Hi everyone! I can't believe it's chapter 50. I'm so close to finishing this story, at last! It's been over a decade now.

My FUN FACT for this chapter is minor, but y'know.

The architectural marvel that is Abu Simbel was moved from its original spot to save it from destruction by dam and river work. It was never really "discovered," in the sense that it was long buried. Instead, a local boy showed the "archaeologist" (in quotes cuz they were just looking for easy money off Egyptomania) to the site.

The site was thusly named for the local boy. I'm glad for him, I'm sure he and Ramses II are pals in the Hereafter.

Enjoy.

Sunlight poured unyielding over the heads of Pharaoh Akhnemkhanen and his most trusted advisor, though neither paid any heed to the heat. There were more pressing issues than the harsh rays of Re above.

The mid-afternoon palace is not thrumming with prayer as it should be. Too many priests and priestesses have fallen ill, and too many will succumb to what plagues them. Yes… this terrible sickness that cycled through both Upper and Lower Kingdoms was leaving a dread path.

Siamun stood by his king and close friend as he always had, but words escaped him the night Maatkare passed. His mother remained on the sick bed, too delirious from fever to understand that her precious son, their Crown Prince, is now gone. Egypt's young future… he had a scarce attempt at life, at his fate. But he had been recalled, his earthly body now entombed, and his ka properly passed on.

"Siamun." Amen, as they all often called him, said his name at just above a whisper. "What do I do? The physicians say she will not last much longer."

They've stood brooding on the façade wall of the palace for nearly twenty minutes, looking over their capital city. The combination of sweltering heat and illness keeps most citizens inside. Should the heat continue, crops would wither across the land. A series of misfortunes, ones that they all prayed desperately each day to avoid. Siamun, for all that he followed his boyhood friend and prince throughout his life, learned the scribe's trade and every scrap of wisdom that came with it, didn't know the answer. He is not wed, and had never been. He knew not the loss of a child, of a queen held in fond light, and of countless subjects.

But this was his duty. He must answer, he must find an answer. And if the many games and strategies shared between them have told him anything, it's to start simple. Start simple, and it can lead to the greatest change.

"Make happiness, Amen. When there is none to be found, you must, for your sake and for those around you."

... ... ...

Nedjes strolled down the lane, face scrunched in thought. Her gauzy skirt whisked around her legs, keeping the thick, soupy air from making her overheat. In the distance, she heard the lazy calls of her family's prized herds. Their cattle were holy, and often given as tribute to both Pharaoh down south in Thebes and to temples during festival days.

She's the youngest daughter in her sprawling ranch family, one where all their close relatives lived close by. She knew all her cousins and their families. And why not? Her uncle was governor. To be close to the seat of power in this region, be you related to him or not, was only practical.

The ideas she pored over are what to get an old childhood friend and cousin of hers, a young man entering priesthood under service of Ptah in the next nome over. It would be years before she might see him again, and they'd always been around each other growing up. While they had grown apart, she felt it would be too stuck up of her to not extend congratulations to him.

"Neeee-eeeeet!"

And so he shall appear! The cousin she's thinking of bounded up to her now, an acting messenger by the look of urgency on his face. A bit strange that he's out, given he is busy with preparations to move, but perhaps he needed to distract himself? Net was her nickname that everyone uses for her, from when one of her slightly older siblings couldn't pronounce her name correctly. It stuck, and she had to live with it.

"Heya Kobo, what's with the face?" Her greeting was waved off as he panted, the heat swarming him after the exertion of running.

"It's bad, Net. The cattle… the cattle are gone!"

Net furrowed her eyebrows at the puzzling news, having just heard the cows over the ridge. Was this a prank?

"I fail to see what you mean, given that I hear them—"

Kobo heaved an exasperated sigh, waving his arms in flamboyant anguish. He'd always been like that, Net noted wryly.

"Not those cows, Hathor-bless-it! The ones set aside for Pharaoh! The cows!"

