I got a couple of nice reviews for the last chapter and I definitely appreciate them. Let's see if you're equally happy with what I have in mind next. After all, we have a few more years at least until Ahkmenrah ends up in that sarcophagus. Which means that there is plenty of time to observe what is the perfect example of sibling rivalry turned up to eleven. Because Kahmunrah's initial reaction to his little brother isn't going to get any better.

On a slightly connected note, I looked up some ages of the actors at the time they first appeared in the franchise. The actor for Ahkmenrah was 25 in the first film, the one for Kahmunrah was 45 in the second, and the actor for Merenkahre was 70 and Shepsheret's actress was 45 when they appeared in the third film. I'm not saying they will end up at those particular ages at the times of their deaths. But at least it gives me a range to work with in case I need it.

Anyway, on with the story. Time to get another glimpse into Ahkmenrah and Kahmunrah's childhood and other things.

Inspiration had struck when he first saw Ahkmenrah, the small and perfect child somehow more wondrous than any of the sights and treasures of Egypt. He'd been a gift from the gods, a child born after he'd given up hope of Shepsheret ever having one. And it was a son, a brother for young Kahmunrah. For Merenkahre, his family seemed perfect and he never wanted to divide them. That was why he was so inspired to find a way to keep them together for all time.

Figuring out how to make his dream a reality, to achieve something never before conceived by the past pharaohs, was a challenge. He knew only the gods would be able to do such a thing. He would need their power and blessing before it would work. He wasn't certain how many or which gods he would ultimately need to call upon and what method to use. It was a difficult and complicated problem, but Merenkahre knew how to get started.

For the more common and simple forms of magic, he would call on the priests of whichever god or goddess would rule that domain. It was simple enough to get an amulet or a spell for the more usual problems. For rarer magics, he would need to consult an expert. Someone well-versed and knowledgeable in how to craft something new and unusual. So he summoned the high priestess for Isis.

No one could doubt the power of Isis. The goddess of health, marriage, children, wisdom, rebirth and reincarnation, and motherhood, she was also a protector of the dead and the patron of nature and magic. Her influence was everywhere, touching every aspect of life. She was a powerful sorcerer, clever, and strong-willed. The stories said that she once tricked Ra himself into telling her his secret name, giving her power over him. She gained that knowledge by causing a snake bite to Ra and only providing the antidote when he told her. No one could ever doubt the goddess's power.

Her priests and priestesses, similarly, were skilled with magic and knowledge. They held a reputation for great wisdom and healing powers. They could interpret dreams to explain what the message from the gods might be and some could even influence the weather by weaving certain braids and knots into their hair. If anyone would know how to do what Merenkahre required, it would be those who served Isis.

The priestess of Isis arrived wearing a garment of white linen and with her hair arranged in a series of thin, complicated braids. She was older than Shepsheret, who was decades younger than her husband, but not yet so old that her beauty was destroyed by passage of time. While she greeted him with respect as anyone should, there was always a little less awe when dealing with priests. They directly served the gods and goddesses, performing the most sacred and important rituals just as he did. It wasn't quite as intimidating for them to face a descendant of Ra as it would be for a servant, soldier, or scribe.

"My king, how may the priesthood of Isis serve you?" she asked.

"Priestess Neferhetep, I seek the knowledge and wisdom of Isis. Both of my sons are precious to me. I treasure them above all else. What I require is a way to always keep those I love them with me. I wish to never be separated from them, neither by time or death."

Trying to hide her surprise at his desires, she said, "Death comes to all, my king. Nothing can change that. Even Isis herself could only reverse her husband's death for a night and a day before Osiris was forced to return to the underworld where he still rules even now. What you ask is impossible. Can you not be satisfied that, if they should pass the dangers of the underworld and their heart should be found pure, your family can reunite in the underworld after death?"

Part of Merenkahre didn't want to admit aloud what fears plagued his mind. Fears were not something a pharaoh was meant to display to his people. But the concerns had lurked out of sight for years and it would be wise to pay them heed. Perhaps seeking the wisdom of Isis would help.

"This is a secret that you must never reveal, priestess. At the birth of each of my sons, their fortunes were told," the pharaoh said carefully. "I do not know if either shall come to pass. But one of them promises dark things for my child and I am not certain if he would be able to pass the scales. I do not wish for my son's heart to be devoured. I seek a solution to find another way."

"I shall not ask which child or what was foreseen that makes you worry that his heart will be weighed down," Neferhetep said slowly. "That knowledge is not meant for me, though I urge you to take that warning seriously."

