Bakura casually ate a fig, sitting on top of a wall in the palace, leaning up against an even taller wall. He wore his red robe, not even bother trying to hide himself from anyone. The palace security was so laughable that he hid in plain sight with no worry. He was looking over the palace training grounds, watching intently as Aya trained in fist-fighting against Priest Shada.
She had been at it all day. First, she had been practicing her archery, missing nearly every shot she took. Bakura couldn't help but chuckle to himself at what a bad shot she was. Then the two of them drew swords. She was much better at that. But he clearly saw that she shined the most with hand-to-hand combat. He was impressed with Aya's abilities, although she still needed more training. But he knew that how matter how much she trained, she would never be able to defeat him. But it amused him to watch her try.
Part of the reason he loved her was how unconventional she was. Finding another woman in Egypt that was trained to fight was an impossible venture. It went against what was deemed proper for a lady. But Aya could not have cared any less. She followed her own path and paid no mind to what anyone else thought of her. This, among other qualities, is what drew Bakura to her.
She and Shada were sweating as they blocked, dodged, and threw their punches against one another. Aya was completely drained off all her energy, but she refused to give up. It had become easier and easier for her to go longer each time they trained and she never quit until she exhausted herself.
Shada's fist bashed into her jaw, sending her backwards to the ground. She landed hard with a cry, skidding painfully against the dirt. Get up, Aya, Bakura thought, eating more of his fig, watching attentively. Straining against the pain, Aya stood up on shaky legs, holding a sore arm from her fall. She glared Shada down with determined eyes, putting her fists back up in front of her. That's my girl.
Her face, body, and arms were heavily bruised. She had streaks of blood and dirt down her arm from her fall that stung like a hive of bees. Her cheek was starting to swell from taking punch after punch and her body ached from top to bottom. But she refused to give up.
She ran at Shada, fist raised and a battle cry echoing through the sky. But right before she connected with his jaw, a familiar voice stopped her in her tracks.
"Aya!" the voice called from the far corner of the battlegrounds.
Aya halted her attack, her fist just a centimeter away from busting Shada's jaw. Dropping her hands, she turned towards her father who approached her with Shimon by his side. Bakura clenched his fig so hard that he crushed it in his hand, juice rolling down his wrist into his sleeve. He sneered at the pharaoh, attempting to kill him with his gaze from afar. The fight between Aya and Shada was just starting to get fun.
Shada bowed to the pharaoh respectfully, but Aya needn't perform such formalities being his daughter. "Father?" she asked, not expecting his presence in the battlegrounds. "What're you doing here?"
"I wanted to talk to you about an idea Shimon and I were discussing." He looked his daughter over, eyeing the bruises and dirt that speckled her body with concern. "I don't know if I'm particularly thrilled about what all of this training is doing to you."
Aya smiled, rubbing a particularly bad bruise on her arm. "Father, please trust me," she comforted. "I know what I can handle and what I can't. I'm fine."
Her father sighed, but smiled at his daughter, so incredibly proud of what a strong woman she had become. She wasn't his little girl anymore. She had grown into a powerful future queen that would no doubt take Egypt into a prosperous future. "I know," he said. "It's just difficult to accept that you can take care of yourself now."
He had spent her entire life keeping her under control and keeping her hidden in order to protect her. Letting go of keeping her safe to that level was extremely difficult to do, but he knew that after all of these circumstances, he had to let her be her own person and learn how to take care of herself.
"Anyway," he continued. "Shimon and I were speaking. It was so wonderful to watch you interact with those people during the soup kitchen and they loved getting to know their princess. We think all of Egypt would like to know you as well. And we never did do anything special once you came home from Bakura. We were wondering if you would want a party in the capital to celebrate your return and to formally introduce the people to their princess. Going back to the way things were will not help anymore. You should be free and happy as the rest of us."
Oh? Bakura thought to himself curiously upon his wall, an idea creeping into his mind. He pushed himself onto his knees and leaned as far forward as he could without falling off to hear better.
"What do you think?"
Aya's eyes lit up at the idea, excited to finally be out among the people of the capital without needing to disguise herself. "I think that's such a wonderful idea, father!" she exclaimed. "I've always wanted to attend a festival in the capital! And one in my honor? I'm so excited!" She practically bounced in anticipation at his words, going from the hardened warrior to an eager little girl. She ran to her father and hugged him tightly, grinning wide in happiness. "Thank you! Thank you!"
"Wonderful!" the pharaoh said, squeezing her back. "We'll begin planning immediately. Let's aim for a month's time from now, alright?"
Aya nodded. "Alright."
Staring down at the family and their servants, Bakura chuckled, liking this plan immensely. So, we're throwing a party, he thought, chuckling evilly. This was the perfect opportunity that he had been looking for. I'm looking forward to celebrating with you, Aya. I'll see you there.