Chapter one- Rain

It rarely rains in Egypt. The golden land stretches out forever under the cerulean sky glitter and gleam over the pyramids where the Pharaoh rested in his great alabaster palace. Surrounded by his great royal wife and concubines and wine and sweet meats. The throne of marble cool beneath him, the room like that of a snowcap in its coolness for only sunlight lit the great room where the King spends his mornings awaiting an audience with the various people whom over he presided. During this time he could do what he liked and in this time of year it was common practice for them to rest their eyes. Doze, as he watched for a rare cloud to pass by and shade them from the sweltering heat that was to be frank not pleasant but still not entirely unbearable.

For the autumn was indeed the most pleasant time of year for the Egyptians. The warmest with just a hint of cooling in the desert air, the only issue was the flies which were brought in with the pleasant weather. He flicked the flies away from his face and adjusted the silk coverlet of his headdress and leaned back with all regality. He was a content man, slender and handsome in his age. He had broad shoulders, huge arms firmly muscled and dark ebony skin with jade eyes more beautiful and bright then the stone itself. His skin was dark; the collar of lightly charred wood after the sun has baked it with its benevolent heat to that deep brown shade.

But that night it would rain for the King was out of sorts, he was in fact only beautiful when it came to his body. He was vein and spoiled, his beauty was his pride and because he is very narcissistic he was also cruel. Believing he was the greatest king to ever walk the earth. Better than his forefathers and the Kings that came before him and as such was insistent that he have a son. Of course, there was nothing particularly strange about wanting a son when one had a throne to which needed an heir but it was just the brutality of which he went about it.

He had many wives and concubines, but none of them yet had given him what he desired the most. He had sired several children, many daughters and from many beautiful women, all dead by his own hand. He had fathered them and when they had come out female he had thrown them into the Nile to be gobbled up by the vicious crocodiles clacking their chops for the meat. He would give them (the mothers) two tries and if she failed to bear him a son then he would have her killed and meet the same fate as her children who were of no use to him.

For twelve years it had been this way, since his eighteenth birthday when the Pharaoh, too young to know what it meant to wield such power had let it travels straight to his head. Seven wives and 14 children in twelve years and still no son were to be had of his body. But tonight he would take another woman as his bride and so he awaited her arrival, stoic and cold as his jade eyes watched the guards bring her to him and he smiled with a kind of cynical pleasure mixed with surprise. He had thought they might bring him some girl from Persia, another brown haired doe-eyed girl who said yes your majesty and nothing else.

The prospect was something he was dreading, not because he was opposed to the objectification of women. Far from it, to him women were just tools for making him a son and for coddling that son into manhood where his mother would become inconsequential. It was mainly his own boredom with that particular kind of woman and wanted something more exotic. It seemed like his guard had read his mind for the woman he brought along with him in robes of crème and shimmering gold. The guard nodded to him as he dragged her forward by a rope causing her to stumble ungracefully.

"Your Majesty, she is here," said the captain and gave her a hard yank.

"Thank you," he smiled as she yelped.

"Leave us…" he said and the soldier did as he was told for no one ever disobeyed the Pharaoh or else.

"P-please…" she started shakily.

"Be silent in front of the Pharaoh!" the guard snapped, slapping her cheek so hard that she yelped.

"I am sorry sir…" she said to the guard who was now leaving.

He raised his hand to silence her and then slowly, deliberately building the moment climbed down from his seat. This girl, she was young no more than a child really and she was pale. No desert water lily was she; her hair was golden and her eyes more silver than the moon. He stopped in front of her and lifted the white gossamer veil away from her face and he smiled in pleasure for she was indeed beautiful. He licked his lips and then bent down to taste the flesh of her earlobe quickly. She whimpered in fright but he felt no remorse; he could do what he wanted with this girl. She was his after all.

Still, it might amuse him to humor the girl and make her feel more comfortable he liked them to be comfortable. They were more complacent that way easier to make a baby with a cooperative partner than a frigid one. So he took out his knife, the silver blade winked in the hot sunlight and with a whooshing sound he raised it and brought it down fast. The girl shrieked in fright as he brought it towards her hands but stopped when she felt her bonds being sliced loose. Her breath came out in a rush of relief and she looked like she might faint at any moment. It amused him.

