As Ahkmenrah was being fairly trampled by the crowd Shepseheret caught the sight of Khufu edging slightly away from them, a certain malice in his eyes as he gazed at Ahkmenrah. She had never really thought of him as much of a threat, but now it all made sense. She had no doubt that he had killed her son and husband.

"Khufu..." she said quietly, his head whipped around to face her.

"My lady?" He questioned.

"I want you to investigate this attempted poisoning." She told him. "You are after all our family's most trusted advisor," she injected enough pleading and enough desperation in her tone to make it sound believable, but there was a certain truth to her next words "...I can't lose another son."

Khufu nodded.

"I shall do so immediately." He answered. "If I have your leave that is..."

"Go forth" She told him. "I expect the culprit on his knees by a fortnight."

She didn't fear for her son's safety now. The viper was in her hands.

—————

This is glory. Thought Ahkmenrah.

It wasn't wings of gold or endless mountains or tragedies with silver linings. It wasn't great statues or monuments. It was a breathless feeling and the throng of the crowd around him. It was the sweat, the vomit, the blood, the tears and the squalor and through it all was the flaming feeling of victory that scorched his mind.

He did not know why but somehow through this, he had won their trust. Perhaps they hadn't hated him after all but only doubted his dedication. Or perhaps it was the fact that he was reviving the old traditions which had livened their spirits. Or maybe it was the fact that he put his life on the line, he placed it in the hands of the gods, to win their trust and he had won it, despite the odds.

There was plenty of kisses, hands touching him as if he were a god. For the first time, he felt truly complete. He couldn't explain it. It was as if this was his destiny. As if this Heb-Sed cemented his kingship and brought him closer to his destiny on a spiritual level. It seemed the spirit had infected the crowd as well.

Perhaps he thought The Heb-Sed had some ancient mystical significance in the Duat, a real significance that helped the King gain strength and trust with his people, which is why I craved it so.

He felt as if he was drowning in the excitement of the people if one could drown in pleasure. He turned to his mother who smiled back at him. It took him a few good minutes to extricate himself from the crowd, but soon enough he was next to her and Ramses. He held out his hands to hold his nephew.

The baby scrunched up his nose and started crying.

"Not until you've had a bath!" reprimanded Shepseheret.

Ahkmenrah grinned, he felt like a child again.

—————

Sabra had been glad that she didn't have to kill him. She had been even gladder that he had survived the assassination attempt. Gladder yet when the crowd swarmed him with pure adoration. She paced the room. She had been given one in the palace, though she had resisted. There was to be feasting and banqueting, fine foods and fine dancing. And she dreaded it.

For one it brought back memories. Then there was the fact that she didn't really have fine clothes.

"You aren't going in that are you?" Asked Shepseheret incredulously.

Sabra turned unsurprised. The royal family, it seemed had a habit of sneaking up on people.

"I am the General of Generals." She answered looking down at her attire of leather and white linen.

"But you are also a woman."

"I'd look hideous in a dress."

"Have you ever worn one?"

Sabra paused. Once, long ago, in a far-off time, a far-off place. She was a little girl, in a white slip darting barefoot between the reeds. The sunshine had shone in veins and her eyes had sparkled with the light of a thousand stars.

"Yes." She answered. "It was long ago."

"Well...I had thought this might be so. Therefore I selected one from my own wardrobe."

"You didn't have..."

"Nonsense!" Huffed Shepseheret. "You are practically my daughter..."

Shepseheret took her hands and led her to what had once been the chamber that the king and queen had shared. Sabra stood in the room taking it in. It was beautiful, lacquered and accented with gold. Shepseheret emerged holding a dress of blue and a seperate gold and blue netting.

"Would you let me dress you?" Asked Shepsehret.

"It would be for the best." Answered Sabra flustered at the attention. "I wouldn't know how to wear it and I might make a fool of myself."

She felt herself blush.

"Come now, no need to feel any embarrassment," Shepseheret assured. "I was just like you."

"Really?"