She glanced around the large chamber thoughtfully. While Merenkahre often spoke to large numbers of priests, scribes, and representatives of various corners of Egypt in the space, it was empty and silent for the moment. Only the pharaoh and the priestess were present. When he stated he was to be left alone and that no one was to disturb him, no one would dare to argue. His word was law. As it was with his father and his father before him.

With only a slight hint of hesitation, the priestess said carefully, "I am not certain I have the exact answer that you seek, my king. But I might know a way to keep your family together even after death claims you. It shall be complicated, but it may work."

"What is it?"

"Only the priests of Thoth may have more knowledge than us, though we know many of the more powerful and rare magics. And I have read even the most sacred scrolls," she said. "There exists a powerful enchantment, one that man has never attempted, that can affect the body or image of any who stands within a temple, palace, tomb, home, or other structure."

Curious, Merenkahre asked, "How would it affect them?"

"The effects of the enchantment and how long they last, for they are always temporary, depend on which god or goddess gives their blessing and power. If it is one who is connected to the underworld or creates life in some form, it may restore or give life to whoever the enchantment affects."

The pharaoh pondered over her words carefully. It could work. If the enchantment could be created and his family placed in the same tomb, it would give their bodies life and they would never be separated. It was what he'd hoped for.

"But having a god provide that much power for an enchantment such as that would be difficult. It would take someone already favored by them," she continued. "And though Horus is god of the pharaohs, he does not have the proper connection to the underworld or creating life that you require. And though you are descended from Ra, he will not help in any spell that was created by Isis or her priests unless forced. It would be wise to beseech another."

For a moment, the pharaoh began to worry that all hope was lost. Then Khemsait's words returned to him and he smiled. His youngest son would provide the answer to the problem.

"Ahkmenrah, my son, is favored by Khonsu," he said with a small smile. "This was foretold on the day of his birth. Khonsu is not only the god of the moon, but he is also involved in the creation of new life. Would he not serve our purpose?"

"Yes," she said slowly. "Yes, that could work. If the enchantment was created in his name, Khonsu may bless the object with his power. I would need to research the spell more closely and it would require the assistance of both his priests and craftsmen from the temple of Sokar."

"Why the craftsmen for Sokar? They would have to travel all the way from Memphis."

"The enchantment is to be placed upon on a tablet crafted from gold. One that must be forged exactly as described in the sacred scrolls," she explained. "Only the greatest craftsmen, those who are chosen to serve Sokar's priests, would have the talent for such a project."

"If this is what is required, then I shall see that it is done," stated Merenkahre.

It was quite a gathering of people who stood before the pharaoh. Wajmose stared around at the various members of the temples and craftsmen. In addition to his fellow goldsmiths, those who were the most skilled and sent by the priest of Sokar specifically, he could spot a priestess for Isis and several priests for Khonsu. Wajmose could not help wondering why such a unique assortment of people was summoned before the pharaoh.

The priestess of Isis stepped forward and said, "I am Neferhetep, high priestess for Isis. Pharaoh Merenkahre requires that we craft a tablet of gold, one that shall gain power from Khonsu."

For several minutes, the priestess spoke with the various priests for Khonsu. Wajmose wasn't particularly concerned with those details. All he needed to know was the shapes necessary for the mold when it came time to pour the gold. He didn't need to know the more magical concerns for the project. Wajmose was more practical and straightforward about his particular skills. He may craft beautiful objects intended for magical purposes, but he was never the one who called upon gods to give them power or designed the necessary shapes and patterns of hieroglyphs. That was the work of the priests.

"What you propose may be possible," one of Khonsu's priests remarked, nodding to Priestess Neferhetep. "If you want it to reach its full potential, it must only be worked on during the night. This tablet cannot be crafted during the day, only during the hours that Khonsu may watch over us. It will take time, especially with all the spells you say must be used during the process. But it can be done."

"You shall be given quarters and all that you might require during the time necessary to craft the tablet," stated Merenkahre solemnly. "Any resource or tools will be provided and you shall be well rewarded for your work."

The gathered craftsmen and priests nodded in thanks to his offer. Wajmose knew he would be away from his home and wife for quite some time, but it would be a great honor to create something at the request of the pharaoh. His brother would take care of his family in his absence and it would be worth it. He could provide a better life for his family if he and the other craftsman succeeded.

So he listened carefully as part of the conversation turned towards the construction of the tablet, contemplating the challenge of the smaller panels in the center that must be able to be changed to other images. The idea of devising a way for them to flip around somehow began to germinate near the back of his mind. The challenge was intriguing.

Raia loved her little Kahmunrah.

She'd become the wet-nurse for the young prince after her own child died less than an hour after his birth, leaving her with milk available for the motherless babe. And for years, she took care of him. Anything that he might need, from food to attention to love, she was happy to provide. The stout woman would do whatever was necessary to take care of the future pharaoh.