"There isn't that better?" he asked, barely hiding the smirk flirting with the corners of his chiseled mouth.

She nodded rapidly, "Yes…" she squeaked.

He laughed, "Yes what?" he asked his laughter hiding an ill-concealed threat.

She had best learn to respect him or else, she would be crocodile food just like the others who had come before her. The last woman who had not addressed him properly had been locked in a dungeon for years. He felt no guilt over it; he was the son of the great Re. The lord of the sun and by his power was the Pharaoh blessed with divine immunity from the rules of the lower classes. He was born into respect and demanded it at every instance with his life. From absolutely everyone around him, all his other wives had done this and were honored to be his wife. She had been briefed on what she in for, he had allowed her that at the very least and she knew she had made a mistake for her eyes widened.

"Yes your majesty…" she said and he nodded.

"Good girl," he mocked with paternal affection, "What is your name?"

"Madeline…" she squeaked.

"Madeline," he liked the way it sounded on his tongue, foreign and soft in its syllables.

"Yes your majesty…" she trembled when she spoke.

"How old are you…" he asked, not that he cared but it was better if they were relatively young easier to make a child with.

"Fourteen your majesty…" she mumbled looking at the floor.

The Pharaoh licked his lips, she was young he liked that. Young women were more fertile than women his age. They were also pure, virgins more than likely. He preferred virgin girls, women that only he was allowed to touch, for his eyes only and no other man. He did not take spoiled goods to his bed. If the great King was to take a woman she was to be exclusively his for no great man shared his bed with women who had shared their bed with another. She looked at him wide eyed when he looked into her face, she smelled of some sort of flower that he had not scented before in these parts.

Or so he thought, when he inhaled again it was soft and gentle, a mix of water lilies and midnight blooming jasmine. It smelled sweet and fragrant, made his blood race and pulse quicken and he eyed her more closely. He noticed then that she was well-endowed and slender, this pleased him. He liked slender women, liked them to be slight and slender and small so that he could crush them underneath him. It made him feel almost Godly to do so when she was under him and he was in complete control. He was going to enjoy this, he was certain.

"Madeline, you are not Egyptian… "he mused, gazing at her expectantly.

"No, your majesty, I am from Bosherville in France…" she told him quietly, "My father sold me here."

"Did he indeed?" he asked smiling; all the better a woman sold into slavery had no right to refuse him.

"Yes I was a dancer back home…" she said sadly.

That sparked something in the King's eyes, and he licked his lips with anticipation. He had heard rumors of how sweet and soft they were. He smiled at her, a handsome smile that both invited and threatened her. She was shaking, he could sense her fear, her awe of him and he loved it. He wanted to kiss and so he did just that for he always did exactly what he wished. Madeline stiffened as his lips covered hers and then she gasped and he took full advantage. He took his time, explored her mouth and finding the taste to his liking pulled back.

"Your majesty…" she breathed, flushing crimson in both cheeks.

"I trust you know why you are here then, Madeline from France?' he asked.

"No your majesty I have only just arrived and…" he stopped her.

"You are here to become my wife, isn't that wonderful…" he seemed to smile.

Her eyes widened, "But your majesty I don't know your name even."

"Silence," he hissed, "My name is Rasheed, now you will marry me and I trust you will enjoy my company."

"Yes Rasheed," she used his name for the first time.

And so it was done. The wedding was held and she pretended to like it. The marriage was consummated and she pretended to like it. She got pregnant soon after, and pretended to be happy. Then one bitter yet rarely rainy night in October she gave birth to a son and for the first time she was happy. Until she looked down at his face and she cried. For the baby she held in her hands was not a handsome prince but a monster. And the Pharoah in his horror had stolen the boy from his mother's breast and called him a monster that he was. The young queen wept and held him close to her and begged her husband to see reason and that at last he had his son in the very least. No one knew of the reason for the boys ugliness only that it was and so in the way of the ancients, the rain was blamed. And so the child was called Erik, for the spirit of the rain which came his birthday. And so the prince was given a mask, in spirit of the moon that lit his ugliness.

First Phantom story please tell me how I did?