Greetings, FanFiction! I have FINALLY updated! It's been a long time coming, but I think I've finally hammered out a chapter worthy of you all! Again, foreign terms are down below. Sorry for the LONG wait, I was busy finishing my second semester, then some fun summer stuff, and this Thursday two weeks ago I started my first job, but don't worry! I'll try to think of another chapter topic while supervising a bunch of kids (part of Summer Recreation Staff). So cheers, and I'll see you next time!
Household god - Typically a goddess, usually idols that are worshiped in the home, a specific spirit that protects the home, the entire household, or key members.
Hathor - An Ancient Egyptian goddess personifying the principles of joy, music, feminine love, and motherhood.
Son of Ra - One of the Pharaoh's titles.
Tooth-sticks - The VERY ancient predecessors of the toothbrush. They were basically twigs with frayed ends that would apply the pumice - the VERY ancient predecessor of toothpaste - to one's teeth.
Kuzbarah - The Egyptian name for the Coriander herb and its seeds. Having pain-relieving properties, it is useful for headaches, muscle pain, stiffness and arthritis, and rheumatism.
Festival of Opet - An annual celebration in Thebes during the New Kingdom, in the second month of Akhet, the season of the Flooding of the Nile. The statues of the Thebian Triad deities Amun, Mut, and their child Khonsu are escorted in a procession (although the idols themselves are hidden in a sacred barque or boat) from the temple of Amun in Karnak for more than one mile to the temple of Luxor in a marriage celebration. Rebirth is a strong theme and there is a re-coronation ceremony of the Pharaoh. A royal barque would also sail with the gods' vessel, and there were ceremonies in the "Chamber of the Divine King" that would reenact the coronation and thus confirm kingship.
Nut - The Ancient Egyptian goddess of the sky, depicted as a star-covered woman arched over the earth.
Horus - The son of Isis and Osiris, depicted as a warrior with the head of a falcon.
Meaning of OC's names:
Rania - Delightful (Rah-neeya)
Aharon - Exalted (Ah-harh-on)
Charissa - Grace (Kah-riss-ah)
Nour - Luminous (Noor)
. . .
Moving her hands over the fine cloth sheet covering her bed, Rania awoke in what she thought was still a dream. Propping herself up, she looked around at the room the Pharaoh had chosen himself from the servants' quarters. It was finely furnished, given the status Rania had gained for herself and her mother as servants in the royal household.
Her bed fell in the far left corner of the comfortably-sized chamber, as did her mother's in the opposite right corner a few paces away. All of their possessions had been transported to their room in the palace, including the figure of their household god, Hathor. Getting out of bed (after remaking it neatly) and going over to where the figure had been set up on a small wood pedestal, Rania knelt on the stone floor and bowed her head for a few moments, praying to the goddess after whispering a few sentences of praise and thanksgiving. Then she silently implored Hathor to aid her in the duty that the Guardian Isis had indirectly asked of her: that of watching over the Pharaoh.
"Just as you receive and protect Ra each night so he may be reborn in the morning, please help me keep a watchful gaze over the Son of Ra, so that he may be brought back into the light."
Her prayer finished, Rania stood up and looked at her mother's bed. Charissa was still sleeping peacefully on her side, which was her daughter's favorite position too. She looked so serene, her long black hair fanning out over her pillow, that Rania felt guilty about having to wake her. Yet, becoming aware of a slight commotion out in the corridor that bordered the servants' wing, Rania went over to her.
"Mother," she whispered, putting a hand on her shoulder and smiling gently as Charissa shifted sleepily, "I think it is time for us to get ready."
Stirring, Charissa put a hand to her eyes and rubbed them as she opened them, then she sat up and yawned while Rania giggled. "Thank you, Rania," she said, smiling. "I'll be ready in a while."
As her mother went over to Hathor to offer her own thanks, Rania hastily went into a small separate chamber, where she found two dresses befitting maids laid out on a bed of stone that jutted out from the wall. Changing into the slightly smaller one, she was pleased to find that it covered her shoulders and ankles modestly, and it had two layers: one white layer which fitted snugly to the body, and an thin, translucent outer layer (which spread to cover the shoulders and chest like a kind of shawl) which was quite light and airy compared to the manner of dress she was used to as a villager. She was surprised, however, to find eight bands of gold laying on the stone. Uncertain as to the intention of these, Rania decided she would ask her mother later.