Nedjes felt both her heart and stomach drop at once. They're part of her incumbent dowry gift. A nuptial agreement set down between her uncle, her father, and Pharaoh. With the plague that swept both kingdoms subsiding at last, a union between Upper and Lower had to be made; former Great Royal Wife Nauret had been from the Lower Kingdom. She had joined her son in death some sparse months ago, but Pharaoh was clear in his proposal to Net's family. Her large, honorable family of noble bloodline: He sought happiness foremost. Happiness for Egypt, when all had been anguish. They'd lost, and lost, and lost more. He wanted to add hope at last.

She accepted those terms without hesitation. She was unmarried, without prospect, and had everything to gain from the match. Happiness, indeed. Her uncle was a fair man, as apparently was their god-on-earth king. She had the option to refuse. But what woman of Hathor would she be? She was raised to love fiercely.

But even that seemed to be muddled now. Without her promised gift to her husband-to-be, her family could get into some hot water. Cattle thievery was high those days, and recovering from this particular blow…

Nedjes shook her head.

"We will make do. Write ahead to Thebes. I will still go, I will make this happen," she instructed, squashing her anxiety with determination. Even a tertiary wife, as she was meant to be, must stand strong behind her king-husband.

Kobo leered at her, unmoving. His heavy breathing faded away.

"You still plan to go?

Nedjes snorted at the attitude in his tone.

"Of course I do. Since when have I given up so easily? Not to mention that this is the most important event of my life," she waved off, nonchalant in her confidence. She gasped when he grabbed her shoulders, shaking them slightly. "Kobo, what're you—?!"

"Do not go. You accepted Pharaoh's proposal before I had the chance, Nedjes. You were always meant and saved for me," he hissed, lips curling up when he noticed her look of fear. Ire joined it as she shoved his chest, pushing him away.

"I don't understand what you're talking about! Don't touch me again," she warned, clenching her fists. She never knew him to lash out like that, and he'd never given her any inkling that he had designs on her. He stepped forward, his expression melding into a menacing sneer.

"So imperious already, and you're not even married to Pharaoh yet. You were meant to be my bride, Nedjes, and you've spat on my name!"

"Enough, Kobo, you never approached me or my family to ask! I accepted Pharaoh's proposal to help save the Black Lands, you have no right to believe I look down on anyone in our family," she replied, keeping herself calm to prevent antagonizing him further.

Kobo opens his mouth to shout more but is interrupted.

"Net, Kobo! You won't believe it! We found the cows; they weren't stolen at all!"

At the sound of one of their other, older cousins, he sealed his lips and stomped off. Nedjes felt her heartbeat return to its regular rhythm, and turned to smile as her other cousin caught up to her.

"Thank you for telling us. Let's head back, then. We only have a few days left before my journey to Thebes."

... ... ...

"Siamun, are you sure this was wise? She can't be comfortable with an old man like me," Amen lamented, standing at a balcony to await the arrival of his young new bride-to-be. Siamun rolled his eyes, already used to this behavior and phrasing. While it's true that Nedjes of Amentet was a little less than half his age, the woman was in her twenties. She was not some girl-child, not like his own daughters. Amen would never stomach that.

"Amen, we are not yet fifty. Stop resigning us to dust and practice your smile for the lady!" he scoffed, going back to watching for the procession from Amentet. They'd move down to greet them formally, but for now it's best to have a bird's eye view. Amen chuckled dryly.

"Not yet fifty, eh? I know of a great many of my ancestors who would be honored to share in the triumph of such a long life and reign. Not yet fifty…" he trailed off. There were many kings who had short reigns at younger ages. With the strife of his own miserable reign so far, battle-worn and diseased, he could see how having a short reign might be… merciful. But, the gods blessed him with strength, he supposed. His brother and his family were getting along well, at least. He was given a strong son, who weathered all that was thrown at him… In a way, Akhnemkhanen would understand the intentions of the gods should they decide that his nephew be the one to inherit his god-king title.

"Ah, there they are," Siamun broke Pharaoh from his bemusing thoughts on royal succession. His friend spoke true; a group led by strong steers paraded up the boulevard to the palace, waving the banner of nome Amentet.

"Right. I will move to greet them. This is what is best," he affirmed, to himself and the sky. Re, blessedly, was not searing and angry today. This he took as a sign of favor.

