The servants had vigorously scrubbed the grand dining hall from one end to the other, washing away any trace of the previous evening's revelries. The marble floor gleamed as she stepped in, and she wondered if the previous night's feast had all been but a dream.

As her weary people and their exhausted Egyptian counterparts slowly filed into the hall, Malawashina watched their disheveled appearances. Their faces bore the marks of fatigue and hangover. All except for the Minister, who looked remarkably fresh and radiant, like the very sun that bathed them in its warm embrace. Sunlight streamed through the skylights in the high ceiling, casting golden rays that illuminated the tables they were being seated at. However, the expressions on the faces of most present revealed their longing to retreat into darkness, away from prying eyes. Malawashina, however, was thankful for their weariness and hoped that in their current hungover states, they had forgotten the events of the previous night. Her own memory was hazy, yet an intense uneasiness gnawed at her gut, and not because of her own hangover.

Yet, the Minister... Was he truly like a god, unaffected by alcohol? And where was the Prince? He was now absent presence.

They repeated the seating arrangement from the previous night on this morning. Malawashina's cheeks burned with a hot flush at hearing this from her mother, who promptly told her to behave.

"A perfect morning to you, Princess."

Why is the Minister's voice not afflicted at all? The thoughts ran through Malawashina's mind as she blinked at him, a bright halo of light encompassing him as the sun's rays struck him directly from behind. Is this, too, a dream? She could feel the lingering warmth of his lips upon her throat once more.

"Did you sleep well?"

His question resonated in her ears. She had slept somewhat uneasily, all because of him.

"Quite fine, my Lord," she answered with lowered eyes. "I pray you did as well. Is the Prince alright? I do not see him present."

The Minister chuckled and covered his mouth with his hand to hide his grin. "I apologise, but the young Prince is... rather indisposed this morning and will be unable to join us. He will join us in the afternoon for lunch, however."

"The poor boy is far too young to have been drinking so much." The words slipped from her mouth, and she quickly bowed her head in apology.

"Forgive me; I spoke out of line...."

"It is alright, your Highness," his emerald gaze glimmered brightly, unaffected by her words. "I could actually say the same thing about you. However, at least you are able enough to be here."

"I may have to ask everyone to whisper now, though," she admitted meekly.

"Ah, that bad, is it?" He lowered his voice to an almost whisper.

She nodded nervously before continuing, "Forgive me if I did or said anything... uncouth and out of character."

The warmth of his smile outdid that of the sun. Now his tone became one of a whisper. "No, not at all, Princess. You were quite delightful."

Packing her clothes was always a dreadful affair. She knew she could easily set Utati and one of the other servant girls to the task, but she was always particular about how and where things were meant to be. Packing always meant that goodbyes were inevitable, too. The mere thought of leaving her homeland loomed over her head like a vulture. It would not stop availing her until it picked every ounce of flesh from her bones.

Her farewells to her father and siblings had been unbearable enough. Now, she felt her heart growing heavy within her chest, like a weight had been placed upon it, threatening to crush her very essence. The thought of bidding farewell to her mother, the pillar of strength and wisdom in her life, was enough to bring tears to her eyes. She had always turned to her mother in times of uncertainty, seeking solace and guidance in her tender embrace. How would she cope without her mother there by her side to guide her? As she contemplated the days ahead, without her mother's comforting presence, a knot formed in her stomach, twisting and turning with anxiety. The mere thought of the Pharaoh's wives turning against her sent shivers down her spine. Perhaps they were cunning and manipulative, always vying for their monarch's favor, as she had witnessed such vindictiveness before within her cousin's harem. Who could she trust in such treacherous surroundings? Soon to be without her mother's wise counsel, she felt adrift in a sea of confusion, desperately searching for an anchor to steady her wavering thoughts.

She could feel the sweat trickling down her forehead, mingling with the tears that threatened to spill over. The internal battle waged within her, torn between the relief of escaping one monster and the terrifying prospect of encountering another. It was a cruel twist of fate to be caught between the jaws of such uncertainty.