Upon examining her small surroundings further, she discovered two tooth-sticks, not unlike the ones used by her and her mother. There was also a carved stone box of powder (which smelt vaguely of ash and pumice, Rania knew from her forays to the market) that was applied to the twig bristles at the end in order to clean one's teeth.
Plucking up her resolve, Rania took one of the sticks, lightly dusted the bristles in the powder, and quickly cleaned her teeth, swallowing the mix whose slightly more pleasant taste she knew would take time getting used to.
As the commotion outside increased in volume, Rania took her four gold bands and her discarded clothing and went out of the small chamber to find her mother just getting up from her prayers. At the naturally questioning glance on Rania's face, Charissa tilted her head and asked, "Yes, Rania?"
She held out her hand in answer. "These bands were in that small chamber, along with our clothing. What do you believe they mean, Mother?"
Charissa shrugged. "They are probably just signaling to other people that we are palace servants. Surely you saw a few when you visited four days ago."
Thinking back on it, Rania realized that she could indeed remember figures bearing those symbols when she had gone to make the request of the Pharaoh. Relieved that she wasn't being singled out, she nodded as she went to place her old dress on her bed. "As with many other times, you're right, Mother."
Smiling gently, and gesturing for her to come closer, Charissa carefully clasped each band on Rania's wrists and upper arms, the thicker bands on the arms and the thinner ones on the wrists. Hastily going into the chamber, grabbing Charissa's bands and doing the same for her, Rania stepped forward as her mother kissed her head in thanks. "One day, it shall be so for you, my daughter," she replied, smiling lovingly as she disappeared into the chamber to change as well.
"I had no idea there were this many servants," Rania breathed in awe, as she looked about the sizable chamber where everyone was taking their breakfast. This was the one of many rooms that was decorated with hieroglyphs in the servants' wing, and was quite hot with so many people in the chamber that seemed almost filled to capacity.
Gazing around, as they appreciatively ate their bread and fish, which the cooks were dishing out into clay bowls, Rania still felt in awe as she looked about at the number of people that were required to run the royal household.
Some of the women and girls wore elaborate beaded wigs, and she could smell the faint scent of sweet oil as a few passed by their table. Collars that looked of great ornamental value rested at the base of their throats, and their kohl and various makeups were applied more generously than the others. The men's dress varied just slightly from the women's, consisting of what looked like a long tunic, and a good number of them wore undecorated wigs also. Most of the servants in that chamber, like Charissa and Rania, wore sandals as well.
Taking it all in, Rania was only slightly startled when someone paused directly in front of her. "Excuse me, but are you new here?"
Rania looked in answer, and saw a boy a little older than herself looking back at her. He was a few palms taller than her, and he looked about nineteen years of age. She was mildly surprised to see that he wore nothing of value like the women and some of the men, (except for the sandals and tunic) yet there was a slight air of command about him as he looked down at her and her mother.
Taking in his short, curly pale hair and green eyes, framed in a face of a lighter complexion than hers, Rania replied, "Yes, we only moved into our quarters yesterday."
His eyes widening marginally, he asked, "Are you by any chance the widow and daughter of Commander Aharon?"
"Yes, we are," Charissa answered, looking at the boy quizzically. "How did you know that?"
"The Pharaoh himself chose your quarters, which has never happened before in all the time I've been the son of the Royal Overseer."
"The overseer of his servants?" she asked, understanding.
"Indeed," he answered, nodding. "I understand you're to take part in tomorrow eve's Festival, and as such my father has direct orders that you are not to begin your duties until after."
"Sir—" Rania began, seeing Charissa look at her pointedly at the boy's last sentence.
"Nour," the boy said, interjecting, then made a gesture for her to continue.
"-Nour," she responded, "with all due respect, did your father explain why he received these orders?"
"I'm afraid not," Nour replied, shaking his head. "My guess would be that you both are of great significance to the Pharaoh if he's deigned to treat you this way."
"I suppose so," she answered airily, feeling his curious gaze.
Feeling that he would not pry on the subject, Charissa asked, "Have you been told what we are to do in His Majesty's service?"
