Author's Note: HIYA!! After a long time of collecting dust, I've decided to come back here and re-edit things a bit. Since I've improved SO much since this humble first fic of mine, I thought it deserved to be re-done. If you're reading this for the first time, I hope you enjoy. If you're reading this again, I hope you take the time to read over it again. There isn't much difference, though, just in the style of the writing.

I love this story very much. It was my first fic here and one of my most popular ones, too. So I hope you like it. Please tell me what you think after you're done reading!

The Diary of a Queen

Chapter 1: Life's Beginnings

The blazing sun shines on my skin, reflecting its light and heat off of my surface. My eyes stare out toward the crowd of people—my people. I turn to the Pharaoh as the curtains open further. I stare at him intently as he gazes back. His smile relaxes me and once again reminds me that everything will be okay.

My story is a long and weary one, perhaps unbelievable as well. To fully understand me, it's necessary to start from basics.

My roots extend far back and far away from this land of sun and desert. My grandmother was originally from Greece, giving me a hint of Grecian ethnicity buried deep in the Egyptian. When she was barely eighteen, she was forced to marry against her will. That man wasn't everything he seemed to be when Grandma's parents met him. In fact, he was despicable, abusing Grandma and threatening to kill her if she ever tried to leave.

She was afraid of him and I don't blame her. She was trapped and her parents didn't seem to care much about her. The only person she knew she could count on was herself. With that in mind, she grabbed what she could and took off. She jumped on the first boat she could and left that miserable life behind. She never heard from her family or her evil husband ever again. Though they had hurt her for what seemed her entire life, she missed them dearly and still left an apology wafting in the breeze.

Grandma traveled for years not even sure of where she was going. Still, she promised herself that where ever the ship would lead her to, she'd start life anew and live it the best way that she could. Finally, she found herself in Egypt. It took her time to adjust, with the language and culture barrier against her. Fortunately for her, though, she met my grandfather. He taught her many things and brought her countless blessings. They didn't have much, but they loved each other and did everything they could.

My father used to tell me all the time how I'd grow up to be her exact image. It makes me happy to know that she lives somewhere inside of my soul. With my uncanny resemblance to her, naturally, my father gave me her name.

My name is Demitria but I am commonly referred to as Demi by family and close friends. I've always preferred my nickname ever since I was a child and still do.

As far as family goes, my parents are long gone now. My father moved on to the after life sooner than would've liked. I was only three years old, yet I always feel that he guides my path and protects me and he's always around. My mother has been around for quite some time, but she passed on a few years ago, before my third child was born. She's a very important person to me. She always was and will always be.

I am the youngest of five children, each of us born at least three years a part. My oldest brother's name was Ali. He was big and strong but still very playful. After Ali came Samira, the wise and beautiful older sister with great advice and a helping hand. Then there was Kilah, the quiet one. She didn't talk too much but always had the most incredible singing voice of the family. Ironic, isn't it?

Last but not least, there was Sapphire. She got on my last nerve and sometimes made me want to pull my hair out or drown myself in the Nile. The only thing I thought she was good for was bringing my wits to their ends or, more important, serving as a victim of all those practical jokes Ali taught me. Yes, she was the perfect host: gullible, imprudent, and over all, just one of those people who were silently asking for it. With all this said, I still love her very much. A sister is a sister, family is family, and there's nothing any of us can do about that.

Then, of course, there was I. The last of the bunch, with my grandmother's signature ebony dark hair and Mother's caramel brown eyes. I learned how to farm, though I never really caught on like most of the family. I learned thousands of games and saw thousands of things. When the Pharaoh and his young son would make their rounds on their mighty chariots, I would stare up at them and wonder what kind of life they must've lived.

Would a life of riches be better than the life I had been living? Barely getting along, having to work hard and grow up quicker after the day my father died…I wondered that for a long time. Now, I see that the events of my life are threads that weave into something greater down the line. Whether I perceive it as beautiful or not is up to me. Up to now, though I've faced many hardships and shed seas worth of tears, everything leads up to this. When everything is said and done, I understand that I'm happy with my life and I wouldn't have had it any other way.