Siamun watched him fluidly meld into that persona of "Pharaoh." His boyhood friend, Crown Prince Amen, was set aside for now, and with good reason. This marriage was of utmost importance, during such dire times as those. Where his friend never had the luxury of romance, he had found mutual fondness with Queen Nauret. But, may she find splendor, she joined her son in death. Amen, and Egypt too, needed this marriage. Their fragile stability called for it.

Siamun only hoped he was correct in seeking out the hand of Nedjes. She was niece of the nomarch, the governor, part of a lengthy bloodline that reached far back into the annals of their history. They worshiped Hathor foremost in their central city. Perhaps such a woman would be the worthy match for the woes of their kingdom. When the talks began, and the proposal drawn up, Siamun and the Amentet governor had that same idea in mind. His was a sprawling family of many branches, and they all lived near him, raising the cattle that were used in both ceremonies and in their best feasts. It took dedication and fearlessness to be around Hathor's beloved animals. Undoubtedly, Nedjes would have those qualities as well. The governor seemed positive that the match would be fortuitous, and not just for allegiance purposes. Siamun had to believe in his instincts.

The group arrived at the grand façade and Pharaoh greeted them with open arms, surrounded by an entourage of his own that included his brother. This was the beginning of what they all hoped would be a prosperous union.

Years later, Siamun sighed while filing his recent writings away. Harvest totals are better than expected, even though farm workers are stretched thin due to the now-passed plague. It served as a promising trend upward. Even better… Even better!

"Ah, Master Siamun!" He turned, startled at first. Then his expression softened into a fond smile. It's Great Royal Wife Nedjes, the toddler prince on her hip. His hair was deemed too unique to shave and keep in a child-lock, as was usual. When Pharaoh first saw his newborn son with his full head of hair, he thought it a message from the gods that the prince was gifted. Of course, the jovial climate of the two kingdoms only skyrocketed with such news. A new prince, gifted by the gods, after a new and prosperous marriage? It's all they could desire! But still, the palace held their secrets.

The prince was not born with the best health. He tired easily, and caught colds like honey caught flies. But his mother, ever cheerful, kept at his side and ensured that little Atem would grow to be confident as any prince should be. This meant, however, that he was still a bit attached to her, and shy to others. Siamun hummed in amusement when Atem buried his face into his mother's side, too bashful to say hello. He's a bright, curious child as far as Siamun can tell… If only he could gain some confidence!

"I see you're both feeling well enough for a meander around the palace today! That must be a lot of fun," Siamun remarked, earning a peek from Atem. He made sure not to spook the child by meeting his eyes. Nedjes looked down at her son, laughing softly.

"Oh yes, in fact we came seeking you specifically. Pharaoh believes it's about time Atem learned how to play a few games, and there's no one who knows games like Master Siamun," she said, resettling the toddler so he's cradled in her arms, and less able to hide away. Atem objected, calling at his mother with a short whine that earned him a patient hushing. He pouted, then eyed Siamun warily. He wanted to laugh at the show of petulance, but he had a feeling that doing so would wound the prince's pride, and would only make him fussier. Instead, he cleared his throat to appear business-like.

"Ah, a most important endeavor! Games are the gateway to strategy, compromise, and great friendships! Pharaoh and I have been neck-and-neck at senet since we were boys, ho- ho ," he chortled, though he kept his demeanor easy-going. The prince, lips unwavering, stared him down regardless. Nedjes giggled at his antics. He had his father's eyes, but for the tint of red, which they desperately wanted to be a sign of a great magical gift.

"My little king, already suited to that regal staredown! Ease up, Atem, we are having fun, " she said. He followed her order, which in turn allowed her to place him on his feet.

Siamun started the youngster on playing a fairly simple game, as he knew senet was a bit much. It's one used to teach rudimentary hieroglyphs to beginner scribes, and he can't see the hurt in starting the prince out on literacy.

While Atem pored over the images for matching, Nedjes and Siamun sat back to watch. They'll correct him when he's done.

"I am glad I accepted my place here, as discerned by you, as I recall." Nedjes kept her voice quiet and filled with the same cordial air she used with everyone. Siamun nodded, though it turned deep into a bow.