"I believe both you and your daughter are going to be employed in the kitchens," Nour replied, taking in both of their reactions. "Also you are to run designated errands for various officials of the palace."
"But what are we to do during either of those times?" Rania asked, a curious frown creasing her brow.
Chuckling, Nour reassured her, "Do not worry. The people that now hold those positions have held them for some time, as the need has arisen and fallen. I am sure they will help you after the Festival."
"Alright. Thank you, Nour, for your aid," she responded, nodding graciously to him as her mother offered her thanks as well.
"It is my pleasure to aid any body given such designation by the Pharaoh," Nour said, smiling so that his emerald eyes lit up with a genuine pleasure. Slightly bowing to the both of them in response, he turned away and was soon lost among the crowd of servants.
"He seems quite honorable," Charissa commented as she saw Rania watching him leave.
"Yes," Rania nodded, turning her gaze to her mother as she finished the last of her fish and bread, ignoring the unusual strain she felt in her throat. Rising to take her dish back to the cooks, she commented, "Yet it is the Festival I must focus on now for Ra's next few journeys."
"Indeed," her mother nodded, rising beside her and walking slightly behind her. She became confused, however, as Rania suddenly stopped, far from where they were supposed to dispose of their clay bowls.
"Mother . . ." she whispered from where she stood, turning around to face her. Charissa looked on in concern as Rania raised her hand to her throat, then she sat slowly, hesitantly, into the nearest seat and appeared to be struggling to keep her eyes open. "The Pharaoh . . . will be angered," she muttered as her eyelids drooped, and she leaned her head on her folded arms on the table, her face covered in a thin sheen of sweat.
The last thing she could coherently remember were curious faces crowding into her field of vision at this unusual behavior, not least of all her mother, who yet was fighting to make space as she cried, her face full of fear and concern, "Nour!"
It had been quite a predictable day for the Royal Overseer. As soon as he had finished fulfilling his duties at first light, he had reported the conditions to one of the Guardians, as per the chain of command. Now, as he had secured a comfortable position for his son, his wife, and himself some years ago, he was quite content to be relaxing on a chair in the sunlight that came through his window, one of the only ones around the servants' wing. However, fate had the unfortunate role of interferer in the overseer's generally good life.
A creak of his door announced someone's arrival. Mildly turning his head to find the source of the disturbance, he was only slightly surprised to see his son framed in the entrance, a look of distress on his face. "Forgive me, Father," Nour said, stepping into the chamber. "It was not my wish to disturb you."
"Speak, son, you know you are free to do so in my presence as well as that of others," said the Royal Overseer assuringly, turning his body and tilting his head to better hear the cause of the boy's uneasiness.
Stepping a few paces further into the room, Nour announced, "Were you yet made aware that the new maidservant Rania, who is to sing at the Festival of Opet a night hence, has fallen ill?"
"I was indeed not. Are the physicians tending her?" his father immediately asked, aware that such a failure would reflect on him, and therefore on his jeopardized position.
"They are, yet they do not predict she will be in good health in time for the Festival." The Overseer could see that his son was hesitating, yet only for a moment. "Isn't it at this time that it would be appropriate to avoid the usual chain of command?"
"Are you suggesting—?" stammered the father, amazed at the utter straightforward request, and he leaned forward, as though to better view his son would convince him that the boy spoke sense.
"Yes, Overseer," Nour said, looking his father in the eye as casually as he had switched to the formality of their duty. "After all, did not the Pharaoh handpick their quarters himself? He must care about them, and seeing that the girl is ill, we are indeed obliged that the news reach his ears."
"Do you realize what you speak of, boy?" With thoughts and fears of bringing his position into peril crowding his mind, the Royal Overseer rose to his feet in all his state and finery. Looking down upon his son with a disbelieving gaze, he said, "I cannot be held responsible for angering the Pharaoh. Remember, you are to follow in my footsteps when I retire as overseer, so if the blame comes upon me, it is not my life, but yours as well, that must bear the force of his hand."
"I have a way to keep your conscience without blemish, then, if you will hear me. I shall go inform him myself," Nour replied with such a force that it took even his father aback.
"Nour-," the Overseer stuttered.
"I have made my choice," said he, looking back up at his father with a respect that still showed itself, despite the sting of his words. "Would not the Pharaoh's disappointment be heightened if the Festival came, and there were no word of its singer or her maladies?"