It was probably why she been assigned as a general servant to assist the young prince after he out grew the need for a wet-nurse. He reacted better to her than some of the other servants, something that others noticed. It was why she was currently mending some clothes while watching him and his friend instead of working in another part of the palace. She was still needed by Kahmunrah.

He may call Queen Shepsheret "Mother," but Raia knew she deserved that title as well.

"Hit harder, Thuity," ordered Kahmunrah. "And stop flinching."

The skinny scribe's son tried to do as commanded, raising the stick higher to block the forceful hit. Kahmunrah moved through several of the moves he'd been taught, the wooden staff serving in place of a blade. While Hekaib's lessons that focused solely on knowledge and history were considered dry and dull, the lessons about combat and weapon usage were met with enthusiasm. He relished the chance to practice the violent moves and often forced Thuity to his sparring partner.

Kahmunrah had grown up so fast. Raia couldn't help thinking about it as the young prince blocked Thuity's weak strike. Soon, in less than a year, his side-lock of youth would be shaved off. He'd even been married to Aneksi, though they would not treat each other as husband and wife until they were older. The girl, after all, was only six years old. Regardless, he was growing up and would soon be considered a man.

"Brother," a young and excited voice called as a small figure scurried out to the courtyard. "Play?"

"Go away, Ahkmenrah," growled Kahmunrah, not bothering to even look at the younger prince.

"Play?" the four year old boy repeated hopefully.

"Go away. Muyet is supposed to be watching you," the older boy snarled.

Kahmunrah took another swing at Thuity, though his stick nearly managed to hit the small child in the process. Raia wasn't even certain that it was an accident. She'd always sensed a certain amount of animosity from the older boy towards his sibling. He resented Ahkmenrah's existence even though the small child clearly adored him. And young Kahmunrah didn't even know the biggest reason why he should hate his brother.

Raia heard both of their fortunes foretold by the priestess of Hathor. She heard and remembered every word. She remembered how Kahmurah was portrayed as a terrible monster, horrible things promised for his future. The woman refused to believe such a thing of the child she helped raise. But when Ahkmenrah was born with a far more pleasant-sounding future, it made it easier for the younger brother to be preferred. Now any minor flaw or mistake that Kahmunrah might make would leave the pharaoh and his queen wondering if it was the start of his darkness while they could be relieved that at least one son wasn't destined for evil.

She knew those thoughts lurked in their minds. Raia could see it on their faces when the elder prince smirked at the idea of troublesome slaves being whipped or complaining about showing mercy. They thought there was something wrong with Kahmunrah, something that was growing worse as he aged. Without Ahkmenrah's fortune to compare it to, those doubts about the young prince wouldn't fester like this. The woman didn't know what would happen in the future for the two boys, but she was afraid it would not end well for Kahmunrah.

"Ahkmenrah, come away from your brother," called Muyet, racing out towards him. "You don't want to be hurt by accident."

The small child nodded and ran back towards the servant. Once the young boy was within reach, she scooped him up and started carrying him away. Ahkmenrah only spared a moment to wave at his brother before resting his head on Muyet's shoulder.

"Would it be so bad to play with your brother every now and then?" remarked Thuity as the child was carried out of sight. "He doesn't seem so bad."

And as much as she loved little Kahmunrah, the brief look in his eyes in response to his friend's words frightened Raia. It reminded her of a lion staring at an antelope. But the momentary expression evaporated quickly as he gave the scribe's son a pleasant smile.

"So you don't think he's that bad? I suppose he might have his good points," the prince remarked carefully.

Thuity appeared slightly concerned by his mild reaction, but nodded in response to Kahmunrah's words. Even as he continued to go through the strikes and blocks with the sticks, the prince maintained his calm and collected tone. Each movement was sharp and forceful as before, but there was something strange about it.

"He's not so bad," said Kahmunrah evenly. "In fact, he's such a good baby brother. Mother adores him. Father thinks he's as precious as gold. Our sisters think he's just so sweet, but who cares what they think. My point is that everyone likes him even if he has no place here."

Once she saw the growing look of fear on Thuity's face, Raia realized that the prince wasn't quite sparring anymore. There was too much speed and force behind Kahmunrah's strikes and the scribe's son could barely block them in time. And regardless of how quickly he was turning it into actual combat, the prince's voice remained friendly.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised you'd prefer him too," said Kahmunrah.

His wooden staff hit with a sharp crack.

"They probably wish he'd been born first."

Crack.

"Then their little Ahkmenrah would be pharaoh someday."

Crack.

"But I'm the eldest."

Crack.