"Yes; I am the one who advised our good Pharaoh to take another wife, and I selected you. You appear most fond of each other, and the happiness of our kingdom only prospers," he replied, making sure to stay respectful. Anyone with eyes knew that their Pharaoh made a deep, loving connection with Nedjes despite the status attached to it, and its origin of being arranged.

Her smile faded somewhat, and an air of hesitation overtook her. She kept her eyes down on her young son, her pride.

"Master Siamun… My husband sent me here with another task. I have a great concern in my heart that has weighed me these years, and when I entrusted it to him, he advised me to seek your guidance as well," she started, clasping her hands in her lap. He felt a seriousness set in, one normally reserved for war rooms and tax revenue meetings. He urged her to continue.

"... Had it not been for this arrangement, a cousin of mine had designs on me. He was to enter the priesthood, instead of stay on the family lands. He was always quiet… and I dread saying it, but devious."

He wondered where this was going. Obviously she's not confessing some terrible sin, or else she'd be begging forgiveness from the gods.

"Did his manners concern you?"

Her expression creased, lips thinning into a grim frown.

"It seems he believed he was… entitled. To me, to everything in his life. He never made any official proposal, of course. I'm not one to do something so dishonorable as break an arrangement like that, even if I likely would have declined in the first place…" She became thoughtful for a few moments before shaking her head and continuing. "My marriage here was cause for celebration everywhere, especially in my family. But I've been receiving letters from home, and that cousin disappeared not long after making some terrible statements, ones that included horrible violence toward me. Some thought he merely went off to begin his time at the temple after venting his frustration, but he hasn't been there. I fear his obsession is leading him down a path of greater anger, and perhaps even vengeance against me," she explained, though it's apparent there are even more details about this cousin that she withheld. Siamun was well aware that his friend Amen didn't send her to him for some mere advice. Pharaoh sensed danger in what she told him. He must set to work on finding this danger, this obsessed, deranged cousin.

"It was different when it was only me, but now with Atem, I voiced my concerns. You have many friends throughout both kingdoms, within all the social classes. Master Siamun, this is my request, as your queen and as your friend: Use all your resources to find him."

He bowed solemnly, then met her eyes.

"What is his name?"

Her lips quivered, her breath shaky as she took a few seconds to ease her fear. "We called him Kobo, but I doubt he would use that nickname. Search for the name Korkat and you may be more successful."

Siamun opened his mouth to comfort her, but saw that the prince finished his task and walked over to tug on her dress. In doing so, he'd seen her distress and now leaned on her knees, calling her in concern. Anxiety melted away from Nedjes, replaced by pure love as she ran a hand through his hair.

"All done? Master Siamun needs to see if you win," she crooned.

That was the end of that conversation, and the beginning of a flurry of investigation.

Siamun continued to teach Crown Prince Atem. Siamun never found Korkat. And Siamun never spoke with the Great Royal Wife Nedjes about it again.

Siamun sits back, needing to take a small break. Atem revels in the sporadic tales of his father before he was born, and of his mother, of the older half-brother he never knew and of the illness that took him away. It concerns him that his mother had such a horrible man threatening her, but he couldn't have gotten to her in the palace. Even though the Millennium Items weren't forged yet, the palace was secured with powerful magicians and a strong guard. He can't imagine that this man, "Korkat," was the cause of her demise.

He mulls over the details as he goes outside the library to call for wine. He knows that he will need to sleep soon, to rest every bit of himself for the coming battles and excitement. His son will arrive, he will need to placate his wife, he will need to lead his people through this, and at the end of it all he will have peace. He's already lost Mahad.

"No," he berates himself, squeezing his eyes to clear them of the coming tears. Mahad will always be at his side. He can't allow himself to grieve now, not when Mahad made it clear that it's not wanted. He still dreads Bali's reaction to the news.

He receives the wine and dismisses the servant who delivered it. There will be no need for extra ears for the rest of Siamun's story, and he's perfectly capable of pouring wine. He returns inside, and silently sets into serving his vizier. Belatedly, Siamun begins to protest but he is waved off.

After a few sips for them both, the narrative continues.