As the Overseer minusculy conceded this point, Nour nodded in response. "You may continue resting, and I swear by the gods this situation will right itself." With a curt bow, his emerald eyes meeting his father's blue ones, he said, "Farewell, Father," as he strode out of the chamber, leaving the Overseer to feel a mixture of fury and pleasant surprise at what a wise, unselfish young man he had produced.
Fevered thoughts and frenzied visions passed before Rania's closed eyes as she lay amidst her light yet sweaty blankets. She heard through vague ears the gruff mutters of unintelligible spells by a number of physicians surrounding her bed. As their presence diminished, she felt a warm presence draw near, and she opened her eyes ever so slightly to find her mother.
"How are you feeling?" Charissa asked, offering her a small clay bowl full of water.
"How did I get here?" Rania whispered, after drinking a bit and turning her head to look about at their own, now empty, chamber.
"Nour helped me get you back here, after he summoned the physicians," Charissa answered, sitting gently down on the edge of her daughter's bed. "He also went to the Royal Overseer to report your illness, since we are now considered under his orders."
"How late in the day is it?" Rania whispered once again, since her throat was aching so much it would not permit her voice to be heard far.
"It is drawing toward the evening," her mother replied, taking the bowl back from her. "This should help with your fever, along with the incantations."
"They haven't seemed to do much good," she sighed. "My throat feels like the den of a scorpion, and my body seems to have been exposed to the sun all day, even though I've nary once ventured outside."
"Believe me, my daughter, by all the power that the gods vested through me as your mother, you shall be made well again," Charissa said, smiling warmly as she stroked Rania's cheek with cool fingers.
"Thank you, Mother," she said, weakly smiling as well as she turned her head to further feel the sensation of a loving, cold hand against her burning skin.
Her hand pulled away when a soft knock resounded through the wooden door.
Looking confused, yet giving Rania a reassuring smile, her mother stood and went to the entrance, whose frame fell in the far right corner of the opposite wall, with a little hall that created a corner, around which it was impossible to see who the newcomer was. Her heart started beating fast, however, when she heard a gasp come from her mother and a rustle of cloth on the floor. "My lord!" she exclaimed softly in surprise.
"Good evening, Charissa," said the Pharaoh's hushed voice. "I hope I haven't disturbed either of you."
"Not at all. Please, come in," she said, as Rania heard the door creak still more, followed by a few footsteps, then close. "What, if I may ask, are you doing here?"
The two paused behind the corner long enough for Atem to explain, "The son of the Royal Overseer came to beg an audience with me earlier, on behalf of the girl whom this peculiar illness has stricken." A moment of silence, then, "How is she?"
"The physicians have examined her and performed a few incantations, and they left the supplies to treat her here, as they have other patients to tend. She has a fever, which they surmised caused her to become unconscious, and she says she has a very sore and dry throat."
"She's come round?" he asked, sounding surprised. As an explanation, he added, "I've been told everything that's occurred since this morning."
"She has," Charissa answered, walking ahead of the Pharoah and leading him around the corner.
Rania swallowed nervously as she beheld the Pharoah coming to her bedside. This only aggravated her throat, and she raised her hand to it again, as though the action would suppress the internal problem. "My lord," she managed to say painfully, sounding quite hoarse, her doe eyes wide with confusion at this visit.
"Rania," Atem said gratefully, as he came to stand near the edge of her bed. "Thank the gods you're conscious again."
He then frowned in concern, for she had turned her face away from him and looked guilty. "Even in my state . . . I apologize that I cannot be more presentable, my lord." Her voice was just above a whisper.
"The only state that concerns me is your health," the Pharaoh replied sincerely, watching her turn her head back to him in question. "Nothing more," said he, yet as always the Orichalcos was there beneath the surface, reminding his more susceptible side that this was indeed nothing more than a fabrication, a false hope in order to obtain his goal.
"Now," he said, turning aside, "I believe the physicians left supplies?"
"They did indeed, my lord," Charissa replied, beckoning him over to a small wooden table on which, Rania saw before her vision was obscured, lay a number of various colored vials. She had enough time to herself to feel quite embarrassed about her situation, although she knew it couldn't have been helped. Still, glancing down at her servants' dress, she felt utter remorse for the way the linen layers, sticky with sweat, clung to her petite form. Self-consciously, she pulled the blanket covering her higher up her chest.
