Mailk Ishtar had everything. The world was at his feet. Fresh off the battle field, he had successfully executed the siege the Pharaoh had ordered. Malik knew this would put him in his favor; indeed, he did not mind. Malik liked the newly crowned Pharaoh, and was more than willing to pledge his loyalty to him. What's more, the Pharaoh, otherwise known as Atem, and he had been childhood friends. They were both educated together, along with Mana and Seto, the Pharaoh's guardians, in the ways of the court and magic. Malik was proud that Atem was now the ruler of Egypt. Recently, however, Atem had become more warlike; hence, their recent conquest of the rogue village, Kamen. Malik was puzzled by his friend's behavior, and vowed to talk to him about it when he next came to court.

But, that was not a matter for tonight. Tonight, Malik would not be concerned; the Ishtar household was in celebration, throwing an elaborate banquet in honor of the victory. Malik splashed water on face from the gold basin in his private chambers. Carefully, he dried his face with a linen cloth, adjusted his black sarong, and examined his reflection in the polished glass of his mirror, a fairly new luxury in Egypt.

Malik's lavender eyes, noted for their unusual color, stared back at him. His extremely tanned face was framed by his pale, almost golden blonde hair. Malik was good looking, but his coloring was rather strange for an Egyptian. However, his exotic looks had women constantly pestering him and his almost identical brother, Marik. Malik sighed. Sure, he loved bedding a girl as much as the next guy, and he had slept with a fair share of the Pharaoh's court; but, he was beginning to become bored with them. Their mindless chatter and empty conversations made Malik restless. He, unlike his brother, was pretty choosy as to who he slept with. Marik, however, slept with anyone that was willing. Simply put, Malik was not looking forward to women drooling over him tonight. None of them gave chase, anyway; it was far too easy to seduce them. Sometimes, Malik wished for more of a challenge. With one final glance at himself, Malik picked up his gold plate and fastened it carefully, letting hang neatly over his bare chest. Satisfied, he turned and left the room.

Malik reached the atrium of the family parlor, and was surprised to note that only men occupied the room. There, his comrades in battle were raucously laughing, drinking wine. His older brother stood among them.

Malik sidled up to his brother. "What is going on?" he inquired.

Marik grunted. He tossed his long blond hair, which trailed down to his mid back, behind him, casually folding his arms over his torso. Marik noted his casual attire; his brother was merely wearing his white linens around his waist. Like usual, his clothes were inappropriate for the occasion.

"Nothing, dear brother. We are merely celebrating our victory." Marik's face darkened, and then he added, "or, rather, your victory. I am pleased to see you have surpassed me again."

Malik said nothing, and just shrugged calmly. His brother was extremely jealous of him; though younger by two years, Malik had already achieved far more than Marik. Furthermore, he was more popular with the ladies; Malik's fickle taste forced him to be nicer to the young lady he wanted to win over, whereas Marik didn't bother flattering anyone. Marik also treated the noble ladies that wanted 

him like whores; women were equal to men under Egyptian law, but he often talked about women like they were dirt. Malik believed in showing all females respect, even if it was some slut courtier.

"So," Malik continued, engaging his brother once more, "why are there only men here?"

"Oh, you'll see," Marik replied, with a wicked glint in his eyes. "Our father has arranged a surprise for you. Best not turn it down."

Suddenly, the burnished doors opened. Lord Ishtar, their father, stepped out. Behind him were a bunch of women, being dragged by the guards, hands bound behind their backs. Malik could tell by their clothes that they were all from the village of Kamen; some had on rich garb, while others had on the dull robes of servants. They were prodded in a line by Lord Ishtar's soldiers, and were forced to kneel, facing Malik, Marik, and their group of noblemen.

Marik eyed them hungrily. "Oh what I wouldn't give for a good fuck right now."

Malik stared at his brother in disgust. "You know how I feel about screwing slaves. That is what these girls are to become, correct? They are the surviving females from Kamen; our prisoners."

Marik feigned a look of surprise. "What? I was just telling father how bored you've become with the wenches here. For your victory, I insisted he round up some new ones for you. Had I only known you detested the practice, I would never have asked father to give you one."

Malik turned toward his brother angrily. "That is my gift?" he hissed. "You mean I get one of these girls for the night? Marik, you know how I feel about this!"

Marik snickered. "Like I said, best not turn it down. It is extremely rude to a refuse a gift from one's own father."

"You just wanted some for yourself," Marik said through clenched teeth.

"Dear brother, relax. At least try to screw one. It can be empowering you know, especially if you get a feisty one that fights you tooth and nail."

"You sick…"

Lord Ishtar cleared his throat. He was tall and imposing, even at his old age. He was bearded, going gray, and his lavender eyes were hard and cold, much like Marik's. He was wearing a hooded robe, black, and richly adorned with gold threaded trimmings. "My men, tonight we have conquered the rogues of Kamen!" Lord Ishtar yelled.

A cheer erupted from the twenty or so nobles gathered in the chamber.

"My sons in particular have shown great bravery, especially Malik, who put together the strategy that ensured your victory, my men. As a reward, dear son, I ask you to select one of these beautiful young Kamen girls as your permanent attendant and slave. Choose whomever you like! I hope this reward is what you desired."



Politely, Malik replied, "Of course, dear father. I will choose now."

Malik sighed internally. Now he had to pick a girl, and what's more, he would be expected to keep her constantly in his chambers. He hated women; though Malik treated them with respect, he had never met a girl that struck him as educated or talented in any way. They were good for sex, when he needed it, but other than that, their stupid chatter and notions about life were more than he could bear. Reluctantly, he stepped to the line of women. He might as well pick one that was good looking; maybe, if he got bored, he could convince her to have some fun with him.

Malik moved up the line. Most of them, though attractive, were average looking. They had the typical black hair and brown eyes of most Egyptian women. His eyes continued to scan them, bored, until resting on a particularly intriguing quartet. All of them were rather unique looking. One had red hair and gray eyes, one was blond with dark, violet eyes, one had chocolate hair and azure eyes, and the last had eyes a tad lighter than his own, but her hair was a glossy black. Slowly, he strolled towards them. Maybe one of these girls will do, he thought.