#so i am VERY happy to see miranda finally settling back into this role

[clarkgriffon]

say what you want about the love triangle direction of the show we all saw coming, these first two s3 episodes are the most natural miranda cosgrove has felt in the role since the reboot started

[shiroganeryo]

D.Gray-Man Tag!

I got tagged by my friend Violet to hop into this little game she made, and there are few things I love more than babbling about DGM, so let’s go! The rules are to tag three people to get the game going, so I’ll do it at the start because this will get looong. I’ll tag @14th-melody, @metzzi and @rudimentor0x0. Here’s the blank post. Sorry if you have already done it, I might’ve missed the posts ;;

⭐ What year did you first get into DGM? Hmm, actually, that’s a hard question because I didn’t get into it right away? If memory serves me right about what grade I was in high school when that happened, I was 15 - so, 2008. Pull a chair, I’ll tell you how that went. It was actually a recommendation from a friend of my best friend; we weren’t particularly close, I just knew he and I had a similar taste for anime/manga and I was looking for getting into a new series... but I wanted it to be worthwhile. So I asked my bestie if her friend wouldn’t give me a rec. He recommended me D.Gray-Man, and just like I do before watching any series, I watched the first opening to get an overall “feel” of it and I quite liked it: cool aesthetic, music was dope, characters were nice-looking. But, for some reason, I didn’t watch it and eventually forgot about it.

Then, one day on my way back home from school, I stopped by a nearby newspaper stand since here they also sell manga. They were all very cheap at that time, so I would often look for new volumes of the titles I was collecting (my allowance was enough to buy two or three!). I saw DGM’s first volume there, and went “oh! It’s that one series he had recommended me! I’ll take it and finally give it a shot.”

I fell in love.

I really liked it at first, but the point where DGM completely won my heart was during Lala’s arc. I had never cried with a manga before. 

⭐ Who’s your favorite character? This is probably very unoriginal, but it’s Allen! At the start I was very lukewarm about him, but as time went on, I felt like I could relate more and more to that kind-hearted boy and he became my role model. DGM has been with me through some of the worst of my life, and Allen’s resolve to keep going, keep walking, no matter how hard things were for him was what motivated me many times in past. It still does. Allen also taught me to be kinder and through him I realized being there for others makes me truly happy. Sadly, I also share with him the same trait of being unable to truly see how appreciated I am and all the good I bring others just for being there... But I’m working on that! He became the first character I felt like I could fully relate to, and I was surprised - but still very happy - to realize that, now that I’m an adult with more experience and maturity, I feel like I can understand him even more and better than before. Our connection didn’t wane with time, I feel so much closer to him now. He’s very special to me.

Standing at the second spot - because it’s also fair I would mention her -, is Miranda! I always say that if Allen didn’t exist, Miranda would be my number 1 since she stands so close to him hahaha After him, she’s another character I deeply relate with. My self-esteem isn’t the best out there so I’m quick to think I’m worthless or useless, just like her. Even so, she wouldn’t give up. Every time I felt like giving up because of auto depreciation, I would think “Miranda would try again, she would work harder”.

It’s like the two of them were walking me through the steps so I could move forward and keep doing my best.

⭐ Who’s your least favorite character? I’m going to say Chaozii. But, before we get to the usual “Chaozii slander” we’re used to doing in this fandom, let me elaborate. It has nothing to do with him not siding with Allen. As much as I love Allen, I know we’re able of sympathizing with his ideals because as the readers we have a plethora of information on his motives; if not for that, we would probably take the same stance as Chaozii has taken about him.

What riles me about Chaozii is that, unlike all of the characters, his mindset is either black or white, good or bad. Everyone seems to have a perfect mix of both, showing many facets just like, well, real, imperfect people. Chaozii is the only one who doesn’t have that. Being simple-minded is not a bad trait, but when that clouds your judgement, then it turns into a bad thing.

It all fell apart when he snapped at Allen when he refused to kill Tyki. That particularly bothered me a ton, even if I understand his feelings. Chaozii, who thought it was wrong and cruel to kill humans and was grieving for his lost comrades, was fine with killing a human whom he wasn’t even sure if was being forced to do things or not. Do you see the issue here? Chaozii never feels to me like he’s striving to do the right thing in order to bring justice, but instead, because he wants revenge.

I hope he does get to learn one thing or two in the future. He has potential to be a great character; but he needs a “redemption” first.

⭐ Who’s your favorite general? Tiedoll! Although I like all of them for different reasons. I really love Cross and differently from what some people think, he did care for Allen and I love their rather dysfunctional relationship. He’s a much deeper character than just a womanizer full of fishy shenanigans. He’s also really badass: former scientist, user of magic, (former) wielder of both an Innocence of his own and another person’s (Grave of Maria). I just happen to love Tiedoll a liiiittle more because I can’t take this guy! He’s just so sweet, and his doting nature makes him both funny and lovely. General Sokalo is really cool and all, but I feel like he’s just a cool guy to me. On a side note, General Klaud could step on me and kill me and I’d thank her. I hope we get to learn more about her Innocence sometime.