… … …

All focus deteriorated from his search the moment the ever-familiar war drums sounded. Pharaoh Akhnemkhanen sent multiple emissaries with diplomatic solutions to this encroaching army. None returned. This was not a force that was interested in peace. Despite this, he refused to raise formal troops against them. While admirable, even Siamun felt frustration. The illness of a few years ago is returning, though this strain is not as strong. Their past few harvests have been well enough to raise the army.

But then, could he blame Pharaoh? Any troops raised at the discretion of the governors were soundly defeated. And could he… could he blame him when the morale of the palace itself was so low…?

Crown Prince Atem, so precious to them all, caught the latest strain. While of course, it was not so harsh to adults… its attack on children was especially brutal. With Atem being susceptible to illness, his case spiraled quickly. Three healers and physicians of the most prestigious quality tended to him at all hours. They were, of course, joined by his mother.

These days were long and atrocious. Pharaoh could not see his son. Those in the palace weren't positive that he would endure, even if the queen put on a brave face. During all this, the army encroached on Thebes. Akhenaden, at odds with the fargone diplomatic approach, had emerged with his solution. He made his case to his brother, and Siamun stood at his side watching and listening as he always did. There was a great mystery surrounding the Millennium Spellbook, but if that scroll had yielded something that could help…

Although his gut roiled with the feeling that something about this choice was absolutely wrong, he kept silent. Egypt was in danger. He didn't speak up when Pharaoh Akhnemkhanen gave his order to use the deciphered spell to save the Black Lands.

True to his word, Akhendan did come back after a day and a night. What made his gut wrench was that, after going out with over a hundred medjay and fellow spellcasting high priests, Akhenaden returned alone. Alone… and appearing dreadfully haunted with a terrible golden eye. The spell he had cast put up resistance, was his explanation. He said he only escaped because he implanted the Millennium Eye and used its power at the last moment. There were six other items for others to use, and they must find their proper holders quickly. The encroaching army was sighted beyond the hills to the north, hardly a day's march!

Pharaoh Akhnemkhanen took hold of the pendant, the inverted pyramid, with Wadjet's eye gleaming at its center. It filled him with enormous magical strength. When he placed it around his neck, his gaze seemed to reach beyond them. When Siamun asked, his friend told him that the pendant was actually a puzzle, made up of many pieces to form the whole, and that when he placed it around his neck, he could see the snap image of a boundless dark labyrinth that existed inside of it. He always wondered if there was more to it than that, but that was how they knew it was the Millennium Puzzle.

Others attempted to hold the items, and were drained of their life force, or melted, or incinerated on the spot. It appeared that there were certain virtues they desired, that perhaps had nothing to do with magical prowess. He shuddered when at last, in their desperate hour, Amen turned to him. Just two items were left, between the Ring and the ankh-shaped Key. Siamun looked between where they sat on a pedestal. Dawn would soon break, and their enemies would be at their doors. Those trusted enough to become a guardian of an item were growing few in number. He took a deep breath in and trusted the two parts of his soul, his ba and his ka.

He felt the Key hum. With a determined gaze, he walked over to it and picked it up. He would be its bearer, and he would continue on at his friend's side. It left the Ring.

Eventually, a magician of good standing and increasing courage stepped up to place it around his neck. Minodhma had everything to lose, with his young son already following in his footsteps as a practicing magic-user. But the Ring did not reject him. Whatever the reason was, they didn't care to seek an answer and lose precious time. In their final hour, they had found handlers for all seven Millennium Items!

Siamun had never felt so much power in his life. The use of heka so strong was dizzying, and he himself was no trained magician even accustomed to using anything of the sort. The only thing he had as he and the other six wielders of the Millennium Items stepped out to meet the army was faith. He believed that the power they held would protect everyone. He believed he could save his people.

And they did.

With the Ka monsters they unleashed, the army was annihilated. The devastation was such that nothing was left. Nothing. Nothing.

Siamun swore to the gods he would never use the Ka monster he summoned ever again, and sealed the massive entity within five separate tablets. Its power of obliteration was too much for the peaceful era they were entering. After all, the news was already spreading of the court's prowess, of the army destroyed in a single night.

