The Pharaoh's Favorite - Chapter #5 - by itsvlada

I kept walking, fists clenched at my sides, my gaze fixed ahead and anger bubbling just beneath the surface. Kiya, as always, seemed entirely unaffected.

She walked beside me, her sandals whispering against stone, while rage burned in my chest like poison.

“You’re awfully quiet, sister,” she said, breaking the silence. Her tone was honey sweet, but strangely full of concern. “Are you upset about last night?”

I stopped abruptly, turning to face her.

“Am I upset?” I hissed, my voice shaking with suppressed fury. “You betrayed me, Kiya. You humiliated me and ruined everything I’ve dreamed for.”

"Oh, I see now," she continues, "After what you saw me and your beloved Sahety by the river... though really, sister, you shouldn't have spied on such a private moment."

"Private?” I whirl to face her. “You wanted me to see it. You looked right at me and smiled."

“Oh, sister, don’t be so dramatic. I simply showed you the truth. Sahety was never yours to keep – you were just too blind to see it.”

My chest tightened, her casual cruelty slicing through me.

“And that makes it acceptable?” I snapped. “You’ve disgraced yourself and our family. Do you even care about what you’ve done?”

Kiya’s expression didn’t waver. If anything, she seemed amused.

“Care?” she repeated, laughing lightly. “Why should I care? What’s the point of feeling guilty over something that needed to be done?”

“Needed to be done?” I echoed, disbelief mingling with my rage. “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t understand, do you?” Kiya’s smile widened, her eyes glittering with malice. “I never wanted this life. Not the harem, not Sahety, not the endless expectations Father heaps on us. I want freedom, Neferet. Real freedom. And if breaking you was the price I had to pay, so be it.”

Understanding hit me like a physical blow.

While she'd played the perfect daughter, preparing for Pharaoh's harem, she'd been plotting her escape all along. I was merely collateral damage in her game.

Her words left me momentarily stunned. “You are ready to destroy everything… for your selfish dreams?” I whispered. “You… you’re unbelievable.”

“It’s enough to act so wounded, sister,” Kiya said sharply. “You should be thanking me instead. Now you’re free to dedicate yourself to your precious goddess. Isn’t that what you always wanted?”

I stop dead. Turn slowly to face her. The dawn light catches her perfect features – features that hide a heart of stone.

"Thank you?" My voice comes out as a whisper. "You destroyed everything I dreamed of, and you want me to thank you?"

She resumed walking, forcing me to follow. "The world doesn’t revolve around your perfect little dreams, Neferet. Maybe it’s time for you to realize that.”

“And what about Sahety?” I clenched my fists, struggling to keep my composure. “Did you think he would choose you after what you’ve done? Did you think Father wouldn’t punish you for this?”

Kiya’s expression faltered for the first time, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face. But she recovered quickly, her voice cold and cutting.

“I’ll deal with Father. And as for Sahety? He’ll come around. Men always do.”

Her words chilled me to the core. This wasn’t just selfishness or arrogance. This was something darker, something twisted.

“You… you’re a monster,” I whispered.

“Call me whatever you want, sister. But at least I’m honest about who I am.” Kiya laughed again, the sound sharp and mocking. “Can you say the same?”

I stared at her, her betrayal crushing me down. For all her beauty and charm, Kiya’s soul was as cold as the stone statues of the gods. And yet, no amount of anger or sorrow could change what she had done. All I could do now was endure.

The house came into view, and with it, the harsh reality of what lay ahead. Kiya quickened her pace, slipping effortlessly back into the role of the dutiful daughter.

Our parents waited at breakfast, the morning light streaming through painted windows as if this were any other day.

I followed reluctantly, bracing myself for the storm that was sure to come.

"Neferet!" Mother’s sharp voice cuts through the morning air. "How dare you stay out until dawn? And with your sister in your care!"

Of course.

Once again, I would bear the blame while Kiya escaped notice. All these years I played the responsible eldest daughter, covering for Kiya's schemes, protecting her secrets - it all came crashing down.

"Where have you been?" Mother's voice cracked like a whip. "Dawn is no time for a noble young woman to return home."

Something snaps inside me.

It is always my fault.

It is always my responsibility.

While Kiya – sweet, adored, beautiful Kiya – can do no wrong.