She had also inwardly feared what Atem's response would be, at her confession that she would not be in the best of health in time for the Festival. Visions of his displeasure, coupled with the fear of the Orichalcos that was naturally magnified ever since she had fallen unconscious, had haunted her.
Unfortunately, as her imagination started to wander down that dark path, it was at that moment that Atem came over with a mixture in a bowl. Gently seating himself on the edge of her bed, glancing toward her as though asking if he was being too intrusive, he frowned. "What is it, Rania?"
Nodding slightly in response to his advances, she swallowed and looked down at her folded hands on the blankets. The sudden pain must have made her gaze appear even frightened as she whispered, "I do not . . . wish to fail you, my lord."
The sensation of his fingers under her chin, with his index finger lightly against her lips, was the last sensation Rania expected to feel, as he softly tilted her head upwards to meet his gaze. She was speechless at the expression in his amethyst eyes: the pain and desire that had shown themselves under the bid of the Orichalcos were fleeing under rays of hope and reassurance. "You will not fail, Rania, least of all to me. That is what I came to make sure of."
"Yet, you must cease speaking unless you feel it is absolutely necessary, otherwise the physicians' predictions about your ability to sing really may come to pass," Charissa supplied, coming up beside the both of them. The gentle smile never left her face, however her eyes narrowed momentarily as Atem gently pulled his hand away from her daughter's face.
Rania wordlessly nodded, her heartbeat slightly faster, as Atem gave the mixture in his bowl another stir with a bone spoon. She marveled as the way its' magnificent carved hieroglyphs shone in the soft light of the torch that had been lit in a sconce on the corner by the entryway.
"There are only a few made in all the kingdom, as they are reserved strictly for the practice of medicine," explained the Pharoah, as he caught Rania's inquiring gaze. "The physicians left this because it is carved with healing knowledge, which they believe is relevant in this situation."
Cocking her head and drawing her brows together in curiosity, Rania looked from her mother, to the Pharoah, to the bowl which he held, as she wondered about its contents.
"It is merely milk and honey, along with a little wine to soothe your throat," Charissa explained, standing at the foot of the bed now.
Nodding in thanks, herself hoping she wasn't intruding into the Pharaoh's role as her caretaker, she held out her hands for the bowl, while slowly propping herself up. Nodding and relinquishing it, Atem's hands slid under hers when handling the bowl. Rania was so sure of his benevolent intentions, at least for the present, that she received a rather rude awakening when her eyes slid to the top of his collar. Again, the Orichalcos stone nestled innocently enough, yet its suspicious glow was enough to send her fingers into a sudden convulsion, so she pulled the bowl away quicker than she would have liked.
A sudden spark of sensitivity came into his eyes, as he in turn pulled his hands away into his lap. She was thankful that his eyes stayed on his folded hands for her first bite of the mixture, as she tenderly lipped it off the spoon and savored the sweet taste before slowly swallowing. The milk, honey, and wine complemented each other as they gently slid down Rania's throat.
She opened her eyes from the pure bliss and soothing sweetness to find the Pharaoh glancing at her, a slight smile upon his lips. Her cheeks heating up under his gaze, she only had the courage to mouth "Thank you" in his general direction before returning her eyes to the amber liquid and the bone spoon, sure that she was grinning like a fool.
She continued to eat awkwardly, averting her eyes from her king the whole time. With each spoonful she felt the natural balm sweep away the aching, hoarse feeling in her throat. After the last scrape of the spoon upon the bowl's side and the last lick of honey from its slightly jagged surface, she looked up to suddenly find her mother and the Pharaoh standing and sitting, unmovingly focused on her condition. Coloring at the sudden attention, and swallowing a few times experimentally, she could feel her eyes light up with the realization that her throat didn't feel aggravated anymore. There was no pain at all.
"Are you feeling any better?" Charissa asked, coming toward her side. Atem realized this and quickly allowed her the room to sit beside her daughter again. At her daugher's nod, naturally seeing a question in the pleading brown eyes, Charissa smiled, stroking her face. "You may speak again, if you wish."
