Ahkmenrah: The Fourth King of the Fourth Kings

Chapter 88: The Throne

"Of course sire, would you like us to prepare your chariot?"

"No." Answered Ahkmenrah firmly.

"No?" Echoed Meryre.

"I want to do it the old way?"

"The old way?"

"Have you forgotten your history Meryre?" Asked Ahkmenrah sweetly. "Before Narmer was Pharaoh, the Kings did not ride chariots around the city on their Heb-Seds. They had to run barefoot and naked in front of all his subjects. They had to do five laps before sundown or they would be executed."

"Sire you..."

"What?" Asked Ahkmenrah raising an eyebrow. "You think I've gone mad? Do you call this madness? I am reviving the old traditions and the histories that you have forgotten, the traditions that have become mere formalities to you."

"And the execution?"

"Well, I wasn't going to go that far." Admitted Ahkmenrah. "But I see your point. From now on Kings will choose whether they want to be executed or not."

"And what is your choice sire?" Asked Khufu.

Ahkmenrah knew that his great-uncle was humoring him

"I don't fear death." He told them. "If I do not complete the task you're a permitted to - no I order my own execution."

Ahkmenrah grinned at the surprise in their faces and he could almost feel Sabra ready to reprimand him.

"Please prepare the festivities. You are all dismissed."

He knew they wanted to go against him. After all, they couldn't lose a third King in the space of a year. But they also knew his word was law so they all left. Sabra was the only one who stayed behind.

He faced her, still grinning.

"What was that all about?" She demanded, crossing her arms.

"I'm reviving the traditions." He told her.

"The execution bit?" She pressed him further. "I've been working my ass off to keep you safe and you're going to throw it all away. Kahmunrah sacrificed his life for you and you're just..."

He stepped forward closing the gap between them, he held her eyes firmly as he let his smile fall to reveal a deadly serious expression. Was it him or did her breath hitch?

"I know what I'm doing." He told her. "Trust me, I intend on being there for Ramses, I won't give up on him."

"Then why are you doing this?" She spat back.

He didn't answer her instead he turned back to the throne.

"I am no king." He said. "I never was meant to be. But here I am and I have failed. I allowed us to be conquered. I have allowed this country to fall into strife and war. My people have lost faith in me. Don't tell me otherwise. If I were to conduct a Heb-Sed, the way they have been doing for the past Dynasty, the people will call me depraved, they will say I only wanted an excuse to feast and whore. But I do not. I want to honor my brother, I want to revive this kingdom. I want to build it again from the ashes. Even if I fail, death will not be a terrible option, I will at least see my brother and father again."

He paused and looked at her.

"A Heb-Sed my father told me, rejuvenates the King's powers. A Heb-Sed was a test to prove that the King could still be strong and healthy enough to rule. I want to prove it to them. More so I want to prove to myself that I am capable of ruling and I will not do it from the comfort of a chariot. They need to know that I am willing to burn my feet and face the sun and possibly meet my own death for them."

"You sound like Kahmun when he's in his Kingly melodramatics." She said. "But I still don't think this is a good idea."

"You doubt my prowess?" He questioned. "When I was a child I used to race around the city many times a day."

"It's not the same. You're still recovering from the alcohol in your blood and your leg hasn't healed properly from the War."

"All the better." He answered unaffected. "Oh and Sabra?"

"Yes?"

"If...I am not saying that it will happen but if...by some foul play I don't end up well completing the race by sundown." He paused, unsure how she would react. They were only three words but they could break everything there was between them or change it all for the better. "I want you to know that I...well...I trust you. I trust you enough that if I fail, it will be your sword that will deliver the killing blow. Is that understood?"

He felt an anger surge within him. He was a heretic, a blasphemer, and a hypocrite. He had just waxed poetic about bravery and yet he still couldn't tell her he loved her.

"Ahk..."

"Is it understood?" He asked, a wild wrathful edge to his voice.

He held her eyes sternly willing her to accept.

"Yes." She answered finally.

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Do you think Ahkmenrah will win or not? How do you feel about Ahkmenrah's inability to confess? Do you think it is necessary for him to go through with the old style of the Heb-Sed festival?

Let me know!

- Sargun ❤️