As she contemplated the possibility of the Pharaoh himself being a monster, the very thought of being trapped once more, this time in the clutches of a more powerful and vicious creature, sent another shiver down her spine. The chequered tiles of the floor beneath her feet seemed to sway, as if mocking her fragile state of mind.

Stumbling out to her balcony, she clasped the stone of the parapet before her. The urge to surrender to the depths below tugged at her, beckoning her to end the torment of her thoughts. The abyss seemed like a sanctuary, a respite from the overwhelming doubts that threatened to consume her mind. But a flicker of determination ignited within, fueled by the possibility that the Minister's words were nothing more than a facade.

Straightening herself with her new resolve, she refused to let her fears dictate her actions. If the Minister had indeed deceived her, then she would face the Pharaoh head-on, armed with the strength of her own convictions. The thought of standing up to the supposed monster, challenging his authority and unraveling the web of lies, sparked a flicker of defiance within her.

With a deep breath, she steadied herself, wiping away the traces of tears that had escaped her eyes. The doubts still lingered, but she would not allow them to consume her.

Utati, having witnessed her mistress' sudden departure, cautioned to approach her and tap her on the shoulder.

Malawashina spun then, almost hitting the poor girl. "Utati!" She gasped. "I did not hear you come!"

The young girl furrowed her brow in concern. "Are you alright, Princess?" The young girl asked, furrowing her brow in concern.

"I assure you, I am alright. It is just this headache," Malawashina reassured, her smile weak.

Utati sighed. She knew her mistress to be lying. "I have brought you these," she offered her mistress a small silk pouch of dried herbs and flowers. "They will calm your mind and your stomach."

Malawashina blinked as she stared at the purple silk. "Are they from my mother? Is she that worried about me?"

"One of the Egyptians brought it."

She could only guess who the anonymous sender was. Yet, her heart felt weighted at the mere thought. Was there something he was trying to achieve?

"I will brew some tea with them for you. It worked wonders for the Prince. He is apparently quite perky now." Utati chirped before letting escape a girlish giggle. "I bet he was cute when he was drunk!"

Malawashina eyed her younger friend with a raised brow. "He was... charming."

Utati giggled once more. "You must allow me to have a closer look at him."

"Utati..." Malawashina warned. "The Prince may already have a betrothed," Malawashina warned. "Being the heir to the throne, I am most certain of it."

Utati huffed. "But it is alright for you to fawn over the Minister! He is married and with children, and you are betrothed to the Pharaoh!"

Her words pierced Malawashina's inflated heart like a well-aimed arrow. The Princess sighed and nodded. "Forgive me. It's not right for me to be so hypocritical. I just wanted to... I am so worried and afraid, Utati," her tone was low as she worried.

"Do you believe Pharaoh will be as horrid and wretched as your cousin?"

Malawashina lowered her gaze and fiddled with the purple silk pouch.

"I... I do not know."

"If he is as honourable and respectful and handsome as the Minister, then surely you have no reason to worry...."

"But what if it is all but a facade to keep me pliable until I am in Pharaoh's bed?" She fretted, tears of worry springing to her eyes.

"Yet, he seemed genuinely kind, as did the Pharaoh's son. The young Prince is my age. Why would someone my age join in a facade to fool you? We are far too innocent for that," she smiled sweetly in reassurance.

Malawashina could not help but chuckle, despite the fear still grasping her mind.

"Innocent in virtue only!"

"So are you!" Utati quipped, poking out her small tongue teasingly. Alas, Malawashina's stomach twisted at her words.

"If you truly decide that you dislike Pharaoh's bed so much, you can always come to join me in mine," the younger girl offered. "We can chat all night long until the morning birds bid us sleep."

"Oh, I would truly adore that." The Princess went to embrace her closest confidant. Yet, no sooner had their arms wrapped warmly around each other was there a light rapping at the door. Utati immediately went to the door to receive their guest or shoo them away, depending on who it was to be.

