Through the Sands of Time

Through the Sands of Time
By: K. C. Hulsman
Part 2
6/23/03

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They had arrived at the palace under the careful
scrutiny of the night sentries.
Menmaatre sighed with relief as a young servant came
forward to collect their
horses. He moved to help assist Mkitiris in
dismounting, but she had beat him too
it. Her white dress was visibly grimy even under the
night sky and flickering
torches.

"Go bathe," he instructed with concern. "I will see
that you are given the quarters
you are accustomed to, food will be waiting for you as
well."

"Thank you, Men."

He shook his head. "You have come here to assist me,
it is only the least that I
should do. Not to mention I must return your earlier
kindness and hospitality."

She shook her head at that. "It is unnecessary, but
appreciated."

She grabbed the bundle of her bags she would need for
a change of clothes,
leaving the rest to the servants to deliver as she
unerringly headed off to the
bathing chambers. She needed no escort; she had grown
up, running through
these halls, hiding and weaving in and out of them
finding every shortcut and
every good hiding spot.

The chambers were unattended at this time of night,
and in a way she was
grateful. She wanted time to collect her thoughts. She
shed off her white dress,
and carefully put aside her jewelry and the insignia
of her rank and priestly oaths.

She slid into the darkened chill pool with a shiver
and a sigh. She scrubbed
vigorously and quickly, the water causing her to break
out in goose bumps, but
also having the effect of reviving her as well.

Emerging from the water, she toweled herself off
vigorously, before slipping into
a clean dress from her bags. She decided to forego the
jewelry for now, only
pausing long enough to drop it off in her quarters
before seeking out the
Pharaoh’s.

As she approached, she recognized the face of Kemisi,
one of Pharaoh’s loyal
servants. Kemisi smiled in welcoming. "Your presence
has been missed."

Mkitiris inclined her head, the plaited braids of her
wig, bobbing softly. "Thank
you. Is he still awake?"

Kemisi sighed and nodded. "Yes."

She nodded. "Then, unless he left orders to be
undisturbed, I shall visit him."

Kemisi stepped aside. "He has left no such orders with
us."

She inclined her head silently to Kemisi, trusting the
woman and her discretion,
and padded silently down the hall. Her fingers trailed
along the plastered walls
tracing the ornamentation of paintings she had missed
so much.

She paused at the threshold to his room as she too a
fortifying breath. *Sekhmet,
Great Lady, grant me guidance in speaking with him.*
She prayed.

She slipped into the room, finding the Pharaoh bathed
in light as he worked at his
desk. She padded up behind him, frowning. She could
see the weariness and
tension in his back, the gray weary energy that licked
around and danced
through his once vibrant energy.

"My Pharaoh," she breathed noticing the way his back
stiffened, as she gently
reached out. Her hands were hot and tingling with the
divine energy as she laid
them upon his sun-splayed hair and between his
shoulder blades.

"Em hotep, my Pharaoh." She murmured to placate him,
as she was regarded
with his fierce amethyst gaze. "I have come to help,
and you eiallially require
my services."

His head swiveled around back forward in silence
before it drooped, allowing his
chin to nearly rest upon his chest.

She sighed as she pulled back, he would take several
such treatments to put him
back to rights. She found the basin of water left in
his quarters and washed her
hands, before she took a stool that sat across from
his desk.

He regarded her with the careful considering eyes of a
lion on the plain, half
expecting her to snap at him at any nt. nt.

"There is much, I think, we need to discuss before I
begin my work here."

"I suppose there is." He answered softly, still trying
to assess if she was a lioness
on the hunt.

"You did me a great disservice Pharaoh. You dismissed
me out of hand, exiled
me, and canceled our wedding with no explanation. I
think I have the right to ask
why."

He sighed, realizing she was not pulling any punches,
but also was far calmer
than he would have expected of her. She had changed,
and it was a thing that
filled him with regret, for she had changed without
him around to make note of it.