⭐ Who’s a character you would get along with? I would love to say it’s Allen, but he’s someone really hard to get close to. If I think about the characters I’d like to befriend because of shared traits or interests, I think I could get along well with Miranda, Krory, and Marie. The first two because they’re two softies who just happen to be really awkward, I feel like I would probably befriend them after trying to comfort them too often. And, the latter, because I’m a person who likes calm company whom I can have honest talks with.

⭐ What kind of innocence would you have? I honestly have no idea. If I had to pick one from the ones we already have, I think I would go with the Dark Boots. Being able to fly and maneuver in mid-air would be a dream come true, I feel the happiest when the wind blows against me. If I have to think of something “for me” specifically, I think I would like a long range Innocence. I particularly like firearm-like weapons like guns, so maybe a gun or dual pistols? Yeah, I think I’d really like the dual pistols.

⭐ What’s your favorite ship? Ah, to be in the DGM fandom is to be a multishipper; yet this is the part where I always get nervous at because my favorite is a rarepair. But!!! I’m building up the courage to be more open about (and less self-judgmental of) the things I like. It’s Allen x Miranda. I don’t really know when it started; from what I said before, you already know they’re both my top favorite characters and very special to me, so I naturally loved it when I saw them sharing screentime. When I realized it, I was looking at them and thinking “they would make such a cute couple together”. It just kinda happened.

To keep this short, there’s this blog I really like explaining about this pair’s dynamics. I think they have a great dynamic together and much potential. They could very easily have a wholesome relationship based in lots of patience and mutually covering the other’s weaknesses and helping them become someone better. These are the best kinds of relationships imo. I hope to share some of my headcanons for them (and even writing, hopefully!) sometime in here. I always picture Allen being older, so that gives me some free room for creativity; it doesn’t look like he has time for romantic love right now, and I don’t really feel comfortable with him being a minor for this ship, so both things go hand in hand.

Honorable mentions go to Link x Allen (again, older!Allen), Yulma and LaviLena, as I also get super happy when I see these particular shippings. 

⭐ What’s your least favorite ship? I actually have some, but it goes against my policies to publicly (consciously) say negative things about certain things if I can help it. I know I’m allowed to have opinions, but you never know who can stumble upon it and what I dislike can be something that makes someone really happy, you know? I tend to stay silent about such things when it comes to something as harmless as shippings.

So, I think I can say I’m accepting of everything as long as everyone respects each other! And, of course, if it isn’t distasteful (as in, illegal).

⭐ What branch would you want to be part of? We’ve only seen the European and Asian branches properly before but even if there aren’t many choices, this is still a hard question; I think both have lots of good things going for them. I think I would probably want to settle with the Asian Branch! I love how lively the atmosphere is and I also feel like there are way less science division shenanigans in there... Sorry, Komui. 

⭐ What’s your favorite arc? I have three! The Rewinding City arc came right after Lala’s arc - that had touched me a lot -, bringing in even more feels. It introduced Miranda and at the blink of an eye, made me care so much about her. The first activation of Time Record after she protected Allen, followed by his thanks to her hit so hard; I get really emotional talking about it. It was such a great, yet touching moment. I think everyone can relate to that; being worthy of receiving gratitude for something they did for someone.

Then, there’s Lulu Bell’s Invasion of the Black Order arc, followed by the appearance of the Level 4 Akuma. I can’t express into words how great the flow of the elements are there. The plot is focusing on multiple characters with their own background dramas happening, all at once, yet none of it feels out of place. Everyone gets their moment, everyone contributes to the big picture (saving the staff and defeating the Akumas). It all felt like one big collective effort of several parts uniting forces, no one was more or less important than the other. It was expertisely done.

And the last mention goes to the Searching for A.W’s arcs (Saying Goodbye to A.W also included). These arcs are being extremely painful but, at the same time, also extremely rewarding to go through. For the first time ever, we’re seeing Allen give in to his wants and acknowledge his feelings; he’s not honest with himself very often, and seeing him actually admit that he still wanted to go on - for himself -, that he still wanted to hold onto hope was something that I suddenly realized I had always wanted to see him do. It’s like I had been waiting for so long. Allen is growing up, and I’m loving to see the part Johnny and Kanda are playing in this. I could talk all day about how happy it makes me, to feel this much hope in the midst of such a difficult situation these arcs are covering. It captures very well the essence of D.Gray-Man imo: the bittersweetness of the hardships of life, and the good things it makes us realize we have had all along. The people we have by our side. The will to continue moving forward because we still have something we love and want to fight for.

