The Pharaoh's Lotus

Chapter 39 **

**Trigger Warning** 

Scenes of miscarriage and blood. Long chapter

Ramses and Merytra stopped short, their faces twisted with the same confused surprise as  those around them when they exited the offices in a haste.

"It sounds like..."

"Princess Malawashina!" Merytra exclaimed as she took off in the direction of the continued screaming. She did not care how pregnant she was, nor how hard it was for her to run in her state. The cries of her closest friend spurred her into action. Ramses took off past her, as was to be expected.

Seshen was already in the corridor when he rounded the corner, and both stared at each other, equally shocked at the sight of the other. Ramses saw some of the other staff racing off in the opposite direction, in the direction of the Halls of Healing. His eyes shot open in a panic, his skin prickling as he looked back down at the sobbing maid before him.

Her face turned ashen, a stark contrast to the vibrant surroundings. Tremors coursed through her hands, causing her chiffon shawl to rustle with her movements. "My Majesty... the princess... you must hurry to her," she implored, her voice quivering with urgency.

Ramses didn't bother questioning the events that transpired. Without hesitation, he swiftly raced past her, entering the room. Suddenly, he froze in his steps, overwhelmed by the sight that unfolded before him.

Malawashina was sitting in a pool of blood. Her own blood.

Ramses' ears were filled with her piercing cries and desperate screams reverberating through the air. He saw her tightly clutching onto one of her other maids, seeking solace amidst the chaos. Yet, the heart-wrenching wails failed to penetrate his consciousness. His entire being fixated solely on Malawashina, her gown stained with sanguine liquid, a haunting sight that consumed him entirely.

"M-Malawashina," he whispered, his voice barely audible amidst the tension within the room. Every step he took felt like wading through the thick mud left from the inundation of the mighty Nile. The air hung heavy with a mixture of fear and anticipation. Merytra stood motionless behind him, her panting breaths matching his own, her body, too, trembling with shock. Glancing up at him, her eyes darted back and forth between the younger princess and he, terror etched upon her face.

"Mala," Ramses called her name once more as he moved closer, slowly sitting next to her on the bed, ignoring the fact that his robes would become soaked with her crimson.

Snapping her head around in a swift motion, she immediately flung herself at him, her anguished wails continuing to echo through the room. The maids, their tear-streaked faces damp with sorrow, tenderly pressed their hands against her shivering back, offering solace. 

As Ramses gently caressed her cheek, his thumb wiped away the tears streaming down. The shattering of his heart, like fragile glass, reverberated through his being, a pain that was all too familiar. He felt a cold stab through his chest and his skin prickled from his own anguish.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, "I'm so sorry!"

He shook his head. "My sweet, sweet Mala. There is nothing for you to apologise for. It is not your fault."

She clung to him tightly, as if he would suddenly disappear, her tears soaking the front of his robes.

"But why?" She cried as she pressed her face into his chest. "The gods are punishing me for what happened to the Queen. I know they are!"

Ramses sighed softly and stroked her dampened locks. "Darling girl, no..."

"They are!" She argued, pulling away from him to glare up at him.