He regarded her with sober and expressive eyes after
he ran a hand through his
unkempt hair. "Yes, you do have the right." He looked
away from her thin,
swallowing with nervous tension before he continued.
His hand was rubbing
absentmindedly on his knee. "I wanted to protect you
from the Shadow games,
my destiny, and the burden of responsibility. If I had
married you… I feared that it
would make you more of a target, and that you would
end up having to run the
country in my stead."

Her eyes caught the old nervous gesture that bespoke
of how uncomfortable he
was. "When first I was told to leave, and for some
time afterward I was deeply
hurt. I could not understand why my love would scorn
me. But Sekhmet is a
healer of hearts as well as bodies, and I cam
un
understand through her that you
had reasons motivated by your care of me."

He sighed feeling both miserably and relieved at long
last to have this out
between them. "Yes," he murmured.

"Then I shall forgive you this once, but do not lock
me away again. I am strong
and as much a warrior as Sekhmet is. I have the right
to choose the battles,
burdens, and responsibilities presented to me."

He did not answer, for he could not make such an oath,
his eyes evaded her
fierce pouncing gaze like that of a lioness on the
hunt.

"Life is precious, my Pharaoh, I would like to live it
at the side of those I care for,
then locked away."

"Even after all that has transpired would you still
say that you care for me?"

She smiled softly, her eyes luminescent mirrors to her
vibrant soul. "Yes, my raohraoh, those feelings have not changed."

He bowed his head at the unceasing susurration of her
love for him. He should
have known when she had first whispered "my Pharaoh"
to him, but he had no
dared to hope lest the dream fade.

She rose gracefully like a crane from water to sky, as
she walked over to him.
Her fingers reached out to brush his fiery and unruly
hair away from his temple
and cheek. Her fingers caressed in soft affirmations
of love against him.

Feeling a great burden lift from him, he raised his
gaze to hers, enraptured by the
quiet caring in her face. He captured her fingers,
nuzzling his lips against them
before suckling softly.

Her eyes half-slitted in feline delight as a throaty
purr filled his chambers. "My
Pharaoh," she gasped, the sound part a cry as tears
brimmed in her eyes.

He caught the mercurial sad change in her expression,
and caught her up in his
arms holding her. "I am sorry for all the pain I have
caused you, Mkit."

He could feel her face pressed wet with tears against
his neck as he held her.
Pain rippled over his own face, because he knew
without a doubt he was the
cause. She shook her head, the effect minimized by the
embrace. "I do not wish
to add guilt to the burdens you already carry. All I
needed to know was that you
still cared."

He pulled away so she could see him, "I have never
stopped." His hand traced
up her back and over the juncture of neck and
shoulder, caressing along he soft
throat constricted with unshed tears, along her chin
and jaw, as he stroked
tender fingers over her lips. "Never." He repeated
with firm resolve as he tipped
her head back and kissed her, with the passion he had
denied and buried for all
these long years since the time of the last Pharaoh’s
death.

She trembled in his embrace, and returned the kiss
with wonderment and
affirmation, before she shakily pushed away with her
cheeks aflame. "I am in the
time of service to the temple, my Pharaoh." She
murmured, unable to meet his
gaze.

He flushed in shame. "Forgive me, I did-"

She placed a finger along his lips to silence him and
shook his head. "There is
nothing to forgive. I just felt it prudent to stop
before things transgressed beyond
redemption."

He bowed his head with a weary sigh.

"Come, my Pharaoh. You are overworked and do not
sleep, any peasant of the
field knows you need rest to work."

She led him to bed, and sat on a stool, allowing her
fingers to trail through his
hair that was like the sunset in glory as she sung a
praise song to the goddess
Sekhmet, mother of Pharaoh.
Even after sleep and dreams blessed by Sekhmet had
claimed him, she lingered
enjoying the quiet repose and contemplation of Ibenre.
For in the morning, she
would be properly attached to the temple at the
palace, and such luxuries would
no longer be available.


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to be continued

Author's Note: Em Hotep - Egyptian, means 'in peace'