"I was the daughter of Huni." Informed the Queen. "All I knew were shirts, kilts, and armor. On my wedding day, your aunt Seknut had laughed at my incompetence in dressing myself."

"That sounds just like her." Said Sabra smiling.

"Are you going to get out of those clothes or do I have to force them off you?"

Suddenly Sabra felt like a little girl, in her slip of a dress running through the mud, her mother chasing after her. She felt like running again. But she obeyed Shepseheret obediently and placed her clothes at the foot of the bed.

"These scars?" Asked Shepseheret.

Sabra had forgotten the scars that marked her body.

"They are relics of the past." She told the queen boldly.

Shepseheret nodded and placed the dress over her head. It was looser than what most women wore. The blue fabric was comfortable the upper edge ended just below her breasts, but the straps the held them up were just wide enough to cover them, but not entirely so leaving the sides exposed. Though she wouldn't have particularly cared if they were bare, as women sometimes wore them, she had never been afraid of showing some skin. They dress ended at her ankles. The fine golden net that ended at her thighs and was embellished with blue stones was placed over it. Finally, a sash was tightened around her waist. Her hair was loosened. There was no jewelry or makeup added. Yet in the end, Sabra decided she couldn't part with her sword so she strapped it to her waist.

"Is it done?" Asked Sabra.

"Yes. Would you like to look at yourself?"

Sabra nodded. A little nervous though she trusted the Queen. She looked at the copper mirror, what she saw wasn't just a warrior but a warrior woman. One could perhaps say for the first time she even looked...

"Beautiful..." whispered Shepseheret. "Almost like a...Queen."

"What will you be wearing?" Asked Sabra fighting her embarrassment.

"Purple." Answered Shepseret. "Merenkahre loved that color."

—————

Ahkmenrah didn't drink. The wine and alcohol haunted him. He busied himself instead with the fine food, the delegation and the commons who had come. He had made sure that today there was plentiful food (rich enough for a banquet) to be sent out to all the city. In effect, the whole city was feasting tonight. He had also sent over grain, from the palace's own treasury (he had, in fact, emptied it) to be distributed throughout Egypt along with the reports of his race and the assassination attempt.

He talked to many people that evening nonetheless he felt lonely. Banquets had usually been a source of joy for he would be with Kahmunrah. They would be daring each other to do the most outrageous things, drinking together, laughing together, eating together. His heart ached for those sweet moments.

He edged his way to the table and plucked a fig from the dish. He put it in his mouth, which was a terrible mistake, he soon found himself choking on it because before his eyes stood Sabra her armed entwined with his mother's. She looked more beautiful than ever. They had just entered the hall.

He composed himself and greeted them like any benevolent host.

"I'll take over the hosting from here." Offered Shepseheret.

"Mother..."

"Enjoy yourself Ahk." She told him the turning to Sabra she said "Sabra dear look after him for me. He's prone to trouble, always had been as a child."

"Mother!"

"Don't mother me!" Scolded the Queen.

With that, she left him smiling. He was wearing his father's cape of blue with the sun disk on it, once again. They matched, both blue and gold. They didn't know it, but both were wearing the coronation clothes of a king and queen.

—————

"Just like old times." Smiled Ahkmenrah, once his mother left, he was now looking at Sabra.

With that look, he drunk her in. The pride in her stance. The sides of her supple breasts that were visible. The strength in her arms. Her neck, her back, her figure. Her smile. But mostly her eyes. They shone with a brightness he hadn't seen for a long time. He felt himself falling for her all over again.

"It does feel like old times." She mused. "You trying to get into trouble, me being your every trusting bodyguard and saving your ass."

"I trust you." Said Ahkmenrah. "But it seems like you don't trust me."

She quirked an eyebrow. "How so?"

"I know nothing about you." He said. "They say trust goes both ways."

The light in her eyes dimmed. He was sad to see it go.

"Later?" She said. "I promise I will tell but not now. It's too much." She looked around nervously "I guess I can tell you one thing, I don't particularly like feasts or banquets or parties."

"Why not?"

