My Pharaoh

Chapter 2

Ramses

She's stuck on my mind again. Amunet. That can't be her real name. It's a cover. A female assassin. That's something I thought I'd never see. Especially one from out of the city, that country accent is hard not to notice.

I know I'll bump into her again one day. I'm sure we're both going to have the same target to kill again pretty soon.

But until then, I have other important duties.

Because, little did that beautiful woman know, and little does any civilian know by my appearance alone, I'm the Pharaoh of the Kingdom of Egypt, and the son of Ra.

So much of the public feel that I'm too young to be ruler. I've been in this position for over ten years now, since when I just turned 12 years old. But people, even men I work with, treat me like I don't have a clue.

These days, I've started killing those who disrespect me, and incidentally they always seem to be terrible people anyway with assassins plotting to kill them for treason, rape, the worst of the wrongdoings.

People are starting to learn, starting to connect the dots. Those who are dead now, at my hand, wronged me the day before. Looked at me, spoke to me or spoke about me in the wrong way, in a disrespectful manner.

Today, I have several civilians coming in to voice their various concerns. This happens several times a year. It's always shallow things, I always have high expectations but then people come in with requests for public bathrooms, for me to marry and create heirs, for another cow or goat.

I get dressed and sit at my throne. And sure enough there's a line of people.

I listen, the scribe beside me writes it down. Not everything of course, even he knows some of these requests are ridiculous.

After some more people a young woman approaches the front. And when she speaks I look up, I recognise her, and that voice instantly. Amunet.

She keeps her gaze low and speaks softly and politely, so unlike the woman I met that night.

She addresses the drought, the problem of starvation out of big cities like Memphis. And that we need to aid the villages suffering the most.

If she hadn't brought it up, I don't think I would have even known the extent of what dangers the drought has caused.

Before she leaves I stop her. "Your name?"

She glances up at me. Finally, some eye contact. They're not allowed to look at me, but I was hoping she would.

"Pardon your majesty?"

"What's your name?"

"Paloma."

Finally. I know her real name. It suits her more than Amunet. Amunet is symbolic of mystery and darkness if I'm not wrong. Paloma has an opposite meaning altogether. It makes sense with that face, and that voice, and that more selfless concern than the others, to save the people of the countryside.

"Thank-you for your request Paloma," I answer "I'll make it a priority."

She sighs as she leaves.

I whisper to the scribe to make a note of her request on its own piece of paper.

"There are already dozens of copies of that request...she's been coming for months."

I frown at him. Am I really that ignorant? I'm embarrassed at my blindness.

Paloma

I'm walking home from the palace. I go every time they let civilians in. I say the same thing every time, but nothing changes. All the letters I've been getting from my father, imply that no action has been taken to help the community.

Today was the first time I worked up the courage to look at the Pharaoh, because today was the first time he actually addressed me. He's handsome. I heard that he was, I knew that he was young. But I don't think I've ever seen a face that perfect.

Not that I can be interested, not that he'll ever be interested in me. We're of two separate worlds entirely. He's going to end up with some untouched, delicate flower of the Nile, or even a princess from Greece, Rome. Not a farming-village born assassin.

Sometimes I wonder who I'll end up with. But when I think about it too much, I really doubt I'll be with anyone at all. I can't handle the vulnerability, firstly, and secondly, I don't trust a single man in this world except my father and my brothers, when they become men. I'm my line of work, and with my background, trusting men feels almost impossible.

I stop at a public garden and sit on one of the low walls. There's couples here, a few families. I sigh and lie down in the grass behind me, my legs dangle down the wall. It's warm today, but not unbearably hot. I wish it would rain. I love the rain. I love how it sounds, the way it smells, the way it feels on my warm skin. And of course, how it nourishes everything. No amount of money that I earn and send home can replace the power and necessity of rain.

I feel someone tap on my leg and I sit up quickly.

"Ms Paloma."

It's the scribe, he looks down shyly as I jump off the wall and stand in front of him.

"Sorry to interrupt you...the Pharaoh Ramses, may Ra protect him,"

"May Ra protect him." I mutter.

"He's asked if you'd be gracious enough to talk with him more about your situation, tomorrow at noon."

"I don't understand. Is this something that happens often?"

"Never."

I look at the scribe in confusion. Until he bows and walks away in a rush, back to the palace. How strange.

I walk home. And I can't stop thinking about it the whole way. When I get to my door, Amr is standing there with a piece of paper.

He mentions an assassin in all black that's been sabotaging things. I think I know the man's he's talking about.

"If you see him, kill him. Or...if he's no extreme danger, tell him to come to me." Amr says and then leaves.

When he's gone I look at the paper. It's written information about my next kill. Tomorrow night. The address, the man's name, his offences, it's all here. I fold the paper and go inside.

Tomorrow is going to be a long day. I better get some rest.

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