The Black Lands celebrated, but mutely. They must bury those who fell victim to the marauders, and pick up the wreckage. The focus had turned toward the illness hurting their children foremost. It included the palace, where the queen still sat at the Crown Prince's bed.

It had been days since their victory. Siamun was still quite tired, as were all in the court, but they managed to continue on with their duties as usual. It was easy to do when a great deal of it was feasting in victory. Siamun knew his old friend was completely preoccupied with the welfare of his son, however, and took no joy in the festivities. He had gone to see Nedjes and Atem, but hadn't stayed long, and had remained stoic after emerging from their apartments. He spoke to no one. Siamun knew the prognosis from the physicians wasn't good.

It was nighttime when Great Royal Wife Nedjes crept from the room. Her face was pulled into a gaunt frown, her lack of rest paling her complexion. Despite that, her expression was determined, and she went to Siamun's apartments within the palace. She sent no message to her husband, said no words to anyone, and kept her shoulders confidently back. Should anyone pass by her, they wouldn't guess her intentions.

He wasn't asleep, of course. Sleep came with nightmares, and he hadn't processed the overwhelming power of the Millennium Key and its wonders yet. Instead he spent his time poring over old medical codexes, attempting to find a clue to help the Crown Prince. When she entered, he hardly had time to properly address her when Nedjes held up her hand to signal silence.

"We have no time. I am here in my desperate hour, and it must be kept from Pharaoh. He would stop this if he knew," she started. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before continuing. "You are the only one I can trust… We must save my son."

Siamun felt a chill run down his back. What further sins of the heart would be added to his nightmares? He set aside the charcoal pen he was using to scratch notes on spare papyrus. Even at the cost of his sanity or his life, he knew he would do everything in his power to save his prince. He could sense that the queen, the beloved of his best friend, would do the same.

"You were chosen to bear the power of a Millennium Item, and I must ask you to tap its strength once more in the service of the Black Lands. Perhaps I am only a selfish mother, wishing for her son's health before all else… But we know the most that should Atem pass, the future of this empire and the heart of Pharaoh would shatter. Take my ba and give it to him. I know I am not one of great prowess, but my entire being must be enough to help him," she explained. There was no waver in her voice. No reticence. Love and determination for her family, and for her nation, were all she exuded. She was a daughter of Hathor, a being of fierceness. There was no turning back.

Siamun let the sweat and tears fall down his face without abandon. He lowered his hands as he allowed the Key to rest. He shivered; grief and nausea mixed together, his body's reaction to what he had just done. He brought his hands to his face now, the reality of it all crashing down.

"What have I done? Oh, Gods of the Golden Lands, what have I done?!"

He could hear the single set of footsteps tearing through the hallways toward the room. He had sent for him. He could not bear to keep such a secret from his oldest friend.

"Siamun! I am here, what—" Amen's words cut off. Siamun dropped to his knees. His hands still covered his face in shame and anguish. He heard his oldest and dearest friend plod across the room.

"Net?"

Pharaoh's voice was so small, so fragile. But Siamun looked up when a response came.

"Papa?"

Amen breathed in sharply, and bit back the sobs, the wails, the heartbreak. His son was there, beautiful and healthy and still cradled in his mother's arms. He reached down and took him from her, gently easing her arms away. The cold of her skin almost broke his composure. But Atem, his wonderful child, gladly accepts his father's embrace.

Siamun watched as the two left the room. He was paid no mind, given no reprimand, no orders. The last image forever burned in the vizier's mind was the sight of his Pharaoh holding the Crown Prince close, tears running solemnly down his face.

Silence.

Atem stares down at his hands as he ruminates over the story he was just told. As expected, it held no real answers for their plight with the Millennium Items, but he feels that the knowledge is beneficial. His mother gave everything for him, for Egypt. Now, he will do the same. For his son, for Bali, and for the future.

Oof. Things will get ramped up again, now. Atem is feeling the pressure, I'm feeling the pressure, Bali used to be in this story, but she's feeling pressure too... Haha!

Thanks to everyone reading, it's been marvelous all these years. Comment/fav/follow, you know the song n dance.

Til Next Time,

-A