*~*DISCLAIMER!!!*~* Yadda, yadda, yadda......you know what i'm gonna put here anyway.....I'm just that predictable! lol!! Anyway, since my Microword is being a dumbass, this ficcie might have some typos, but not much. For those of you who dunno what a Lotus flower is is, its a type of water lilly. 3 *~*Sarah*~*
*~*3003 B.C., the Pharaoh's Palace*~*
The stars, burning bright, glimmered like small torch lights in the inky black sky, as they replaced the last fading glimpses of the noonday sun. The Pharaoh's palace was the spectacle of the night, glittering bright gold due to the massive amounts of torches and moonlight surrounding it in a haze of glory. Yamara was dazzled by the amount of people amassing on its front steps, seething into the home of the Pharaoh. All dressed in their finest, the people of Egypt knew how important this day would become, for it was these festivities that defined the marriages of so many fellow citizens and friends.
These people were wearing their best, dyed or white silk glitening in the tourch light. It made Yamara happy that she had chosen the best dress she owned, the same dress her mother wore when she met her father at this same event. *I miss them like mad,* Yamara sighed, remembering their boating accident on the banks of the Nile. *That day was unhappy fortune for me, to lose both of my parents at the same time.* Walking up the steps, she adjusted the flowing gown she wore, and placed the gilded, artfully decorated mask across her eyes.
It had taken ages to find all the materials needed to make the mask, an essential accessory for the night's dancing and courting. Made from the clay taken from the Nile banks, Yamara had fashioned the silty mud into a figure eight design. The white background of the mask was complemented by the painted azure lotus flowers and flowering vines, like those found in Greece, and the eye holes were encirlced in gold paint.
The mask itself set off her simple, yet elegant dress. Trimmed in gold cording, the dress was meant to befit a queen, and had only passed to the peasant girl upon her mother's death. It was her mother's wedding dress, and meant to be her own, but Yamara decided that the gorgeous, flowing gown should be worn in pride of her parents on this very night. The top bodice was attatched to the thin straps in the back by two gold pentants shaped as stars. The skirt flowed down to her ankles, the sides slit up to mid thigh; it was the perfect dress to allow movement, and dancing. Adorning her feet, soft straw sandals held her feet comfortably in place, ready to take the strain of the night's festivities.
It was a simple gown, but already people were staring at yamara in jealousy.
"Hey, HEY! Yamara!"
Her name being called, Yamara glaced to her left, catching sight of her dear friend. "Hey Midnight. Good evening! How far you this night?"
The Captain of the Guard, dressed in her more formal attire of silken pants and flowing blouse, answered her friend, "I'm alright, although the Head Priest annoys me continually." She huffed in anger, pounding her fist in her hand. "He needs his head dunked in the Nile. However, it wouldnt surprise me if the crocodiles refused to eat something that doesn't know when to shut his mouth."
"Oh come now Midnight, you know in your heart how you really feel for him."
Midnight stared at her friend as if she had gone insane. "HAVE YOU GONE MAD???? He's an idiot! His head's as thick as these blocks of stone!" she stamped her foot on the steps below her, causing a puff of sand to shoot up in the air. "His common sense is that of a CAMEL! As RUDE as one too!"
The two friends sauntered up the steps, one speaking her mind about her secret 'love' and the other listening contently. Entering the Palace walls, Yamara marveled at the architecture and the ancient heiroglyphs enscribed on the walls, telling the stories of her people. Drowning out the ebony and red haired captain, The younger of the two quickly read the history and stories depicted on the outcroppings of stone. As she walked, one scripture quickly caught her eye, making her stop, intriqued:
"O'er the wind swept sands about the Nile,
Full of water and crocodile.
There sits the Pharaoh who rules the sand,
With nothing there to grace his hand.
Sixteen years of decency,
Before thy priests, a mutiny."
"...He is totally...Yamara?"
"Hmm?" replied the ebony haired woman.
"What are you looking at?"
"These scriptures..." she murmered, studying them closer, touching them and finding the wet paint still drying. "I can tell that these were just added."
"They're just scriptures, Yamara! Now hurry up! The fire dancing is about to start!"
