Sinking into the calming bath, Nyla leaned her back against the tub, a private section of the Pharaoh's. His servants were told to tend to her, but she pushed them out, realizing that she needed to be alone. Nyla sunk deeper till her body and her mouth were both under the water.
She opened her eyes, staring ahead blankly, eyes fixated on the clarity of her reflection like a tiny mirror blurring out her flaws and mistakes. The water swayed to the gentle exhales that flew from her, ripples creasing her image and flashing with serenity. It was as if Nyla were bathing in sapphires.
How did life end up this way?
It was only days ago when she was a priestess who eagerly chased after the stories of the gods and the legacy of her previous Pharaoh's. The ripples that surfaced whenever she moved her aching muscles would only break the illusion she was seeing, the fantasy of one day being Sethe's Queen, to feel his love everyday, and to be the apple to his eyes.
She wanted to shatter that fantasy, hoping to bury it among a thousand more she would inevitably create. However, a fantasy was better left in desire than a reality that shredded her sanity.
Soft footsteps echoed into the large bathing quarters, the dimly lit candles flickering as a strong silhouette appeared across the room, a shadow of excellence and power. The air around them stilled, time frozen as it awaited the next chapter to their tale, breaths lost as they tried to find the words melted on their tongue.
Nyla could already hear her heart breaking with every moment that passed by. He was never serious about her, and she knew that. Yet the more time she spent with the seemingly coy Pharaoh, the more she fell, the more she wished he could be hers.
Her soul ached in a wistful longing, pounding against her chest like a call to approach him, to confess, but her mind warned against it, pulled the reigns of her self-control and whispered the agonizing truth of royalty. He did not love her.
He was only using her.
After he was done, she would be sent back to the temple. It was what they discussed.
She felt the heat of his body behind her, and Nyla froze, paralyzed by the ambivalence that coursed through her. He paused for a moment, observing her body's reaction to his close proximity.
That was when he began to undress, the sounds of cloth falling and adornments clanking against the hard floor, and before she knew it, he submerged beside her, vibrant and playful dark eyes revealing their intention before his smile could.
Her eyes widened, and she held her breath.
Sethe swam closer to her, not caring that they were both naked under the duvet of a transparent yet opaque surrounding, the warmth of his body igniting her skin even when she was buried in the cool touch.
He cocked his head to the side, stray strands of his hair whisking to the movement. "What has you thinking so hard, dear?"
"Why do you keep pretending, Sethe?" she whispered brokenly, unable to contain her bottled emotions. Her eyes burned with tears as heartbreak continued a roaring echo of discontent and sorrow. Her chest clenched painfully, but she had to know. "Why do you tell me sweet lies when you know that I will not stay?"
He stumbled for a response, brows furrowed. "What are you talking about? I never told you a lie," he insisted.
Nyla furiously swam to a different side of the bath, water splashing behind her and crashing against Sethe's chest in droplet. Aggravated, she decided it was better to left some things unsaid between them. If he would not acknowledge it, then she would not push him.
Fury fueled her, a fire of anger pulsing through her veins and blinding her sight with red, heated hues. She was not sure why she reacted that way, but she could not stop herself either. She was upset at him, at herself, and at the circumstances in which they met.
That was when dawning crossed Sethe's visage, and all at once he understood her turmoil. Knowing she was in too fragile of a state to listen to any word of his, he gently approached her shaking form, hesitant on whether to touch her or not.
When a small cry escaped her lips, Sethe wasted no time in gathering her body in his arms and pulling her back against his chest, resting his chin on the tip of her head. Although her body tensed at first, she began to relax to his soothing touch as he rubbed small circles on her stomach, kissing any part that he would reach.
"No," she croaked. "Do not make this any harder than it has to be."
His hold tightened. "I did not lie to you Nyla. I swear on my father's tomb," he promised. Sethe swiftly turned her in his arms so that she was facing him. "Why are you being like this?"
The fire returned to her eyes as she glared at him, harsh, unforgiving hatred flowing through her like the ripples that surrounded them. "Because you are a Pharaoh. You will never love one woman. In fact, I cannot even say whether you will ever feel love towards a woman. To you, I am just a pawn!"
"That is not true!"
