So it happened that three months passed in the most joyful period that Egypt had ever seen. With Ahkmenrah's new reforms and renewed trading with the Sumerians, both peace and prosperity permeated throughout Egypt. They would say that if the dynasty of the fourth kings was a golden age, then those three months leading to Ahkmenrah and Sabra's marriage had been the height of its glory.

Ahkmenrah found the peace pleasant and if anything rather boring. It was in those hours that he often stole out of the palace and either spent time with his nephew, who was growing stronger by the day, or with Sabra, for whom his love seemed to grow exponentially. It seemed no matter how much time he spent with either of them his yearnings for their presence remained insatiable.

On the day he was to be wed, he knew that this was the day his life would change. He was bathed ceremoniously and dressed in the full regalia of a King. When he looked in the bronze mirror, he could no longer see the boy who had raced his brother and destroyed a pyramid. He could no longer see the child who had thought he was invincible, a god. He saw a man, only mortal, but wise and courageous. He saw a man scarred by life's cruelty and despite it all he saw a man who could still smile.

"Your father would have been proud." Said Shepseheret peering at the bronze mirror. "Though it is a pity you have had sacrifice your boyhood."

Ahkmenrah turned to her. "For Egypt I would do it without question." He smiled down at his nephew. "And for you little one I would sacrifice everything so that you can have a boyhood."

"Are you ready?" She asked him.

He shrugged and smiled "As I will ever be."

So they walked out to the palace grounds.

"When your father took my hand during our wedding, they were slick with sweat." She informed him. "He was so nervous I was sure he would collapse."

Ahkmenrah found himself smiling. "He always seemed like nothing could deter him. He seemed invincible."

"You didn't know him like I did." Said Shepseheret, Ahkmenrah could see that her heart was pained. "He was only mortal but he had a big heart. His fears became his armour. I guess that's what made him such a great man."

At the gates he suddenly realised people had gathered to watch his ceremonial procession. Many were wearing colourful ribbons throwing flowers. There was laughter and dancing, and in the distance he could hear the wistful tones of a flute carved from bone.

When they saw their King the crowd roared ecstatically.

"I hope you aren't scared." Said his mother teasingly.

Not knowing how to respond, Ahkemnrah walked ahead, followed by his mother, Montu, little Ramses. And the line fo ceremonial servants behind him. In front stood his two trusted guards.

He lead the procession, he found as he walked, the people started to file in behind the servant following their king. In this fashion they arrived at the temple of Hathor. Briefly Ahkemnrah wondered about Kahmunrah. All inhabitants of Ineb-Hedg were married here, no doubt Kahmunrah and Ismara had also married here in secret.

How did Kahmunrah feel? Had he been just as nervous? Or was he simply happy to be with the woman he loved? Was he scared of being caught? Or perhaps he had been too intoxicated with passion to notice?

All these thoughts were dispelled when he saw a wizened woman standing red, a lone figure against the white alabaster of the temple. The moment had arrived.

He knelt in front of her.

The King was inferior to no one. But in front a holder of divine power, the King must kneel. Her wrinkled finger clasped his shoulders and she raised him to his height.

He remembered then of a time, he had been only six and Kahmunrah had been nine. They had stood hand in hand as they watched their Aunt marry.

"Will I be up there one day?" He had asked his brother.

"One day." Promised Kahmunrah. "I'll be right here watching you."

But he wasn't here.

"Rise," she told him. "Await your bride."

Soon enough he spied a small procession of soldiers and in their midst as figure dressed in white, yet the the white seemed to be glimmering with many colours. He was reminded of Isis's Opal wings.

He knew without a doubt that this was Sabra.

He couldn't help but let out a smile as she walked up towards them. Her dress was a simple white, that gave off an opalescent glow as she moved. She wore a necklace engraved with mother-of-pearl and a dagger of the same material. In he hands she held an offering, a dowry.

She smiled up at him, she seemed to glow like a slow burning flame. She handed the dowry to his mother, as was tradition, before Montu joined their hands together. Montu left and Ahkmenrah was left with a great warmth that erupted in his chest.

Here he was, with the woman he loved.

Then just as the priestess starts to speak, he felt his whole body contract inwards, towards the focal point of his chest. The breath seemed to contract. There was dead silence. He doubled over, the pain in his chest was overwhelming.

There was an arrow poking out of his chest. He had been shot in the back.

He couldn't see the turmoil of the common people. He couldn't hear the screams of men and women, already mourning. All he could hear was Sabra crying out his name over and over again as she gathered his in her arms trying to help him. He could feel his mother coming here too trying to staunch the blood.

"Don't..." he managed to get out weakly.

How could explain it to them, the calmness of it all. He will be seeing his brother again. His life had culminated to this point in time.

"Sabra..." he called out hoarsely. "Promise me...guide him..." he could barely manage the words. "...our son."

He reached out a bloodied hand to touch Ramses cheek. "Be strong." He told him, he wasn't sure if the baby would understand him, one day maybe Sabra will tell him.

He looked at Montu, they didn't speak. There was a grim determination in the other man's eyes. But Ahkmenrah knew the words that were roiling through Montu's head. It was only yesterday that you were a skinny little lad, putting frogs in everybody's dishes.

It was then that he could swear he saw his brother in front of his. Flashing that same nefarious grin, like a thunderbolt bright and senseless.

"I wish this didn't happen so early." Said Kahmunrah as he reached down and took his hands and hoisting him upwards.

Ahkmenrah turned to his mother.

"Ma..." he barely uttered that word.

The primeval word from his childhood days before he was tutored into using the more formal mother. He wanted to tell her he loved her.

Before he could his hands curled and he succumbed to his brother's hold. 

Ahkmenrah had died.

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Sorry, I did warn you. This story is a tragedy. But I am far from done with his family members. Tune in for a few more chapters. We are nearly there.

Thank you all

meee_gan I know you want to kill me :)