Grasping her friend's arm, Midnight yanked the younger of the two towards the gardens beyond, anticipation of participating flashing in her eyes.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*The Pharaoh's Chamber*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Eh, Pharaoh, are you sure about dis?"
Yami smiled at his advisor and friend, as he began to put on the cotton tunic. "It's alright Jono, this is the perfect oppertunity for me to mingle with my guests, as well as find a bride."
"But still Yami, I'm jus' worried that someone's gonna--"
"Going to what? Rob me? Kill me? They don't even know what I look like."
"Yeah you gotta point, but still," replied Jono, brushing his honey blonde hair out of his eyes. "That don't mean that ya ain't in danger!"
Glancing at his friend, the Pharoah smiled, grateful for the young man's loyalty and caring. "Thank you for your concern Jono." Responded the young Pharaoh, finishing the last touches on his attire. "I thank you for worrying so much about my welfare, but I do know what I'm doing."
"I'm glad one of us does. Hey, ya wanna see whatcha look like?" The teenage trickster pulled a golden gilded mirror from the corner of the room, moving random things of gold, silver, bronze and jewels out of his way. Positioning it in front of Yami, the pharoah could see clearly how he looked.
It seemed that Jono picked the clothes out well; the robes of a nobleman, not too expensive or poor, fit Yami well. In a tunic of cotton, dyed a shade of tan and tied in the front by a loose red and gold chord, Yami looked nothing like his title. The soft sandals gave support to his feet, and yet still felt comfortable to wear for dancing. He wore no jewelry or anything to distinguish him as the Pharaoh, except for the scrolling gold ring that adorned his right ring finger. It was enscribed with his family's insigna, and he never took it off for the life of him. One look at that ring, and every guard on the premises would stand at attention under his instruction in an instant.
*Hopefully it won't come to that,* Yami wished, his thoughts becoming jumbled with nervousness of the upcoming dance. *And I hope I may yet find a wife before I lose more than my kingship: I lose Egypt itself.*
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Outside, In the Gardens, Two Hours Later*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
*My feet are going to fly off,* moaned Yamara, her aching soles blistering with so much dancing. The festivities had been active for quite a while now, and the young lady had danced with nearly everyone in Egypt. Several of the Pharaoh's court had asked her to dance, but when they moved to her mask, she slapped their hands away, a sign of her resiliance and disapproval. *These men don't catch my eyes,* she thought, as yet another gentleman swept her away in a brisk step. He was handsome, with black hair and beard, but definately not her type. Halfway through the dance he quickly reached for her mask, and swifter still, she swatted his hands away. Eyes wide in disgust, he uttered a few words in Arabic, and then stalked away.
However, being a linguist herself, Arabic was one of her specialty languages. *How RUDE!* She raged in her mind, as yet another gentleman stepped in and danced with her. *That Arabic man is the one who's a crocodile's slop!*
She smiled at her partner, only to be shocked in return. The man grinned slyly, his dark brown hair in his eyes. "Hello Yamara, it seems we meet again."
Yamara narrowed her eyes. "Head Priest Seto...and what do I owe this pleasure to?"
"What makes you think that there is something I want?"
"Seto, you ALWAYS come to me when you want something, usually something that includes Midnight."
His smile grew wider. "Yes, about Midnight..."
"Whatever it is, I don't want a part of it." she snapped, her anger flaring. "Besides, how did you know it was me behind this mask? I could have sworn everyone could be fooled."
Seto's dark blue eyes glistened. "Well, when someone starts muttering 'rude obscenities' about a black haired 'crocodile slop' I had to figure it was you."
Yamara looked Seto straight in the eyes, undaunted and unchallenged. "I think this dance is quite over."
Staring back, his pupils dialated slightly, reading her expressions and her demeanor. "Fine... I will find another way." Ending the dance, he reached for the mask on her face; before coming centimeters away from it, Yamara slapped his hand aside, extra hard. Scowling, he sucked on the red, blotchy mark appearing, and stalked off, angry.