"It is!" she yelled, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her shoulders shuddered. "Every time that I let myself... believe even for a minute that you may love me one day... that you might be serious about me... about being your Queen, I am reminded that I can never be yours. And it hurts."
Sethe's gaze softened, his hand reaching up to wipe her tears away. "Nyla-"
She harshly wiped at her eyes as another stream of heartache took its place. "It hurts so much, Sethe. T-To know that I can never be that woman for you... that loving you is a mistake. I-I-"
He did not let her finish her sentence as his fingers covered her lips. "Listen to me, Nyla," he stressed. "What I said about making you a Queen, it was the honest truth. There is no deception, no lies, and no false promises. I want you, all of you."
Her lower lip trembled, voice fumbling to make an excuse, yet she was frozen in place, stuck in time as she watched the words slip through his lips with ease. She witnessed the overwhelming love that swirled the dark abyss of his irises, the hypnotizing hooded gaze that melted her cold demeanor, and the affection he was promising her.
Nyla could not fight back anymore.
Hesitantly, she rested her hands on his chest, touch as gentle as a feather, and looked up into his eyes, searching and praying that he was telling the truth. She needed him to be honest. "Do you really mean it, Sethe?" she asked in a breathless whisper.
He cradled her cheek, touching their foreheads as his eyes closed. "Oh, Nyla," he chuckled to himself. "Have I ever given you a reason to doubt me?" asked Sethe, eyes wide open and gazing at her with hope.
She shook her head.
"Then trust me when I say this heart is yours," he said, pulling her hand to rest over the rapid drumming of his heart. "You are the one that makes my chest churn painfully. You are the one that makes my mind lose its sanity."
Her eyes watered with every word, but she did not dare to stop him. Nyla knew he needed to get this off his chest just as much as she did.
"Like the Nile, you embody the hope that is needed when a drought destroys all the hard work, all the time and effort of its people. When I had no one to turn to, you magically appeared before me, a priestess with the gods' prayers on your lips, with your illuminating purity," he continued softly. "In the midst of a political war, you were the gem reborn under the wake of a storm. I am grateful for everything that you have sacrificed up to this point, and I would be honored to call you my wife and my Queen."
Her arms circled around his neck, lips pressed firmly against Sethe's. She did not need to hear anymore.
Sethe's arms wrapped around her small waist, biting gently on her bottom lip as a small gasp escaped her. The heat of their bodies ignited the body of water that surrounded them and swayed along to the strumming of their heartstrings.
The more Sethe kissed her, the more he wanted her. His desires left unchecked while his mind was fully tuned on every breath, every moan, every small movement of her frame, and he coveted for more, to take, to pleasure, and to cherish.
His lips left hers, trailing down her neck in teasing little nibbles till her sun-kissed complexion was tinted in a fiery of red, hot marks. He took his agonizingly slow time, making Nyla squirm under his touch.
"Sethe," she managed out. "S-Should we be doing this here?"
He paused, lingering on a pulsing vein that only hinted at the bubbling excitement Nyla was feeling. "Depends," he teased, kissing her collarbone gently. "Do you have any objections?"
"A little."
Sethe pulled back, still keeping Nyla in his arms and a genuine smile still gracing his visage. "Then, we will wait," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Sethe lowered his lips to her ears, voice dropping low till Nyla's body hummed in desire. "I still expect to hear those breathtaking sounds of yours in our room tonight."
Nyla rolled her eyes, unable to mask her grin. "Oh, be quiet," she laughed, pushing him back into the water.
The two lovebirds erupted in familiar laughter, letting the warmth of each other's presence comfort them in the chaos the storm brewing outside their private quarters. Sethe and Nyla spent most of their evening flicking droplets of water and chasing their joy in laps around the bath.
Under the dimmer lights, stolen kisses, airy moans, and desperate pleas passed by as persistent as the dawn's awakening. A new horizon in the distance, a new Pharaoh ready to reign with his betrothed, however their night was far from ending in bliss.
Because in their heated mist of love and pleasure, they did not hear the trampling of footsteps outside of a scared princess failing to kill Nyla and on a route of pain and suffering. Tears streaked Bastet's cheeks as she ran down the corridors, down the endless aisles of Egyptian history marked against the wall, and across the pavilion into the silent night, shoulders shaking.
