Pharaoh's Palace

Desert hot blistering sands, across the ancient desert. It's beaming rays that shine down upon Egypt as it's hotter than any other day. Soldiers stand guard at their posts as they are order to do so, while others walk around making sure the workers are working. The sounds blasting through others ears with the whips stinking on the ground. Hearing those whips makes the workers move faster, fear of being brutalized themselves.

Past the vast sands, and ancient tablets through the villagers pass, is more people who are civilized. For crops, fresh water and clothing that has rags and baggy pants they were. Some wear nothing but an undergarment and a Shaw to protect them from the sun. One glances up at the sky, seeing nothing but a daze of little lights sprinkling down like it was raining. He looks down and feels the sweat again his skin as it feels like sticky cement. He gets up and moves so that he can find shade but to avail no ends.

They all grind through the rocks, pillars stacking them one by one moving the same motions. A Hebrew song that raises their spirits with hope of another day. These people aren't suffering, but they cannot stand working such endlessly. The water being salty, and no wind coming to give a chill of fresh air. Nothing but desert from eyes to eyes, and kisses that burns their necks and skins when being delivered one by a lover. Too hot to touch another, and sweater than someone with hard dehydration.

They wish to move faster and work harder, for they're fair and loyal pharaoh. The one who rules over all, with his priests and guards watching below. Sculptures look like skyscrapers when you reached closer to them, as they resemble the pharaoh and his features. The tablets that showed monsters within them, and ancient spirits and curses surrounded those guarded by the high priest himself. His millennium rod in one arm crossing over with his other, as he stood there watching others and not moving an inch.

Moving through the village and into the palace itself, far beyond the walls and the halls of the pharaohs before the new king. The throne room, sitting inside the chair a young man, with a dull expression upon his face. His left leg crossing over his right, as he sits more relaxed and bored. His hand rested on his cheek, that felt warm and a little sweaty to bare it. He sits his hand up as he felt the fan of someone who was his maid. He glances over at them, as they fan faster, and he sighs by their infuriating fears.

He is not a cruel pharaoh yet his followers fear him in a way, those long narrow eyes, with such intimidation they felt they do wrong. Those eyelashes that was thick, but beautiful when he opened his purple orbs. Shimmering with such exotic feelings and compassion, get could be deadly if doing something stupid. He looked around, then to the front and saw his elegant dancers dancing for him, they're hips moving swaying a way to the sides, they're nipples being exposed, and they're jewelry dangling from they're wrist.

The jingles of them, how they moved when the women did. He felt those sounds consistently inside his ear and it made his fingers scratch the ends of his arm rest. Royal clothes, that he himself felt hot in, the drape of his cape, the golden plated legs and arm wardrobe he wore around him. Dangling gold earrings, with his millennium puzzle upon his neck and his master headpiece he walked around in. From those eyes alone, he knew that he was more powerful than others just by sitting there. Even in such power, he didn't feel he needed it to begin with.

He was wrongly seeking the wrong impressions from his people. Yet couldn't ever speak to them from person to person. His duties always got in the way before he could sit down and relax, if it was people to coming to praise him, not that then people seeking guidance and reassurance of the days to come. Protecting his people meant putting them before himself and his kingdom, as any pharaoh would do if not suffered by greed, yet Atemu never did such things. He was a fair man, and no one could tell him otherwise.

He got up from his chair, and the dancers slowly stop, as they saw their king get up with such ease. The drums that played when they danced around, and the vases that gave off the beauty of the palace, where all at a stand still. Atemu walked off unimpressed by anything that he saw. Some felt their king was never satisfied but never understood why, or what it could possibly be. The screaming tears of those that fell before him die of greed, suffering, loneliness perhaps the king himself could endure the same punishments.

Atemu had walked off and ended up going into another room, while his royal guards had followed him in case of protection. Lifting just one of his hands in a motion meaning to be left alone, the bowed with an ease and left him to his alone time. He sighed as he then removed his cape allowing it to fall to the ground, only allowing his royal clothing to be seen then. His tank top that seemed to be connected to the jewelry he wore, with his undergarments being exposed from the sides. He had his pants being drape from the front and the back, so his thighs and his legs could be seen very easily.

He would whether be naked, than to wear such ridiculous attires day in and day out. Once he finally felt himself alone, a knock went around through his bedroom door. He turned his long narrow eyes towards his golden doors and then his voice with such elegance, confidence, and intensity spoke through his firm lips. "Enter." Nothing more than one word, through Atemu as he didn't like speaking much not since the days of his father's passing. One priest had entered as commanded and she bowed when entering inside his room alone. She then looked at him, with calm and caring eyes, glancing only but softly towards something and back at him with a composed expression.

"My lord, do you need anything?" She would ask him not only but once.

"No." Atemu would state.

She then compelled her eyes to look down at the ground, but didn't wish to leave him so soon. She knew that her pharaoh was in some sort of deep trans, that made him feel gloomy and shallow. She wouldn't feel right being there and nothing making any attempts to condense with him.

"My lord, if something is troubling you, I wish to know so that I am able to help you. It would be my honor to do any and everything for you." She narrated, bowing once more, with a tremble for feeling she pressed him.

He would still stand there, petting his pet bird, for his beautiful white wings and body, told there own story. It was a small bird, who Atemu loved greatly and once saved when he was but a child. He allowed it to sit upon his fingers, that had a soft touch about them, using his left knuckle to gently stroke the birds belly. His cage was right next to the window in a sense, in case the bird ever wish to leave him. Yet, it never did such a thing, as Atemu felt pride in it being so loyal towards him.

He then slowly put it back into hits cage, as it got off his finger, and he didn't bother closing it up. He then rotated his body towards the priest giving her a look of worry for her. She seemed more concern about him, than her husbands recent passing, as it affected the kingdom as a whole. He raised an eyebrow at her statements and Propaganda and nearly spoke anything again.

"No, Isis, I am well. I do not need anything." He proclaimed. Longer wangles this time, yet still nothing but a calm aura from Atemu when he spoke.

Isis then got up looking up before doing so, and feeling her eyes drop down in a failed attempt. " I see." She said softly, and turning in the direction of the door again. She walked to the door, the guards opening it for her as she walked out without saying goodbye as she normally did so. Atemu watched her, and then he walked in the direction of his balcony, as she glanced back at him once more before the golden doors closed shut for the entire day.