"FINALLY..." the black haired lady breathed, out of breath and tired. *Finally I can enjoy a moment of peace...*
She spoke too soon. Swift as a flock of doves, she was swooped up again, dancing with another man.
*~~~~~*~~~~~*
The crowds were loud and obnoxious, unknowning of the fact that their pharaoh was walking among them. Jono had insisted that he stay at Yami's side, and for once, Yami was in agreement. Jono knew the people, and as a friend and guide, he was more valuable than a troop of guards.
*Speaking of the guards,* thought Yami, catching a familiar sight out of the corner of his eye. *It seems that Head Priest Seto hasn't given up on his love sick dreams.* Grinning at the sight of poor Seto, trying to entice his 'lady love' and Midnight having nothing to do with it...well, it was all very entertaining.
"Hey Yami," whispered Jono, staring to the right. "You might find dis interestin'..." he pointed to the woman a few paces away, staring at the 'lucky' couple of the Captain and the Priest. The woman licked her blood red lips, staring at Midnight with luster. Her eyes were sultry and seductive, a sign of attraction. As Seto and Midnight drew resiliantly closer to each other, mainly from what antics Seto was marking himself a fool with, the woman staring began to growl, feral and protective.
"Isn't... that..."
"Yeah, Demona don't look too pleased with the comfy cozy stuff 'tween dose two."
"..."
"Yeah, I know: WIERD."
The sounds of cheering and clapping halted the two friends' conversation, as a chant arose from the crowd: "DANCE! DANCE! DANCE!" Intrigued, the two friends pushed through the crowd, trying to see what was going on.
A flash of long, ebony hair moving quite fast raced into Yami's view, and held him breathless. A young woman was dancing with a man, and by the looks of it, she had not stopped dancing since she came here. She was beautiful in a gold embroidered gown, and matching sandals. If her apparel was breathtaking, her eyes were the most captivating. From what flashes of light he saw in them, he could have sworn her eyes had befallen from the best of stars. "Her eyes... so clear indigo..." murmered the Pharaoh, taken aback from the beauty of this woman. *No one has taken her mask off... no one has taken it off to reveal her face...*
The two kept dancing, spinning in circles, faster and faster as the music played on and on. Finally, the man stopped dancing, smiled, and reached for her mask. Dismayed, for he was sure the woman would pick her parter as her husband, he looked away, while the crowd cheered the suitor on.
It was barely seconds afterwards where a collective gasp drew Yami's head around, wide eyed at what he saw. The woman, still cloaked in her mask, still stood, her suitor's hand slightly red from her slap.
*~~~~~*~~~~~*
*Well, enother one bites the sand,* Yamara sighed, her feet aching from dancing so much. Hobbling off slightly, she started to part the crowd, and was about to be free of the chanting circle when a voice came behind her. "Excuse me Miss, but, may I ask a dance?"
Those few words caught her off guard, unused to the simple manners of kindness. "I'm sorry kind Sir," she began, turning to face the voice, "But..."
The sight of her addressor was mesmerizing. His eyes dusk shaded violet, as if the Sun had set across his eyes. He was handsome, courteous, kind... he looked to be a schooled man, and his appearance decieving. His fire red hair complmented his blonde bangs, and his handsome face was youthful and promising. *He...he teaches the peacocks to be handsome!*
Yamara's voice caught in her throat, unable to say exactly what she had been thinking before. "I'm... uh... um..."
Confusion slightly masked his features. "You're sorry...? For what, may I ask?"
"For... not... dancing... with you sooner," she replied, never taking her indigo eyes off his violet ones. swiftly, she was at his side, studying every aspect of his face, as if he was one of the books of knowledge she had so fondly engrossed herself in.
He smiled, a pleasant, heartfelt tenderness upon his features. Yamara's heart jumped in her chest, pounding the beats of the drums of the music beginning to play.
The man took her hand, her petite one in his soft commanding one, and placed one on her hip. Both were welcoming warmths, ones that Yamara surprised herself into admitting that she had missed for so long. Warmths she had never felt in quite the same way before.