But wait. A thought strikes me, cold and clear as temple water. My “clever” sister hasn't thought this through.

Yes, her night with Sahety might keep her from the Golden House – but Father won't let such shame go unpunished. He'll try to marry her off faster than she can blink, crushing her dreams of freedom as thoroughly as she's crushed mine.

The thought fills me with savage satisfaction.

"You want to know where we were, Mother?" The words burst from me like flames. "Ask your perfect youngest daughter what she was doing in the reeds with my betrothed!"

Silence fell like a blade.

Kiya didn't even flinch. This was part of her plan too, I realized with growing horror. She wanted to be exposed. But she'd overlooked one crucial detail – Father's pride.

"I'm done," I continue, yanking the ruby ring from my finger. "Done with this engagement. Done taking responsibility for her actions. Done watching her destroy everything she touches while you all look the other way!"

The ring hits the table with a sound like destiny shattering.

Silence stretches thick as honey. Father sets down his cup with deliberate care.

"You speak of destruction," he says slowly, "but you fail to see the opportunity the gods have provided."

My stomach drops. I don't like his tone.

"Clearly," he continues, "Sahety must marry Kiya now, to preserve what honor can be salvaged."

I looked at Kiya, expecting triumph. Instead, I saw something flicker in her eyes - regret? Fear? Rage.

"No!" Kiya's mask shattered. She leapt up, knocking over her wine cup. Red spread across the table like blood. "I won't be sold like cattle to any man!"

He pauses, and I see the trap too late. "And you, Neferet." Father's eyes found mine, ignoring her outburst. "You will take your sister's place in the Golden House."

The world tilted beneath my feet. "What?"

"I won't do it." She knocked a plate to the floor. It shattered like our family's facade. “I'd rather die than-"

The crack of Father's hand against her cheek echoed through the room. Kiya stumbled, caught herself against a column. Blood trickled from her split lip.

"You dishonor yourself. Your family. Years of your preparation wasted." Each word was punctuated by another blow. I watched, frozen, as my little sister crumpled under our father's rage. "Everything - the dancing lessons, the poetry, the beauty treatments - all for nothing!"

Mother turned away, silent tears tracking her kohl. I clutched my amulet, its edges biting into my palm. This was what Kiya's rebellion had brought us - violence and shame where there should have been celebration.

When Father finally stepped back, Kiya lay curled on the floor, her perfect face already swelling. But her eyes - they still burned with defiance through the tears.

"I will never submit," she whispered.

Father's answer was another blow.

"No." The word comes out strangled. "Father, please. I'm meant for the temple. My dreams, my powers– "

"Are gifts that will serve Pharaoh well." His voice hardens. "Our family promised a daughter to the harem. The gods themselves have shown us which daughter it must be."

"But... but we know nothing about him!" Panic claws at my throat. "He only just took the throne. Some say he's cruel, others say he's mad–"

"Enough!" Father's fist hits the table. "You will do your duty to this family. To Egypt. An opportunity to bear a child of Pharaoh, touched by the divine, is the highest honor – "

"Honor?" I laugh, and it sounds like breaking. "Like the honor your younger daughter showed last night?"

The slap catches me by surprise. Not from Father – he can't mark my face now that I'm meant for Pharaoh, not with his strength. So it was Mother who struck, her rings leaving fire across my cheek.

"You will not speak to your father this way," she hisses. "You will accept this blessing with gratitude."

I touch my burning cheek, feeling the betrayal of my own blood rising like floodwater.

Kiya's eyes meet mine across the room – no longer smug, but burning with something darker. We're both trapped now, in different cages of her making.

"Neferet, please." He reached for my hands when I stepped back. His voice was hesitant as he stepped closer. “Please speak to me”

The next morning brings Sahety to my door.

His presence was a reminder of everything I wanted to forget. He looked the same as he always had: beautifully brutal, tall, broad-shouldered, his features strong and commanding. But now, his face carried a shadow of guilt that dulled the confidence I had once admired.

“What is there to say, Sahety?” I asked, my tone cold. “You’ve already said enough with your actions.”

He flinched, but pressed on. “I know I’ve hurt you, and I’ll never forgive myself for it. But what happened with Kiya… it was a mistake. A moment of weakness.”

“A mistake?” I repeated, my voice rising. “You call betraying me with my own sister was a mistake? You’ve humiliated me, shamed our families, and now you expect me to listen to your excuses?”