"My whole village was killed in one of those."

"You were the lone survivor?"

"Yes."

He paused.

"Maybe we can try to replace these memories with new more exciting ones." He breathed. "But if it...if it gets too much just let me know, and both of us can get out of here and-"

He was cut off when she held his grabbed his hand and grinned up at him. He felt like he was flying.

"Lead the way," she told him.

So he did as she ordered. He introduced her to the guests and showed her all the fine foods and exotic delicacies. Her eyes, those bright blue eyes, glittered with mirth.

As the night drew on a new guest was introduced. They said he was a flamethrower, the best of his kind. (more description) He threw flames and manipulated them like he was the god of fire himself. In the midst of the performance, felt Sabra's hand tense. She was sweating.

"Sabra..."

She said nothing, she let go of his hand and ran past the crowd out into the palace grounds.

He thought it would have been rude of him to leave in the midst of the performance, so he waited till it ended, congratulating the man, and offering him a decent amount of gold. But he was impatient to go. Once he felt like it was alright he rushed out of the door. He didn't have to go far. She standing beside a column, looking at the rain.

It was raining. In his fit of passion, he hadn't even realized it was raining outside. Heavily and thunderously at that.

"Sabra." He said once he was close enough.

She turned to face him.

"Ahk...you should go back to the party," she said curtly.

How can I? He thought. When the life of the party is right here.

"What happened back there?" He asked.

She didn't speak for a good five minutes, but when she did her voice was low, controlled, cold, calculating and aloof like she was holding something in. It reminded him of when they first met. She was, he realized, quite good at hiding her emotions.

"They all died in a fire." She said. Six words but they were everything he needed to know. "I'm sorry, it's silly of me I know, it was six years ago, yet..."

"It's not silly." He assured her. He took her hands in his. "In twenty years, I know I will still be screaming Kahmunrah's name in my dreams. I will still be wondering if I could save him. These aren't petty nothings Sabra, we have both faced storms."

"I have waited for many of these storms to pass."

"That Sabra is where you are going wrong." He said, he was smiling. "Father always said life isn't about waiting for storms to pass." He looked out at the heavy rain outside he found himself letting go of Sabra's hand. "It's learning to dance in the rain."

Sabra saw the direction his body was going and frowned. He was taking off his cloak a crown and he stood before her in just his blue kilt. His torso gleamed in the torchlight. His hair, wild long curls, were in dissarray. He was stepping toward the rain.

"You can't be serious?"

He let his smile turn mischievous,

"Practical lessons are how most people learn best." he answered. 

Soon he felt the water shattered against his body, he stood for a minute or so looking up at the sky in wonder. Before he raced back to Sabra and pulled her towards the rain.

"Ahk..." She warned resisting his hold. "I'll ruin your mother's dress."

"Those dresses never get ruined, there's no mud here anyway." Indeed there was only sandstone and marble at their feet. "Come on! It will be fun!"

"You and I have a very different idea of-"

She never finished her sentence for Ahkmenrah pulled her violently into the rain.

"Ahk!" She cried out.

She looked up at him, livid. Even so she couldn't help but admire the way he smiled back at her, as his body glistening with the water that showered down on them in torrents. They had only been in the rain for five seconds, but they were both thoroughly drenched.

He had the audacity to laugh.

"Does it look like I'm enjoying this?" Huffed Sabra indignantly.

"You will soon." It sounded like a promise.

He didn't know what had gotten into him but it felt like life was once again full hope and he felt like he could do anything. He felt bold, brave and every bit the legend they would make him (though he did not know it yet).

Before he knew it he was dancing with Sabra in the rain. It wasn't graceful, neither was is particularly skilled, but it so full of life and youthfulness that one couldn't deny that there was a certain power and beauty to it all. The rain, the thunder, their laughter it all became music. Every splash against their body seemed to fill them with a breathless invigorating energy. Every step was game of cat and mouse. Yet it was hard to tell who was what.

There were times when she was in his arms, there times when she wasn't and it left him aching for her return.