The two began to waltz, hand in hand, heart to heart, soul to soul until the music had softly ended. Gently, the man reached for her mask, glided in scarlet, emerald, gold and azure blue. Yamara closed her eyes blissfully, and never moved an inch, as he peeled the clay veil from her face, and exposed her true face to the world.
*~*3003 B.C., the Pharaoh's Palace*~*
The stars, burning bright, glimmered like small torch lights in the inky black sky, as they replaced the last fading glimpses of the noonday sun. The Pharaoh's palace was the spectacle of the night, glittering bright gold due to the massive amounts of torches and moonlight surrounding it in a haze of glory. Yamara was dazzled by the amount of people amassing on its front steps, seething into the home of the Pharaoh. All dressed in their finest, the people of Egypt knew how important this day would become, for it was these festivities that defined the marriages of so many fellow citizens and friends.
These people were wearing their best, dyed or white silk glitening in the tourch light. It made Yamara happy that she had chosen the best dress she owned, the same dress her mother wore when she met her father at this same event. *I miss them like mad,* Yamara sighed, remembering their boating accident on the banks of the Nile. *That day was unhappy fortune for me, to lose both of my parents at the same time.* Walking up the steps, she adjusted the flowing gown she wore, and placed the gilded, artfully decorated mask across her eyes.
It had taken ages to find all the materials needed to make the mask, an essential accessory for the night's dancing and courting. Made from the clay taken from the Nile banks, Yamara had fashioned the silty mud into a figure eight design. The white background of the mask was complemented by the painted azure lotus flowers and flowering vines, like those found in Greece, and the eye holes were encirlced in gold paint.
The mask itself set off her simple, yet elegant dress. Trimmed in gold cording, the dress was meant to befit a queen, and had only passed to the peasant girl upon her mother's death. It was her mother's wedding dress, and meant to be her own, but Yamara decided that the gorgeous, flowing gown should be worn in pride of her parents on this very night. The top bodice was attatched to the thin straps in the back by two gold pentants shaped as stars. The skirt flowed down to her ankles, the sides slit up to mid thigh; it was the perfect dress to allow movement, and dancing. Adorning her feet, soft straw sandals held her feet comfortably in place, ready to take the strain of the night's festivities.
It was a simple gown, but already people were staring at yamara in jealousy.
"Hey, HEY! Yamara!"
Her name being called, Yamara glaced to her left, catching sight of her dear friend. "Hey Midnight. Good evening! How far you this night?"
The Captain of the Guard, dressed in her more formal attire of silken pants and flowing blouse, answered her friend, "I'm alright, although the Head Priest annoys me continually." She huffed in anger, pounding her fist in her hand. "He needs his head dunked in the Nile. However, it wouldnt surprise me if the crocodiles refused to eat something that doesn't know when to shut his mouth."
"Oh come now Midnight, you know in your heart how you really feel for him."
Midnight stared at her friend as if she had gone insane. "HAVE YOU GONE MAD???? He's an idiot! His head's as thick as these blocks of stone!" she stamped her foot on the steps below her, causing a puff of sand to shoot up in the air. "His common sense is that of a CAMEL! As RUDE as one too!"
The two friends sauntered up the steps, one speaking her mind about her secret 'love' and the other listening contently. Entering the Palace walls, Yamara marveled at the architecture and the ancient heiroglyphs enscribed on the walls, telling the stories of her people. Drowning out the ebony and red haired captain, The younger of the two quickly read the history and stories depicted on the outcroppings of stone. As she walked, one scripture quickly caught her eye, making her stop, intriqued:
"O'er the wind swept sands about the Nile,
Full of water and crocodile.
There sits the Pharaoh who rules the sand,
With nothing there to grace his hand.
Sixteen years of decency,
Before thy priests, a mutiny."
"...He is totally...Yamara?"
"Hmm?" replied the ebony haired woman.
"What are you looking at?"
"These scriptures..." she murmered, studying them closer, touching them and finding the wet paint still drying. "I can tell that these were just added."
"They're just scriptures, Yamara! Now hurry up! The fire dancing is about to start!"
Grasping her friend's arm, Midnight yanked the younger of the two towards the gardens beyond, anticipation of participating flashing in her eyes.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*The Pharaoh's Chamber*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Eh, Pharaoh, are you sure about dis?"