“Please, Neferet,” he said, taking another step closer. “I still love you. I want to make things right. I want to be your husband.”

I laughed bitterly, the sound harsh even to my own ears. “You think love excuses what you’ve done? You think I could ever trust you again, knowing how easily you were swayed?”

"But that is the truth, you're the only one I’ve ever loved."

Laughter bubbles up, bitter as poison. "You call that love?"

"We can still have everything we planned." His voice drops, honeyed with false promises. "I'll refuse to marry Kiya. We'll tell your father – "

"Tell him what? That you'd rather have the sister you didn't rut with in the sacred reeds?" The words taste like ashes. "That you love me so much you couldn't wait one day to bed my sister?"

"Neferet – "

"No." My voice comes out stronger than I feel. "You made your choice. Now we all live with it."

He opened his mouth to argue, but I held up a hand, cutting him off. “Whatever you’re about to say next doesn’t matter anymore. And wouldn’t change either. Father has already made his decision. You will marry Kiya, and I… I will be sent to the Golden House.”

Sahety’s eyes widened in shock. “The harem? Neferet, you can’t…”

“I have no choice,” I said, my voice trembling. “None of us do. Father has made sure of that.”

And Kiya as well.

Father announces their engagement the next day. Set the wedding date close – too close, perhaps. Everyone knows why, though no one speaks about it. If Kiya's already carrying Sahety's child, the timing will hide their shame.

I watch it all like a shadow, drifting through preparations for my own fate. The Golden House – the Pharaoh’s harem – was no longer an abstract concept but a reality I was hurtling toward. Its mysteries haunted me, darker than the spaces between stars.

The lessons began immediately.

My days were consumed by the intricate rituals of beauty and grace. Servants bathed me in perfumed oils, braided my hair into elaborate styles, and painted my face with kohl and ochre until I scarcely recognized the reflection staring back at me.

They draped me in sheer linens embroidered with gold, and my wrists jingled with jeweled bangles that felt like shackles. They taught me how to walk, to move, to speak in the presence of the Pharaoh. Every step, every gesture was choreographed to perfection.

Through it all, Kiya’s presence was a constant thorn.

She was the picture of charm and sweetness around others, offering smiles that could melt the sternest hearts. But in private, her mask slipped to reveal the venom beneath.

She constantly interrupted my lessons, knocking over ink pots, scattering carefully laid-out scrolls, and loudly mocking the instructors until their patience frayed.

She spilled oils onto my ceremonial linens and once loosened the threads of my sandals so that I tripped during a walking exercise.

The worst came one night when I sat in my room, trying to focus on a scroll under the dim light of a flickering oil lamp. The door creaked open, and Kiya stepped inside, a knife glinting in her hand. My heart stopped.

“What are you doing?” I demanded, rising to my feet.

“Just a precaution.” Her smile was chilling, her voice a venomous whisper. “After all, you’ve ruined my plans. Why shouldn’t I ruin yours?”

“Your plans?” I repeated, incredulous. “You think this is about you? You’re the one who destroyed everything, Kiya. You’ve brought this upon yourself.”

Her grip on the knife tightened, her knuckles white.

“Do you think I wanted this?” she hissed. “To be tied to Sahety, to have Father dictate my every move? You were supposed to take the blame, Neferet. You were supposed to be the perfect daughter, the obedient one. Instead, you’ve dragged me down with you.”

My blood boiled. “You’re delusional.” I snapped. “You’ve done this to yourself, Kiya. You and Sahety deserve each other.”

Her eyes narrowed, and for a terrifying moment, I thought she might lash out. But then she laughed, a sound devoid of warmth.

“Deserve each other? Perhaps. But at least I won’t be sold off like cattle to the Pharaoh.”

I stared at her, my chest heaving. “You’re pathetic,” I said finally. “And no matter how hard you try to sabotage me, you’ll never be free of your own selfishness.”

Her smile faltered, and for a brief moment, I thought I saw something like regret in her eyes. But then she turned and left, the knife still clutched in her hand.

I sank back onto the cushions, my hands trembling. Kiya’s hatred burned brighter than I had realized, and the threat she posed felt more real than ever.

Yet, my dreams… gods, the dreams were worse.

There is no more beautiful stranger that used to cover me in his gentle kisses and touches. No more joy or other desires with ease.