As she glanced around, she realized it more than ever. That Pharaoh would never be hers, and his kingdom would not accept her.
She was as good as dead.
* * * *
"You failed?" asked an advisor.
Bastet nodded solemnly. "I-I couldn't kill her. He was in the bath as well."
Jabari slammed a hand on his desk. "That was your best excuse? You are a woman. Use that to your advantage with the Pharaoh."
Her evergreen eyes watered to a considerable degree. "He never wanted me," she whispered, almost to herself. "No matter what I did, the Pharaoh only has eyes for that girl."
At the sight of her tears, Jabari's facade of dominance stumbled in the darkness. He was never one to use violence against a woman, but the sight of her heartbroken tears and her flushed cheeks, he could not deny the guilt he felt for causing a young princess to waste her tears on the Pharaoh.
An advisor raised a hand, striking her violently until Bastet fell to the ground, his hand imprinted on her cheek. "You useless tramp!" he bellowed. "We gave you one job to exterminate a lowly priestess, and you were not even capable of that? Get out!"
Never had Bastet been so humiliated, so lost. She came to Egypt searching for a love that would sweep her off her feet and into the golden throne of success, and instead she was beaten and bruised for being unable to commit murder.
She knew she masked the persona of a cold-hearted, power starved princess, but in reality Bastet could care less about titles. From the day of her birth, she was groomed to be a perfect Queen, submissive and quiet for her future King. If she went back now without the goal she was tasked with, surely her family would be too ashamed to even gaze upon her again.
Her tears stopped, and her eyes lost their vigilant flare of an emerald forest. Life felt colorless.
The transformation stunned Jabari. He saw her true self being stripped by a royal title, witnessed the disrespect that tainted her. Instead of seeing a typical princess, he saw a sad, young woman who lost her innocence long ago.
He knelt beside her, offering a hand. "Let us clean you up," he said gently.
The advisors did not agree, especially the one who struck her. "Captain Jabari-" he attempted to reason.
Jabari's eyes flared a dangerous flame, icy, blue eyes cold enough to free all of Egypt in eternal snow. "You speak of her inability to kill a worthless priestess, yet none of you attempted to kill her yourself," he hissed, standing up with Bastet leaning against him. "In fact, if any of you prevented the priestess from entering the palace in the first place, then we would not have to plan two murders in one night, now would we?"
They were silent, exchanging nervous glances with one another.
"Tonight, we will kill both. Prepare a meeting at the throne room. When the Pharaoh and his priestess enter, command for all the doors to be locked until I command otherwise," he instructed, dropping his voice dangerously low. "Are my orders clear?"
"Yes, Captain," came the chorus of voices.
With one last nod, Jabari led Bastet into the infirmary. No royal doctor would be available for the time being since Jabari had secretly misplaced them in another part of the palace. He knew Bastet's injuries were not too severe, but they still had to be attended too.
The guilt that prickled his skin crawled down his spine, and his stomach began to feel nauseous at the scene. He was the cause of the advisors manipulating a young princess. The least he could do is heal her.
He glanced at her, noticed the same dull look in her eyes.
Gently placing her on a bed, he began to search for medical supplies left behind, gathering all the materials. Bastet noticed his movements, confusion ringing like bells in her ears. Though her body was too feeble to move her aching muscles, she still managed to use her timid voice.
"Why are you helping me?" she asked quietly. "You should have killed me."
"You are wrong." Jabari paused. "You were wrongly placed into this plot to kill the Pharaoh. The mistake is mine to bear, not yours."
At the mention of the assassination attempt, she swallowed the sickly taste in her mouth. "Death? Is that necessary?"
Jabari came back to her, wiping ointments on the red mark on her cheek. Bastet winced under his touch, but she continued to allow him to heal her to the best of his abilities. He began to whisper Egyptian prayers in hopes of speeding her recovery, causing Bastet to be mesmerized by his meticulous gaze and gentle touch.
"There," he whispered, face close to hers, breaths mingled. "That should stop the pain."
He met her gaze, softening at the sight of her slightly terrified yet curious expression. Beyond the mask she wore as a princess, there was a lot of good still left in her heart. This woman could not fathom death, which was why she was unable to kill the Pharaoh. She did not have the heart to commit such a crime.
Yet she was blind to all that the Pharaoh stood for.