There was a moment when the rain had softened somewhat, when she had her arms around his neck and her body was pressed against his. She didn't move, she was studying him, his green eyes, the bridge of his nose, and the slow dripping of water from his mess of curls, intently with those blue eyes. Her dress clung to her like his kilt did to him. Her smile had fallen, to be replaced with something that seemed to take her breath away, something far more passionate. For a moment, a fleeting, wild, hopeful, moment, he thought there was the slimmest chance that she too might love him.

A daring recklessness overcame him and leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers.

They were slightly chapped, a little cold and wet. It was a soft kiss, inexperienced yet earnest, fluttering and sweet like butterfly wings. But there was no doubt that she was kissing him back.

Sabra pulled away.

"We can't." She stated. "The people will..."

"I love you." He blurted out. You absolute idiot he scolded himself. "Marry me."

"What?"

"You know," he couldn't stop himself from speaking his heart. "Hold my hand as we walk up to the temple. Declare an oath of love to each other. Be my queen and rule by my side. I want you to marry me."

"Ahk...It will cause a scandal it...I have no dowry to offer"

"So did my mother's marriage to my father. But it didn't matter in the end. The people look up to her now. I dont care about a dowry only you I-" He paused. "I get it if you don't want to. I hope we can still be-"

He was cut off by the taste of her lips again. Her hands ran through his hair as she pulled him in closer. He melted in her embrace. When he pulled away almost breathless he murmured:

"I'm going to take that as a yes."

She smiled up at him. Her fingers traced the smooth boyish planes of his neck with a newfound freedom.

"It is a yes," she said. "On one condition."

That made him slightly nervous.

"Anything."

"I don't want children."

"Is this a celibate marriage?" He asked. He could live with that as long she was-

"No, you absolute idiot." She smiled. "I can get herbs that will not allow me to conceive."

"Oh. But why not?"

"For Ramses." She said. "I am an orphan, I know what it is like to try to and find parents in people that aren't. Ahk, I don't want Ramses to feel inferior to them or less loved. Because he will. He deserves a real mother and father."

"I will love him no less if we have children." He assured.

"You think that now." She told him. "But I know it won't be true. It is ingrained in us as humans to love our own children before the children of others."

It was a hard concept for him to accept, to never have a child of his own flesh and blood. But this was the least he could do for his dead brother. The brother who had sacrificed his life for him. Now Ahkmenrah could sacrifice his own children for Kahmunrah. He would do anything for Ramses.

"Alright," he said. "I accept."

Suddenly he remembered the tradition that had been passed from generation to generation. He led her back under the roof.

"When a man proposes to a woman in Egypt," He said picking up his cloak and unfolded it. "He would place his cloak around her, to let everyone know."

He draped it across her shoulders and fastened it around her. It had all felt so surreal to him but this cemented it. It hit him with the weight of sandstone. He was to be married to the woman he loved. He wouldn't have to shoulder the burden of Kingship alone.

The clouds had cleared a little and moon shone through them. Full bright and silver. He entertained the notion that Kahmunrah was up there watching him. He could almost hear his brother gloating.

"You look beautiful." Ahkmenrah breathed drinking in the sight of her under the moonlight.

"Are you sure you're not complimenting me because it is required for a man to compliment his bride?" She asked.

He laughed. "No." His hands trailed across the gold netting that hung over her dress. "Blue and gold it really suits you."

"I might wear this dress again then,"

"I was hoping," he murmured he fingers going through the netting. "That it would be just the netting." He pulled her in as if to emphasize his point, he was sure he somehow picked this up from his brother, he never knew what to say to a woman. "Nothing else, just the netting."

She didn't know whether to kiss him or kill him.

—————

I hope you enjoyed this declaration of love. 

  Sabra's dress and the infamous net is up top. No her dress does not look anything like what Freddie Mercury wears, so swipe over to the next bit, see that wasn't hard.But if you missed it here it is:

Of course, I had to put in Bohemian Rhapsody for a chapter called Queen. 

- Sargun