Yami smiled at his advisor and friend, as he began to put on the cotton tunic. "It's alright Jono, this is the perfect oppertunity for me to mingle with my guests, as well as find a bride."
"But still Yami, I'm jus' worried that someone's gonna--"
"Going to what? Rob me? Kill me? They don't even know what I look like."
"Yeah you gotta point, but still," replied Jono, brushing his honey blonde hair out of his eyes. "That don't mean that ya ain't in danger!"
Glancing at his friend, the Pharoah smiled, grateful for the young man's loyalty and caring. "Thank you for your concern Jono." Responded the young Pharaoh, finishing the last touches on his attire. "I thank you for worrying so much about my welfare, but I do know what I'm doing."
"I'm glad one of us does. Hey, ya wanna see whatcha look like?" The teenage trickster pulled a golden gilded mirror from the corner of the room, moving random things of gold, silver, bronze and jewels out of his way. Positioning it in front of Yami, the pharoah could see clearly how he looked.
It seemed that Jono picked the clothes out well; the robes of a nobleman, not too expensive or poor, fit Yami well. In a tunic of cotton, dyed a shade of tan and tied in the front by a loose red and gold chord, Yami looked nothing like his title. The soft sandals gave support to his feet, and yet still felt comfortable to wear for dancing. He wore no jewelry or anything to distinguish him as the Pharaoh, except for the scrolling gold ring that adorned his right ring finger. It was enscribed with his family's insigna, and he never took it off for the life of him. One look at that ring, and every guard on the premises would stand at attention under his instruction in an instant.
*Hopefully it won't come to that,* Yami wished, his thoughts becoming jumbled with nervousness of the upcoming dance. *And I hope I may yet find a wife before I lose more than my kingship: I lose Egypt itself.*
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Outside, In the Gardens, Two Hours Later*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
*My feet are going to fly off,* moaned Yamara, her aching soles blistering with so much dancing. The festivities had been active for quite a while now, and the young lady had danced with nearly everyone in Egypt. Several of the Pharaoh's court had asked her to dance, but when they moved to her mask, she slapped their hands away, a sign of her resiliance and disapproval. *These men don't catch my eyes,* she thought, as yet another gentleman swept her away in a brisk step. He was handsome, with black hair and beard, but definately not her type. Halfway through the dance he quickly reached for her mask, and swifter still, she swatted his hands away. Eyes wide in disgust, he uttered a few words in Arabic, and then stalked away.
However, being a linguist herself, Arabic was one of her specialty languages. *How RUDE!* She raged in her mind, as yet another gentleman stepped in and danced with her. *That Arabic man is the one who's a crocodile's slop!*
She smiled at her partner, only to be shocked in return. The man grinned slyly, his dark brown hair in his eyes. "Hello Yamara, it seems we meet again."
Yamara narrowed her eyes. "Head Priest Seto...and what do I owe this pleasure to?"
"What makes you think that there is something I want?"
"Seto, you ALWAYS come to me when you want something, usually something that includes Midnight."
His smile grew wider. "Yes, about Midnight..."
"Whatever it is, I don't want a part of it." she snapped, her anger flaring. "Besides, how did you know it was me behind this mask? I could have sworn everyone could be fooled."
Seto's dark blue eyes glistened. "Well, when someone starts muttering 'rude obscenities' about a black haired 'crocodile slop' I had to figure it was you."
Yamara looked Seto straight in the eyes, undaunted and unchallenged. "I think this dance is quite over."
Staring back, his pupils dialated slightly, reading her expressions and her demeanor. "Fine... I will find another way." Ending the dance, he reached for the mask on her face; before coming centimeters away from it, Yamara slapped his hand aside, extra hard. Scowling, he sucked on the red, blotchy mark appearing, and stalked off, angry.
"FINALLY..." the black haired lady breathed, out of breath and tired. *Finally I can enjoy a moment of peace...*
She spoke too soon. Swift as a flock of doves, she was swooped up again, dancing with another man.
