The Fates (Book I) - 2014 Watty Award Winner!

2.12 - The Damned Earth

Dear Readers: Here is the last scene of Episode 2!! :)

Back in Ancient Egypt, where Atria sits as queen...

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Scene 12: The Damned Earth

2020 B.C.

That evening, the pharaoh had certain administrative matters to attend to.

He wanted Atria always by his side, but she insisted that she had no place beside him, for such governmental business. Whined that she would be quite bored. Promised to wait for him in bed.

Then broke that promise viciously, voraciously. Beckoned those pretty-boy litter bearers to a sheltered, shadowed corner, just as she had planned. Ravished and ravaged all four sweaty slaves in one fell swoop. And finally understood firsthand why Zeus was so obsessed with fucking mortals.

She gave them each an extra kiss on any body part they wished, as she departed, in exchange for their sworn silence. And for good measure, she also pledged to chop them into pieces in the afterlife, should they betray this secrecy. She figured that would shut them up; it seemed consistent with the culture and religion of this realm.

The queen then roved the palace for an hour or so, repeating this process with every beddable fellow who crossed her path.

Once she was tired of that, she went to join the pharaoh for his administrative tasks. She knew that the grand gesture—sitting by him despite her boredom, since she simply couldn't stand to be apart from him—would drill the final nail in his sarcophagus. Set his love for her in stone, and seal his doom as her complete and utter slave.

She strode into the audience hall and assumed her throne, to Mentuhotep's palpable delight. The court's reaction to her entrance was a blend of bemusement, surprise, and sheer awe at the sight of the silhouette under her fine-spun diaphanous dress. Atria whispered sugared nothings in the pharaoh's ear before she took her seat.

The matter at hand was a criminal proceeding. On the hard floor knelt a soft-looking boy, bound in heavy chains, his head bowed in heartbroken defeat. Deathly pale—from fear, as well as from his natural skin tone, fairer than any other Atria had seen today. It made the boy look frail, as if born with less blood than all his countrymen.

Mentuhotep informed her as to what she'd missed, so far. The boy was the younger brother of a scoundrel who robbed royal tombs. The thief and his immediate family had been exiled for the felony. This was a customary feature of criminal punishment in this kingdom: a convict's sentence typically extended to his relatives.

"This little bastard was banished to Nubia, for his brother's crime. But he has now returned," the pharaoh apprised his queen. "Set foot on my land, whence he was cast out, never to be welcomed again."

Atria nodded pensively, pretending to understand and agree with this system of justice. "And why has he so brazenly returned?"

The king motioned the high steward—a wiry man in long loose robes, with a shaven head and skin as leathery as his sandals—to continue with his account of the young culprit's offense.

"The boy crossed back into the country for his lover," the steward reproachfully reported. "A beauteous temptress, as the rumors run."

The pharaoh chortled through his nostrils. "Must be beauteous indeed, to have inspired such an insolent return."

"She is famed throughout the city for her beauty—silken hair, gemstone eyes..." the steward stated, darting a glance toward Atria's throne, "...if I may venture the comparison, not unlike you, my lady."