Dreams become nightmares.

Every night now, the Nile runs red with blood. Amen stands in its crimson waters, reaching for me as shadows gather behind him.

Sometimes he dissolves into the bloody river. Sometimes creatures drag him under while I scream. Sometimes he simply shatters like pottery, leaving me alone in the dark.

I wake gasping, sheets soaked with sweat, the nightmare clinging like cobwebs. All day through other lessons, teaching and preparations I couldn’t get thoughts about these - visions perhaps - away from my head.

They're trying to tell me something. The gods are warning me – but of what? That Amen is in danger? That I'm meant to save him? Who is he, truly?

Tonight is my last at the temple of Isis. Father barely allowed this final visit, and only with strict orders to return before dark. I kneel before the goddess's statue, pressing my forehead to the cool stone.

“Goddess,” I murmured, my voice trembling. “Grant me clarity, grant me strength. I do not know what lies ahead, but I offer myself to your will. Protect me, guide me… please.”

The quiet sanctity of the temple filled me with a bittersweet peace, knowing this would be my last visit. I stayed longer than I should have, unwilling to leave the only place where I truly felt close to the divine.

"Show me the way," I whisper. "Help me understand."

"Perhaps I can help with that."

My heart stops. That voice. I know that voice.

“Amen,” I breathed, his name escaping my lips before I could think.

He stepped into the light, his tall frame silhouetted against the night. His braid, sleek and neat, gleamed like a ribbon of ink, and his deep brown eyes caught mine with an intensity that made my breath catch.

"I wanted to come earlier." He stepped closer, moonlight catching the sharp planes of his face. "But there was no way."

The space between us crackled with unspoken things. I could still feel the ghost of his touch from our last night here, could still taste the forbidden sweetness of dawn-kissed promises.

"I can't..." My voice caught. "I can't be late again. Father barely let me come tonight."

Understanding darkened his eyes. "I'm sorry if I caused trouble before."

"You should be." The words came out sharper than intended, edged with all the fear and longing I couldn't afford to feel.

He steps closer. "Let me walk you home, at least."

Something flashes in his eyes – pain? Fear? Before I can read it, it's gone.

I should say no. Should run far and fast from this man who haunts both my waking hours and my dreams.

But when he offers his arm, I take it.

"So they're sending you to the Golden House?" Amen's voice carries an edge I can't quite read. His shoulder brushes mine, sending sparks through my skin.

"Not by choice." The words taste bitter. "My sister's actions changed everything…” My voice breaks.

Amen’s expression darkened slightly, though he quickly masked it. “That’s a heavy burden,” he said carefully. “But you seem strong, Neferet. You’ll endure it. You’ll thrive.”

His words were meant to comfort, but they only deepened the ache in my chest. “Do you really believe that?” I asked, glancing up at him.

“I do.” He met my gaze, his dark brown eyes steady. “The gods wouldn’t have given you this path if you weren’t meant to walk it.”

The sincerity in his voice stirred something within me, though it was tinged with frustration.

How could he be so calm, so assured, when my world felt like it was crumbling? And yet, there was something about him – a quiet strength that made me want to believe him.

We continued walking in silence for a while, the only sound the faint rustle of the breeze through the palm trees. Then, without thinking, I spoke.

“I’ve been having dreams. Visions, maybe. They’re… unsettling.”

Amen slowed his pace, turning to look at me. “Dreams? What kind of dreams?”

I hesitated, unsure if I should share them. But something about him – his presence, his patience – made it easy to trust him.

“The Nile runs red with blood,” I said quietly. “And you… you’re always there. But something terrible happens. Shadows gather, creatures drag you under, or you… shatter. And I can’t save you.”

Amen stopped walking, his brows furrowing as he studied me. “You see me?” he asked, his voice low.

I nodded. “I don’t know why, but yes. It’s always you. And I feel like the gods are trying to tell me something, but I don’t understand what.”

He was silent for a moment, his gaze distant. Then he turned back to me, his expression serious.

“Tell me about yourself,” he said after a stretch of silence. His voice was soft, curious, as though he were unraveling a mystery one thread at a time.

I hesitated, unsure of where to begin.