"The pain is . . . gone," Rania whispered wonderingly, looking from her mother to the Pharaoh and back again.
Charissa smiled and clasped her daughter's hands warmly, taking the empty bowl from her. "Then all is as it should be. However, since one can't be too careful, the physicians suggested one more precaution against the loss of your voice." She stood up and turned toward the table with the vials.
As Rania's vision was blocked once again, she turned her head and discovered that Atem was now situated at the end of the bed, looking down at her contentedly with the news that she may be alright after all. Blushing once more, she turned her prudent attention to her folded hands in her lap again, waiting for the last promised procedure.
Her mother came back over with an amber-colored vial held in her hands as she seated herself at Rania's side again. Pouring some of the oil into one hand, and holding the vial between her knees, Charissa rubbed her hands together, then proceeded to gently rub the oil on Rania's neck.
"Kuzbarah?" Rania wondered, feeling that her forays into the marketplace had done her knowledge well thus far.
"Yes," Charissa said, "this will help to ease whatever tension is in your throat muscles. Whatever knowledge the physicians have of singing, we should consider ourselves lucky that this general remedy has many particular uses."
Nodding slightly in agreement, Rania looked up so her mother could spread the oil around the front and sides of her neck, sitting up and pulling her shoulder-blade length dark hair away from her neck. Looking up, her eyes met those of the Pharoah.
His violet gaze was thoughtfully directed toward her face and neck as she tilted her chin upwards, exposing a little more usually-vulnerable flesh than she would have liked. His eyes seemed to follow her mother's hands, as though mentally making a note to himself. Learned in all the matters of his realm, Rania could have thought his attention was merely that of an observing physician, and indeed, that was what a non-paranoid person would have imagined.
Yet with her fear of the Orichalcos at hand . .
She mentally shook her head and closed her eyes, flinching a little at sore spots, hoping that when she next opened them none of her conflicting inner emotions were peering out.
When she did, she found the Pharaoh had averted his eyes, perhaps out of respect, perhaps out of resisting the urge to give in to the emerald stone around his neck.
Whatever the reason, Charissa had removed her hands, which had spread the oil all around the front and sides of Rania's throat, where the muscles were. Rania carefully let her hair fall down her back again, and not come over her shoulders.
"Lastly," Charissa stated, "to deal with that fever, the physicians left this." She went over to replace the kuzbarah vial where it belonged, and doused her hands quickly in a water basin. She then turned about, searching for the bowl of water and the damp cloth that had been beside the vials only a moment ago.
She turned to find them in the hands of Atem, who had retaken his place at the foot of the bed. Looking from Charissa to Rania with sincerity in his eyes, he asked two simple words: "May I?"
Charissa nodded, leaving Rania with a heart that beat faster than it ever had done during her encounters with him. The Pharaoh made his way around to her bedside while her mother took up the space he had previously occupied.
With slow, skilled hands he wrung out the small cloth that had been draped over the bowl's side, his gaze focused entirely on his task. Rolling it into a damp ball, he put his now-questioning gaze on Rania.
She instantly turned her head aside in embarrassment, feeling her face heat up with the inevitable blush. Then, slowly, aware of the violet eyes through her peripheral vision, she looked at him, aware of both their statuses but still wanting to protest that she could take care of herself. Yet, knowing what he might think if she were to refuse his offer, Rania bent her head and closed her eyes in submission so he could gently wipe her brow.
After much gentle padding of her face, during which she actually leaned into the cloth's touch because it was so blissful, she raised her head, causing Atem to pause.
"Thank you for your overwhelming hospitality, my lord," said she, with a grateful smile. "I know not what I have done to deserve such attention."
Unrolling the cloth and replacing it on the side of the near-empty bowl, seeming extra attentive to the fact that Charissa was in the chamber, Atem gently took her hand in one of his, freeing them from their perpetual, yet humble, folded position. "Think nothing of it," he said, meeting her eyes. "For Rania, never will one of our gods be more honored than Opet come tomorrow eve's Festival."
Blushing and lowering her gaze, Rania looked up again as the Pharaoh gently squeezed her hand in a parting gesture. "Rest now. I will send Nour in the morning to inquire after your health before the Festival's journey," he said, softly standing from her bed, with the bowl in hand. Turning to replace it on the table, Atem stopped on his way to the door and spoke to Charissa, in the hushed tone he had maintained since entering their chamber. "Thank you for allowing me in to tend her," he said. He turned and smiled gently at Rania, which Charissa missed because she was curtsying to him.
