The Pharaoh and the Persian

by AG the master

AU. Ancient Egypt. Alisa's a runaway from home. Atemu's a reluctant Pharaoh. They meet after Alisa is caught stealing from a fruit stand. Love is sure to happen right? Wrong. They hate each other. That may change, but will the end of the world come first?

4. Important

Important

Ok, Here's the deal with this story. I have through chapter 8 of this written and it looks as if it's going to be about 20 chapters. Unfortunately, work on it is very sporatic, depending on my schedule and inspiration. It WILL be finished, in time. My goal is the end of this coming school year, but again, it depends. So would, if anyone is still reading this, you rather that I update what I have when I have it, or wait until I'm done and give regular updates. Please, if anyone is still reading this let me know what you think!

Also, Having just read the Half-Blood Prince (total pwnage) I am considering actually getting around to doing the sequel for Destinies Interwined which would involve Harry Potter. However, it seems a bit silly to do such because 6/7 books are already out and by the time I finish the sequel, it is likely book 7 will be out. Again, please let me know what you think.

I'm posting part of a chapter with this just so that the story won't be deleted for having author's notes. I don't think that I've posted this one already, so if not, um… consider it a teaser:D Thanks for the time.

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Atemu's POV

Lived. That was the only way to descibe how I felt. Not only had I let the slave sleep in my bed, but I was going to be nice to her. Does she even know how rare that is?

"You will return to the palace," I commanded, pointing one of my curved knives at the girl. I pointed to the albino looking male. "You will leave, or you will die. IT is your choice."

The male grinned and gegan to pull out his own curved sythe.

"Bekhura, no! Just leave, I'll go back," the girl shouted.

"No Alisa, I'm not going to let this scumbag defile you."

"But you will be killed," she whimpered. "And I couldn't live with myself if I let that happen to you." She began to cry and walk back to the palace.

The albino, Bekhura he was called, grabbed her arm. "I'm getting you out of here," he said firmly.

"No just leave," she said, wretching her arm out of his grasp and dashing toward the palace.

"Aww," I taunted, for some reason jeaslously perking in my mind

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