*~~~~~*~~~~~*
The crowds were loud and obnoxious, unknowning of the fact that their pharaoh was walking among them. Jono had insisted that he stay at Yami's side, and for once, Yami was in agreement. Jono knew the people, and as a friend and guide, he was more valuable than a troop of guards.
*Speaking of the guards,* thought Yami, catching a familiar sight out of the corner of his eye. *It seems that Head Priest Seto hasn't given up on his love sick dreams.* Grinning at the sight of poor Seto, trying to entice his 'lady love' and Midnight having nothing to do with it...well, it was all very entertaining.
"Hey Yami," whispered Jono, staring to the right. "You might find dis interestin'..." he pointed to the woman a few paces away, staring at the 'lucky' couple of the Captain and the Priest. The woman licked her blood red lips, staring at Midnight with luster. Her eyes were sultry and seductive, a sign of attraction. As Seto and Midnight drew resiliantly closer to each other, mainly from what antics Seto was marking himself a fool with, the woman staring began to growl, feral and protective.
"Isn't... that..."
"Yeah, Demona don't look too pleased with the comfy cozy stuff 'tween dose two."
"..."
"Yeah, I know: WIERD."
The sounds of cheering and clapping halted the two friends' conversation, as a chant arose from the crowd: "DANCE! DANCE! DANCE!" Intrigued, the two friends pushed through the crowd, trying to see what was going on.
A flash of long, ebony hair moving quite fast raced into Yami's view, and held him breathless. A young woman was dancing with a man, and by the looks of it, she had not stopped dancing since she came here. She was beautiful in a gold embroidered gown, and matching sandals. If her apparel was breathtaking, her eyes were the most captivating. From what flashes of light he saw in them, he could have sworn her eyes had befallen from the best of stars. "Her eyes... so clear indigo..." murmered the Pharaoh, taken aback from the beauty of this woman. *No one has taken her mask off... no one has taken it off to reveal her face...*
The two kept dancing, spinning in circles, faster and faster as the music played on and on. Finally, the man stopped dancing, smiled, and reached for her mask. Dismayed, for he was sure the woman would pick her parter as her husband, he looked away, while the crowd cheered the suitor on.
It was barely seconds afterwards where a collective gasp drew Yami's head around, wide eyed at what he saw. The woman, still cloaked in her mask, still stood, her suitor's hand slightly red from her slap.
*~~~~~*~~~~~*
*Well, enother one bites the sand,* Yamara sighed, her feet aching from dancing so much. Hobbling off slightly, she started to part the crowd, and was about to be free of the chanting circle when a voice came behind her. "Excuse me Miss, but, may I ask a dance?"
Those few words caught her off guard, unused to the simple manners of kindness. "I'm sorry kind Sir," she began, turning to face the voice, "But..."
The sight of her addressor was mesmerizing. His eyes dusk shaded violet, as if the Sun had set across his eyes. He was handsome, courteous, kind... he looked to be a schooled man, and his appearance decieving. His fire red hair complmented his blonde bangs, and his handsome face was youthful and promising. *He...he teaches the peacocks to be handsome!*
Yamara's voice caught in her throat, unable to say exactly what she had been thinking before. "I'm... uh... um..."
Confusion slightly masked his features. "You're sorry...? For what, may I ask?"
"For... not... dancing... with you sooner," she replied, never taking her indigo eyes off his violet ones. swiftly, she was at his side, studying every aspect of his face, as if he was one of the books of knowledge she had so fondly engrossed herself in.
He smiled, a pleasant, heartfelt tenderness upon his features. Yamara's heart jumped in her chest, pounding the beats of the drums of the music beginning to play.
The man took her hand, her petite one in his soft commanding one, and placed one on her hip. Both were welcoming warmths, ones that Yamara surprised herself into admitting that she had missed for so long. Warmths she had never felt in quite the same way before.
The two began to waltz, hand in hand, heart to heart, soul to soul until the music had softly ended. Gently, the man reached for her mask, glided in scarlet, emerald, gold and azure blue. Yamara closed her eyes blissfully, and never moved an inch, as he peeled the clay veil from her face, and exposed her true face to the world.