Rania smiled back in thanks, grateful for his aid yet again, and such was the emotion between them at what had happened that she could almost forget the Orichalcos. Almost.
After the Pharaoh had left, Charissa, in concern for her daughter, had asked her about his behavior.
"I believe part of him truly wants me to heal for the Festival tomorrow," she answered strongly. "Why else would he come himself to oversee such a trivial tending?"
"Yet the Orichalcos may simply be feeding off his feelings in order to manipulate him more. You must understand, Rania, that by this time, it is not simply your voice he wishes to have. His intentions toward you, and toward us, have been guessed at, if not by the upper nobility, as far as the Royal Overseer's son. He has visited our chambers wearing no hint of a disguise, as he had when he first heard your voice."
"I have understood his true intentions, Mother, since my audience with him," Rania said gravely. "Yet even though this has been hinted at in some areas of the palace, it is my hope that, through his genuine feelings for me, he will not allow this to be brought before the Royal Court, if that. For I understand the affairs between serving-girls and higher authority, and I assure you, this will not come to that, for all our sakes."
Charissa sighed with reluctance at the unfortunate realization that her daughter knew what she was talking about, for she had been of a marriageable age for some time, at seventeen years. "Thank you, my daughter. I have a feeling that, despite this, you wish to use your good influence to free our King from the Orichalcos' bonds."
Rania slowly nodded.
"I expected nothing less," Charissa said, leaning forward to softly kiss Rania's forehead from where she'd taken her seat on the bed. "Now, you must rest, as it really is evening," she implored, gesturing toward their tiny window, where the night looked in on them. "However, over time, Rania, please be careful around him."
Seeing an understanding pair of eyes looking back at her, Charissa smiled and went to return the physicians' supplies to them, leaving only those that had been used in case the sickness rose up again in the morning.
The Pharaoh returned to his own chambers, determinedly oblivious to any protests that called after him. Ra only knew what they were thinking, he having just emerged from the servant's wings, yet he would ignore their speculations to focus on one slightly surprising thought: By the gods, she is going to sing for me.
He knew that Rania's voice would, for a period of time, stem the whispering and urging of the Orichalcos where she was concerned. It was so pure and clear the last time she sang that it would surely clear the mind-boggling haze from his mind, for his heart, as far as he knew, had beat with sympathy for her. She had looked so nervous when he'd been brought into her presence; with him standing at the foot of her bed, her graceful, slim form lying there in full view, covered though it was; when she had met his eyes before exposing her dainty neck to the oil; and finally, when she offered her face for him to bathe, with the relief of a sickly person written on it. Indeed, he knew for sure that his heart must be in the right place: that realm of discovering feelings for another.
Yet his mind had been still drowning in the Orichalcos since that memory of Yugi being taken from him hadn't been erased. He didn't quite understand how that had stayed with him, for that had all passed in another life, and he knew inside that Yugi was alive and well. Yet when he had noticed Rania and had become taken with her at that first meeting, especially after hearing her voice, the Orichalcos' power had perpetuated even further. Just these past moments, the Pharaoh had been experiencing thoughts, aside from his sympathy, seeing Rania lying there, that he was sure would get him thrown into the Lake of Fire had he been in the netherworld.
No! he thought instantly, shaking his head sharply, as he paced his apartments yet again. I must keep myself pure in order to be worthy of her song tomorrow eve.
Striding out to the same balcony he'd looked out from a few days since, Atem clutched the stone around his neck and desperately looked up as Nut's stars spread themselves across the sky. "Gods of Egypt: Ra, Isis, Horus, Hathor. You who are the Sun, the Divine Mother, the Warrior, the guardian of a woman's love, give me the strength I need to overthrow the evil influence of the Orichalcos. I only wish to harness its power to protect the realm, as well as those dear to me, so please, by your guidance, may I see this through with a clear mind."
His short prayer finished, Atem, with the help of a few summoned servants, went and prepared himself for bed, where nothing awaited him but the struggling of a clear conscience against the dark thoughts he had had before.