“There’s not much to tell,” I said with a faint smile. “I’ve spent most of my life studying at the temple of Isis. I thought I’d dedicate my life to her service. But now… Now I must give up the temple, my dreams of serving Isis – ”

"And these dreams mean much to you?" He watches me carefully, something sharp behind his casual tone.

"They're everything. The magic, the connection to the gods..." I stop walking, struck by another vision as our hands accidentally touch.

Blood. So much blood in the Nile.

Amen struggling against dark figures, their faces hidden by shadows. His body dissolving into crimson water while I scream –

"Neferet?" His hands steady me, warm against my shoulders. "What did you see?"

I blink, surprised by his instant understanding. "How did you know I saw something right now?"

"Your eyes..." He traces the air near my face, not quite touching. "They changed color for a moment. Like jade caught in sunlight."

Fear claws at my throat. "You must be careful," I whisper. "I keep seeing... darkness around you. Danger. Something trying to destroy you."

Instead of dismissing me, he leans closer. "Tell me about these visions. About your connection to the otherworld."

"I don't understand them myself. They come without warning – more frequently now." I shiver despite the warm night. "The priests say I'm touched by Isis, but..."

"But?"

"Sometimes I think they're afraid of what I might see."

We turn onto my street, my family's grand home rising before us like a judgment. Amen whistles low.

"The High Priest of Amun lives well." His lips curve. "What's a respectable noble lady like you doing with a common merchant's son?"

"Common?” I can't help but laugh, sliding my eyes over him from head to toes. “Your linen is finer than what my father wears to the temple." I reach out, touching his golden ring. "And this... no ordinary merchant's son wears such craftsmanship."

His eyes lock with mine, dark and dangerous as sin.

"Perhaps I'm a very successful thief," he murmurs, his voice low and intimate, each word wrapping around me like a silken thread.

I tilt my head, my lips curving into a smile I can’t quite suppress. “Perhaps you’re not what you seem at all.”

The silence that follows is thick, charged with something unspoken yet undeniable. My chest tightens, the ankh birthmark there burning faintly as though the gods themselves are listening.

His gaze lingers on me, heavy and intent, and for a fleeting moment, it feels as if we’re the only two people in the world.

“I should go,” I whisper, the words trembling on my lips. Every part of me aches to stay, to let the night stretch endlessly between us, but duty pulls at me like an iron chain.

I take one step toward home. His hand catches mine, his grip firm but gentle, his warmth bleeding into my skin.

“A bargain,” he says softly, his voice like a caress. “One kiss, and I promise we’ll meet again.”

My heart stutters, then races, each beat loud and insistent in my ears.

I should refuse.

Should run inside and lock the door, burying his mysterious smile and careful lies in the recesses of my mind.

But instead, I turn back to him, drawn by a force I can’t explain.

The kiss begins as a whisper, his lips brushing mine so lightly it feels like a dream. But the moment stretches, deepens, and a wildfire sparks between us. His hands slip to my waist, pulling me closer as my fingers find the solid strength of his chest.

There’s no hesitation now, no uncertainty – only the intoxicating taste of him, wild and irresistible.

"Neferet!"

We break apart at Kiya's sharp voice. She stands in our back doorway, her perfect face twisted with spite.

Kiya’s eyes narrowed as they darted between me and Amen. “Who do I see? The pretty boy from that night,” she demanded, her voice dripping with venom. “First the temple, now our own street? Or perhaps you're just practicing for the Golden House. Tell me, sister – were you always such a shameless wh– "

"Enough."

Amen's voice changes. It's not the gentle tone I know – this voice carries weight, carries power. It makes the air heavy, and makes Kiya stumble back like she's been struck. For a heartbeat, I see something ancient and terrible flash behind his eyes.

Amen stood tall, his expression calm but unreadable as Kiya unleashed her tirade. His composure only seemed to inflame her further.

“And you,” she hissed, turning her attention to him. “You dare to loiter near our home? You have no business here.”

“Kiya, that’s enough,” I said firmly, my cheeks burning with anger and embarrassment. Turning to Amen, I added softly, “I’m sorry for my sister’s behavior.”

"It's okay, lotus flower." He smiles, and for a moment I see something ancient in his eyes, something that speaks of power beyond mortal understanding. "Until we meet again."

And just like that, he’s gone, melting into the shadows as if he had never been there at all. The ghost of his kiss lingers on my lips, a reminder of the dangerous pull he exerts over me.