The only way chaos in the courts would surrender was by death, and Jabari was the one to carry it out. It was his plan to begin with, and his plans never failed. Though he found himself drawn to the princess, he knew that she could not understand the path he would take, and he could not tell her why.
He pulled away. "I will give you two options," he stated. "A failure to kill is still a failure."
"I am listening."
"Option one, you will leave the palace immediately and will not speak a word of the events you witnessed tonight. I have men in every corner of the empire, and I will know if you betray me," he said menacingly, seeing her figure shift uncomfortably.
"Option two?" she asked, keeping her voice regal and firm.
"Option two is that you stay with me, by my side, and will keep the priestess from interfering with my plans in the throne room. It is your last chance and redemption, and if you succeed, I will take you as my wife."
"Y-Your wife?"
He nodded. "I am no Sethe, but I can promise to keep you safe. At least you will not go back to your home empty-handed, and your parents will be pleased."
She needed no other persuasions to comply to his scheme. Perhaps one day she may even learn to love such a villain, but for now she had to obey.
"I agree with option two."
Jabari slowly smiled, dark and foreboding. "I knew you would see it my way."
* * * *
After their heated bathing session together, Sethe and Nyla were dressed to be presented at the royal court again. Jabari had organized a quick meeting between the advisors and Sethe to discuss a new military tactic.
Sethe would use the opportunity to eliminate the traitors.
A hand squeezed his, and Sethe was broken from his thoughts, glancing down at the love of his life dressed in the regality and elegance of a Queen of Egypt.
A serpent headdress rested against her head, two strands of her pulled into small braids to frame her face, and a lavender gown that resembled a clematis bloom from faraway, bright Nile blue fabric overlaying the simplicity. Gold adorned her neck, wrists, ears, and even the band of her waist.
She was fit to be Queen.
He brought her hand to his lips, placing a small kiss against it. "Thank you for being here, dear."
"Be careful, Sethe," she whispered seriously. "Do not be rash."
"Me, rash?" he scoffed. "I would never."
"Sethe."
"Yes, I know," he chuckled. "I will be careful, so that we can spend the rest of our lives together in this life and the next."
"You better promise me this, Sethe," she warned him with narrowed, dark as night eyes. Her nose twitched in irritation. "Because I swear-"
He captured her lips in his, moving against them slowly, savoring every taste he could with her still in his arms because if Sethe was being honest, there were a hundred different ways this meeting could go wrong. He kissed Nyla as if his life depended on it, and she kissed him with just as much fervor.
When he pulled back to catch his breath, all he could offer his bride-to-be was a loving smile, one that told her not to worry. She would be by his side through it all, so what worries did Sethe really have?
As the two entered the throne room, the advisors all stood up, bowing to their Pharaoh and glancing at Nyla with distaste, not understanding how such a common girl would usurp the Pharaoh's heart with one look.
She did not pay them any attention this time, and instead focused on the man holding her hand as he led her up the steps and into the seat next to his. He flashed her one last wink before turning to his subjects with an impassive expression, neutral and leveled.
The air around them was tense, coarse and fragile as if one small movement would ensue a bloodthirsty chaos that no one could prevent. It was a looming darkness, a hindering pain striking the hearts of those close to the Pharaoh and those who sought to destroy him. Destiny weighed the balance of the will of the gods, a trembling end to a heart-wrenching tale.
Nyla surveyed the group of advisors, unable to tell who was loyal and who was not. To her, they all had the same hungry look in their eyes, all had the drool for power. They craved to erase Sethe's dynasty and along with it the legacy of his ancestors.
She whispered a prayer to the gods under her breath, pulling on all her knowledge from her days as an apprentice to Egypt's top priestess.
Because one way or another, death would mark the throne that night. She could only pray that it was not Sethe's.
----
After three nights of staying up until 3 am in the midst of quarantine, heavy coursework, and finals seasons, I managed to complete the entire short story for you :)
Took a lot of determination after putting off the chapters, but that's why this is a double update!
That's right. The last chapter ended up being too long, so I split it into two because why not.
I felt bad for leaving y'all hanging, so I decided to just finish the short story in one go. Just a heads up, the next chapter you're about to read has some intense scenes, so read at your own risk if you don't have a stomach for violence.
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