it curiously. She did not recognise the handwriting, but she certainly recognised the message, for it was not the first of its kind.

"Meet me thus within the hour. Thy usual place."

Notes:

Hanwasuit – The goddess of the throne and other implements of Hittite kingship. Mortal kings derived their divine right to rule specifically from this goddess.

Zababa – The Hittite god of war, called Astabis by the Hurrians. He carried an eagle-headed staff and had many of the same attributes as the Akkadian god Ninurta. Zababa was a staunch ally of the storm god Tarhun and aided him in his battle with the basalt giant Ullikummi.

Shaushka - The Hittite equivalent of the Babylonian goddess Ishtar. Shaushka was a goddess of beauty, love and fertility but could be quick to anger and was dangerous when thus enraged. She had wings and traditionally rode a large lion. Shaushka successfully seduced Hedammu to defeat him through treachery but the stone giant Ullikummi proved immune to her charms.

Shena - a term used to measure the value of gold, copper and silver which started from the beginning of the New Kingdom to sometime during the 19th dynasty. One deben (a measurement of weight) equalled about 12 shena. One deben during the Rammeside period was anywhere between 12-27g in weight.