One: A Beautiful Maiden

Clank, chink, clash.

"You're getting better Sephora, but you'll never beat me at a sword game!" Her brother, Asipher remarked, smiling playfully. Though he was younger, it felt like he was the more mature of the both of them, Sephora thought.

Has it always been like this? I hope it never goes away.

Her brother swooped down upon her, slashing his wooden sword down at his older sister's head. "Hey, watch out! If you hit me, mom will make sure you pay!" Sephora reproached, her sweet, airy voice filled with fake-concern. Her brother had never hit her before, all those 5 years of playing with swords; she doubted he'd do it now.

Never.

She smiled blissfully, happy thoughts filling her mind. She was maybe one of the happiest teens in the empire. Being 17, she didn't know much about life, but Sephora did know about pain and empathy. So being as happy as she was was a large task for such a young girl, but she mastered it well. Like a bird that sings its sweet melody every morning, she would take to happiness, living with its constant familiarity day by day.

Oh, her mother would remark to her friends, she's such a wonderful child. Obedient, kind, loving. Perfect for the Pharaoh! And then she would laugh kindly, giving off the feeling that she was kidding, but knowing, just like everyone else did who knew Sephora, she truly was right for the Pharaoh. Though, no one would ever really remark their feelings, it was a general feeling of overwhelming envy of such a perfect child. If only my child was like her! They would think, not finding a single flaw in the perfect creature.

Yes, it was true; Sephora was kind, loving, obedient and breath-takingly beautiful, but with such holy perfections, ironically, sprouted her flaws. She was kind, empathetic, but so much she would cry after seeing a dead body, mourning for days. Sometimes she would fall ill. She loved everything, even things that would indefinably hurt her in the end, setting her up for destruction from the beginning. She was obedient, sometimes so much so she would cater to her mother's every whim, no matter the difficulty. And of course, of all her perfections, Sephora was most of all beautiful, like an Egyptian goddess.

Her hair was long and silky, reaching past her buttocks, because she had never trimmed it since birth. Not only was it long and soft, but also the color was strange and memorizing, the color of the stained red Nile River. It was burgundy and of all her beautiful features, her hair was most defiantly her best. Her skin was pale, surprisingly; making her an exotic beauty, from staying indoors all day. And her eyes, a Flintstone gray, could make you adore the creature that possessed them instant, or fear them, if she grew angry.

Though the beauty was striking and apparent, it had the downfall of making people look at the shy Sephora more often than she liked. It made them judge her harder if a single hair was out of place, place expectations on her shoulders like leaves on a tree.

Though, no matter the downfalls of her character, that was still how people of her town saw Sephora as, the striking exotic, loving beauty, fit for the Pharaoh himself.

Oh, Sephora would argue if she were complimented. I'm not beautiful, merely strange looking.

Don't say such things! They would laugh, that knowing, loving laugh, because they knew she would never win that fight. But inwardly, there was a small battle going on within Sephora that became more and more apparent the more she fought with it. It tore her apart, inside out.

The battle of her heart…and her true feelings of herself. All she could think about was the immanent feeling of letting those who loved her so down. They called her beautiful, what if she was burned? They called her loving, what if she didn't feel like loving? They called her obedient, what if she rebelled?

Those thoughts…like poison in an irrigation system of her body would flood in, haunting her every move, making her feel as though she had to represent the perfect human being. Inside her house, her mother and brother knew she was less than perfect, sometimes she couldn't control her temper or she would be so overwhelmed of the constant façade, she would want to wilt away, but no matter how many hours of ill she held, there were double in the happy times.

Happy times, I hope they never fade.

Above her beauty and loving, obedient lifestyle, Sephora was mostly hopeful she would live up to all the things her fellows would say about her. She hoped she would never do them wrong, because of their hearts and the pure, simple hope they placed in her to make up for what they could never achieve.

It was such a hard task though, always doing what everyone else wanted for her. And her brother knew it. Constantly, Sephora would come home crying; hurt from some small gesture telling her she was less perfect that day than the others. He would want to laugh and say, No ones perfect, but he knew better. Sephora was always assumed to be so close to it, it was almost the right fit. So to be demoted, she couldn't handle.

What if they find out I'm not as wonderful as I seem?

She would think frantically and sob, sob, sob for hours. She was scared that if she had that title taken from her, she'd have no self-identification. She let people run her for so long, she saw herself as whatever they saw her as. To be left alone with none of the constant judging, compliments, hopes, and desires, gave her the feeling of exaggerated emptiness, which she mostly hid from by hearing those comments and smiling. My sister is such a tragic creature. Asipher would think sadly, holding Sephora's hair back on the days she couldn't stop crying for everything she didn't have.

"Now, you'll need to take nothing with you, because the Pharaoh will choose you immediately as his bride, I have no doubts. He will send the other entire array of woman away after one look, so you need nothing to pack for the duration of the stay. Once he chooses you," Sephora's mother smiled warmly. "He will provide you with everything you need, as you will become his bride and he will take the best care of you."

Sephora nodded furiously trying to remember every word her mother told her. She was afraid to leave the only familiar place she had ever been and tried to hide it. "Yes," She replied to all her mother's assumptions. Her mother would rather Sephora refer to them as facts, but none the less, Sephora couldn't really choose herself to be the next Queen. The gods did that, no matter how much her mother or Sephora would fight.

Yes, She thought. Yes mother I will be beautiful like you say. Yes, I will stoke my hair one hundred times and point my face to the sky to give me a pinkish glow. And yes, when I look at him, I will hold his gaze in mine with a seductive but classical look to draw him closer. Yes, yes, yes mother!

She sighed sadly. "I know what to do."

Her mother nodded. "Your father would be proud of you."

The nicest words she's said to Sephora in her whole life since birth.

"Don't mess this up."

Never mind.

Sephora turned to her brother Asipher and bit her lip. "I'll miss you."

Asipher nodded. "I'll miss you too, sister." He could hold back no longer, and cried like a baby, his mother slapping him on the head. "Be a man!" She proclaimed inhumanly and shook her head, trying to hide her tears.

Sephora clutched her brother in both of her arms, hugging him tightly. "Don't forget." She warned and smiled, pinching him.

"Don't worry Seph, I won't forget our promise. I'll come save you one day, when you least expect it." Her brother sniffed, smiling back, like he was in a play. Such heroic words from a scrawny 14-year-old. Sephora pushed him playfully. "Don't be so serious, but thanks Asipher, I'll hold you to that."

And with that, and a parting nod from her mother, she jumped on her horse and rode towards the palace in the distance.