"My Lady!" the young girl gasped, almost tripping on her bare feet.

Puduhepa arched one of her finely plucked eyebrows at the young girl. "Why so surprised, young Utati?" She questioned.

The young servant gulped the bile that had surged in her throat. Then, without answering, she bowed apologetically and, opening the door wide, stepped aside to let her lady enter.

Puduhepa strode past the servant girl straight to her daughter, her hands clasped together, a soft smile upon her face. One could barely notice the creases of age at the corners of her lips. So youthful was she, only the silver strands that highlighted her wisdom gave a sign of her years.

"Will you leave me alone with my daughter, Utati?"

Utati immediately complied, backing out of the now-opened door with a bowed head before closing it gently after her.

"And away from the door, Utati!" Puduhepa called. Malawashina chuckled to herself when they both heard the shuffling from behind the door and hastened footsteps as they fled the outside hall. Then, giving a slight shake of her head, the jewels that hung from her tiara tinkling as she did so, Puduhepa turned back to her daughter. "I hope that your packing has been coming along well, my darling," her smile was gentle and serene, hiding the heartache behind the facade of optimism.

The Princess could no longer build up the walls around her emotions. Just looking at her mother sent a wave of despair to engulf her. "Oh, mother, I do not wish to leave you," she wept relentlessly into her mother's fine linen robes.

Puduhepa's jaw quivered at the display before her, but she steeled her resolve and stroked her daughter's raven hair reassuringly. "My child, all will be well. You will have a splendid life in Egypt...."

"But what if I do not?" Malawashina countered as she wailed.

"What if they all snub me because I am a foreigner?" What if they try to rub my face into the dirt like some common whore? What..." She gulped, for her following words stuck to her throat like thorns.

"Then you will stand up and walk further with your head high, for dirt is sacred to Egyptians. Dirt fertilises their lands after the inundation of the Nile. A mound of dirt is where their great god, Amun, created the earth and all living things. You, Malawashina, are a proud daughter of Hattusa! Wear that as armour, and nothing can touch you."

"But what if he is like Mursili... or worse...." Malawashina lowered her eyes. "No form of amour can protect me from that," she muttered.

"Do you wish to spend your last moments with me talking about that buffoon, Mursili? If your mind is troubled by your behaviour yesterday at the feast, then I can tell you that the Minister is not at all offended."

Malawashina hiccuped a sob as she flushed. "That is indeed pleasing news... but... oh, mother, I feel so frightened," she wept again.

"Your fear is understandable, my child. You are leaving everything familiar to you to live in a foreign country. But, trust me, my dear, you will find your place there. And besides," her mother smiled then, "There are still ways of correspondence."

"Which I will use as often as possible," her daughter answered adamantly.

"And I shall wait with eager anticipation." Puduhepa leaned forward to kiss her daughter softly on her forehead. "No one can know the future absolute. But one day, I may have the chance to visit you in Egypt."

"And I shall wait for that time with equally eager anticipation."

Puduhepa wiped the tears from her daughter's face with her thumbs and smiled lovingly before looking towards the door. "You can come in now, Utati."

Malawashina blinked and stared at the door as it slowly, albeit hesitantly, creaked open.

In slinked Utati, her head bowed in shame, her eyes lowered.

Puduhepa, shaking her head, turned back to her daughter. "Rest well, the both of you. Tomorrow shall be a taxing day." She stood as she spoke and leaned down again to kiss her daughter on the crown of her head. Turning, she then walked to Utati, who, seeing her mistress approach her through her down-turned lashes, turned to stone.

Puduhepa took the young girl by the ear and tugged her hard. "The Egyptians may cut off your ears for eavesdropping, Utati. So, you should be on your best behavior. Only the gods know how they will whip you for your naughtiness!"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Good." Puduhepa then patted the young girl on the head; she had a fondness for the girl. "Make sure you keep Mala away from the beer," and with those words, she left.

Heat rose rapidly into Malawashina's cheeks at her mother's words.

Utati blinked and turned to the Princess. "What is beer?"