"It's my throne."

Crack.

"He'll never have what is mine."

Crack.

"Never."

Crack!

"Yaauugh!"

Raia stared in horror when Thuity missed a block and took a hit directly to the arm. But Kahmunrah didn't even hesitate or slow down. He rained down blows on his childhood playmate, his expression surprisingly and unnervingly gleeful as he beat him. And he kept talking, each word punctuated with a strike and a yelp from Thuity.

"The throne. Mother. Father. The kingdom. And you. All mine. Not. His."

"Kahmunrah," yelled Raia, managing to shake herself free of her shock.

Her words managed to catch his attention, his arm pausing in mid-swing. For a moment, the former wet-nurse was certain there was a look of annoyance at being interrupted. But then an expression of vague remorse slid into place with such ease that Raia decided she must have been wrong before.

"What a terrible accident," he said. "How truly awful. Who knew sparring could be so dangerous?"

The woman silently thanked the gods that there was no one else in the courtyard to witness the young prince's actions. Word of this would only concern the pharaoh and the queen. It would make them believe the priestess's predictions. Raia knew otherwise. It was a mistake, a moment of temper. Her little Kahmunrah was a good boy.

What he did to poor Thuity, however, wasn't particularly good. The scribe's son was a little older than the prince, his side-lock of youth already gone, but he was a skinny young man with thin arms. And those arms were now covered in thick welts and cuts, along with his shoulders, chest, and face. Raia knew there would be bruises in the morning. At the moment, he was staring up at Kahmunrah in fear through the blood and swelling.

"Thuity, you fell down the steps," the woman said firmly. "Do you understand? You fell. That is all."

Never letting his gaze leave the prince, Thuity nodded nervously. Raia helped him to his feet and the older boy limped away. She knew he would keep silent. He knew better.

Noticing that there were a few splatters of blood on his hands, she told the prince, "Go clean up and I'll take care of everything, Kahmunrah."

He nodded calmly and walked out of the courtyard without a word. Raia knew that he'd do as she asked and Thuity would keep silent. She could fix this and no one would know what happened. No one would blame the prince. She would protect him.

Ahkmenrah threw his ball again and chased after it as it bounced off the wall and rolled behind Muyet. He wished that Kahmunrah would play with him, but his brother could be so grouchy sometimes. He'd rather play with Thuity and their sticks. The small child hoped his brother would play with him more when he got older.

He knew Kahmunrah would be like Father someday. He'd be important and wear the thing on his head, the Pschent crown. Ahkmenrah wasn't sure what a pharaoh did, but he knew it was why Father was often busy and it was what Kahmunrah would be someday. It also meant that his brother would someday be even busier than now, so Ahkmenrah wanted to play with his older brother while he still could. He liked his brother, even if he was grumpy someday.

Maybe he would play tomorrow. The small child could only hope as he chased after the ball some more.

I think I covered enough info on Isis in the text of the story and I mentioned Khonsu in the last chapter pretty thoroughly.

Sokar (also spelled as Seker) was another falcon-headed god, a lot of his worship focused in Memphis. He was another god with connections to the underworld and he was a patron of those who made ritual objects and substances used in mummification. He's supposed to be involved with the "Opening of the Mouth Ceremony," which is a specific instant during the funeral preparations. He was also a patron of goldsmiths. And one of his titles is translates into "mouth of the passages," which is thought to be talking about mouth of the passages to the underworld. He does get pretty complicated since he gets sort of combined with Osiris and Ptah later in history (the combined form referred to as Ptah-Sokar-Osiris), but I'm keeping him as a sort of minor and separate god for the sake of simplicity. Egyptian mythology is already tangled enough without worrying about how to squash them together.

In regards to crowns, the Egyptian pharaohs had a large variety. There was the Hedjet, or the White Crown, that signifies they rule over Upper Egypt. There was the Deshret, or the Red Crown, that signifies they rule over Lower Egypt. Oddly, a gold version of this crown is worn by Ahkmenrah in the films even though those crowns were usually passed down to each other rather than buried. There was also the Pschent, or Double Crown, which looks like the Hedjet and Deshret combined together and signifies that they rule over both kingdoms. Rather than being red and white, Merenkahre was wearing a gold and black version of this crown in the third movie. Finally there is the Khepresh, or the Blue Crown, which is used in certain ceremonies and in battle. That is the crown that Kahmunrah wore in the second film. Oh, and the weird striped thing that drapes over the shoulders that you see on the sphinx and a few other pieces of ancient Egyptian art was the Nemes Headdress and it goes on over the crown.

The next update will probably take some time. I apologize. I simply have a lot of stories to work on. Remember, reviews are always appreciated.