Why did he always have to do this? Every night, every day, seven days a week, twelve months, and all three hundred and sixty five days of the year. And for what? That was a question yet to be answered. But as the insistent knocking filled his ears he knew there would be no time for explanation this night. With a sigh he pushed the lid off his sarcophagus and clasped the hand that was held out to him. It was too early for this...

"Oh Ahkmenrah! I feared you'd never wake," Said the knight with sarcasm, laughter glimmering in his eyes.

"What have you done this time?" The pharaoh asked, straightening his golden tunic before swinging himself over the lip of his daytime bed.

"Oh, nothing much, except, perhaps, slightly irritated those hairy things with the scant clothing?"

Oh, how often he had the urge to slap him and his pleading face. "Lance, again?" He asked, shaking his head in an irritated fashion. "That's the fifth time this week!"

"What?" Exclaimed the knight with mock innocence. "I cannot help if the women are pretty!" The Egyptian was about to answer before he was cut off by the knight. "The long, free flowing hair, the deep, beautiful eyes, the tight fitting clothing, the-"

"Alright, Lance, that's enough." The pharaoh said, cutting him off. He couldn't disguise the laughter in his voice. "I swear, if Mother and Father heard half the things that come out of your mouth, they would have you executed and me locked in my tomb."

"What? Am I a bad influence?"

"No," Ahkmenrah replied, smiling. "You are barbaric."

Lance tilted his head back and laughed, his voice ringing through the hollow hall. "Indeed, how everyone perceives us Englishmen. But I, my compatriot, am a knight."

Oh no, thought the pharaoh to himself as he rolled his eyes. Here he goes again...

"And as a knight it is my duty to protect my royal highness and his high and mighty pain in the hindquarters parents from harm, as well as-"

"Watching your tongue?" Came a voice from behind them.

Lance jumped at least a foot in the air and was on the ground in a bow before Ahkmenrah could even comprehend what had happened. He turned to see his father, standing tall and wit his queen at his arm, glaring menacingly at the two of them.

"Your Highness', I beg your pardon-"

"For the hundredth time this year?" Questioned Ahkmenrah's mother, shaking her head. "Oh, noble guardsman, when will you learn? My husband has not many more pardons to give you."

"Who said I was giving him a pardon?" Said Merenkahre, his voice firm and volatile. "I am tired of giving him chances."

"But dear, he's just a boy. It's what they do."

"He's older than Ahkmenrah!" Merenkahre protested, waving his staff at the still kneeling knight.

"It is good for our son to have influence from one abundant in years." Shepseheret said, smiling at her dear child. "Besides, it keeps him out of our hair so we can make up for our lost years."

At this a smile appeared on the old pharaoh's face, and he nodded once to the knight before following his wife as she walked away, gold dress gliding elegantly behind her. "Uh, right, then. Stay out of trouble and, uh, carry on." And he disappeared down the hall after her.

Lance rose to his feet, chuckling quietly. "Old passions never die," He said, turning to the young prince. "Now. I believe we have some fair, hairy maidens to tend to."

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"That could have gone better," Lance said, helping the young pharaoh to his feet. He cringed at the bruise darkening on the Egyptian's cheek. "I had no clue her father was there..."

"Like you had no clue you wandered in on her?" Ahkmenrah questioned, rubbing his sore cheek and wincing.

"Yeah. It's a shame he only saw you when you came in to retrieve me."

"Indeed." Mumbled the pharaoh darkly, turning away from the knight as he headed for his own exhibit. It would soon be morning and he wanted desperately to sleep off the pain of the blow from the enraged father of the cave girl he'd met at the most unconventional time. It was an image he'd never get out of his head. Knights needed armor, no matter what the occasion.

"Well, it's getting late," Lance said through a yawn, stretching. "I'd be best be on my way. Trixie will be needing me."

As the knight walked away Ahkmenrah found himself alone. He trembled, and slight fear gripped his heart. He never knew why, but ever since his first night in the new museum he'd been afraid of it. Never when he was around others, but always when he was alone. Perhaps it was just the shadows, or the empty feeling the place had. Though full of exhibits, the Egyptian's hall was always empty, and every sound echoed across the stone floors and bounced between the pillared columns. Maybe it was the exhibits themselves that gave him this feeling. Most, though strange and a little frightening at times, were friendly enough, there were a few that still hadn't adjusted to the expected harmony that must be shared among all who live in one place. There were still those who ran wild in the night and did whatever their minds believed, but other than that there was nothing to fear. But he still got that shiver.

He quickly turned towards the end of the hall and walked, his heart thumping wildly in his chest until he saw his parents reemerge from their "display chamber". He relaxed when he saw them, for he was not alone for the fear to take.

"Ah, there's my son," Said his mother as she draped her arms over him in a tight embrace. She then glanced at his cheek and gasped.

"Mother, it's okay," Ahkmenrah reassured, rubbing it with his hand. "See? It doesn't even hurt...ow!"

"Hold still!" Shepseheret ordered, cupping his unmarked cheek in one hand and holding a cool cloth to the injured on with the other.

"Shepse? What's wrong?" Asked his father as he tied the rope around his robes to fasten them tight. He then saw Ahkmenrah's cheek. Furry entered his eyes. "It was the knight, wasn't it? Did he hit you?"

"No, father." Ahkmenrah replied, shaking his head quickly. He received a sharp slap in the unbruised cheek for moving from Shepse, and flinched.

"I tell you, Shepse, that Lancelot is nothing but trouble."

"Dear, I doubt he would strike Ahkmenrah. You know how well they get along. Ahkmenrah, stop moving."

"Mother, I'm fine," Ahkmenrah whined in a childlike voice, slipping under his mother's reach and walking away towards his sarcophagus. "I want to sleep."

Shepseheret moved to go after him, but the firm but gentle hand of her husband on her shoulder stopped her, and she sighed. "Oh, Meren," She whispered, laying her head against his chest. "Our little prince is growing up. I fear he no longer needs us."

The old pharaoh smiled gently and stroked his queen's head with a tenderness unexpected from a man of his temper. "He is growing up, Shepse. But that's what children do. He must find his own path now."

The Egyptian queen smirked slightly, and a small snicker of laughter escaped her lips.

"What's so funny?" Meren questioned, looking down on her.

"Nothing, just that a few hours ago you were ranting about his constant wandering off."

"My mind changes," He said, holding her close. "I am the pharaoh."

"Yes, you are the pharaoh, but you are not the pharaoh, foolish mortal. You'll learn. You all will learn."

As he drifted off to sleep, Ahkmenrah ignored the voice in his head.