Whew, I expected this would get long but guess I got too carried away; those were amazing questions to answer to! If you read until now, you have my most sincere gratitude and appreciation. I wish you have a lovely day! 😊

[alottanothing]

Left to Ruin: Chapter Nine

Summary: Ahkmenrah gathers medicines for Nouke’s mother. Kahmunrah is suspicious. The pharaoh and his friend explore Waset and find that time has only made their bond stronger. Ahk breaks a promise. 

Previous Chapters

Word Count: 7478

Warnings: a tad angsty at the very end.

Tag List: @xmxisxforxmaybe​, @r-ahh-mi​, @theultraviolencefan​, @hah0106​, @rami-malek-trash​, @diasimar​, @sherlollydramoine​, @flipper-kisses​, @ivy-miranda-2390​, @txmel​, @sunkissedmikky​, @concentratedsassandcandy​, @babyalienfairy​​, @edteche2​  (Let me know if I missed you, or if you would like to be added to the tag list) 

A/N: Here’s another of my favorite chapters! I hope you enjoy it too. I was so pleased to see your responses to the last chapter, since it too is one of my favorite of this story. Your comments and gifs and overall reactions to this story bring me loads of happiness and a bunch of motivation, so thank you! Once again as a disclaimer, I am not an ancient Egyptian expert and google only knows so much. So yeah, I took so historical liberties while writing this to make my life easier, but tried to keep it as “authentic” as possible

Sleep was an elusive campaign the night the pharaoh saw his friend again. Seeing Nouke after so many years apart sparked latent sentiments into flames that were once nothing more than glowing embers of foolish longing. His body and mind were awake with a fervor that kept him tossing in his bed, and when a modicum of rest did attempt to take him, it failed to linger. Restless thoughts occupied his mind with questions gone unspoken—craving answers his heart yearned to hold. His better judgment kept them in his mind where they could dwell until the circumstances of their unforeseen reunion were resolved.

As he laid in the darkness of his chamber listening to the sounds of insects beyond his balcony with a smile on his lips, Ahk found it difficult to stifle a slight pang of guilt. His joy seemed wrong, in that it was out of Nouke’s misfortune that saw fit to bring their paths together once more. There were so many obstacles standing before them, duties to be done, roles to be played, and yet, for Ahkmenrah, none of them mattered. He would jump a thousand hurtles if doing so meant Nouke could be at his side.

She had reminded him of the impassioned tingle of true happiness her presence always lent and he wanted to hold onto it forever. Still, he found it cruel the gods saw fit to bring them together at long last out of desperation and sickness instead of the love he’d always held for her—more obstacles to face, he thought.

The warm fluttering of his heart brought to mind the most important answer he yearned for: did she share the love he felt? Or was it too late for them? Too much time lost, too many barriers separating their fated trajectory? 

Ahkmenrah hoped not. 

Life had been far kinder to him than most, thus it only seemed entirely too plausible for the gods to deny him the one thing he sorely wanted. The gods were as cruel as they were kind, and they had been plenty kind.

By dawn, Ahkmenrah adorned his usual raiment, the only evidence of his sleepless night the noticeable discoloration under his eyes. The eagerness pulsing through his body culminated raw stamina and it lit a fire under him that helped see him through his duties as fast as he could.

He skipped breakfast to spend the majority of the morning in the healer's temple: a wing of the palace a good walk from his own chamber. Ahk spoke with his high priest, Tak-Sharu, listing all the details Nouke left with him about her mother’s ailment.

“You look tired, my king. These symptoms you bring—”

“They are not mine; I assure you,” Ahk told him kindly, noting the lines of concern on his face.

Tak-Sharu matched the pharaoh’s kind expression and let out a sigh of relief.

“If I may speak freely?” 

“Of course,” Ahkmenrah nodded.

“My skills would be better used if the afflicted were to come to me. I could more accurately suggest curatives."

Ahk agreed, wishing there was a way around the secrecy.

“Perhapse in time, my friend. For now, I ask you do your best with what I have provided,” the pharaoh said.

Tak-Sharu bowed his head with his understanding, “Check back come the days end. I should have the remedies you require prepared.”

“Thank you,” Ahk said.

“An honor, my pharaoh.”

***

The fiery impatience saw the pharaoh through most of his duties that day, the most arduous of which was meeting subjects in the throne room. Usually, he enjoyed meeting with his people. Being able to help them in some way was always his favorite part of his duty, but after a couple dozen, Ahk was certain the queue of civilians would never end. He fidgeted and sighed much too often for his restlessness to go unnoticed, still, he did his best to listen despite every thought in his head bursting with musings of his friend from the garden.

By the time he met with his advisors, Ahk's patience was running thin.

“Is everything alright, my king?” Merenkahre asked when the pharaoh spent the first half of the council meeting uttering nothing but a few approving or disapproving grunts.

Ahk didn’t respond, over-focusing on trying to focus.

“Ahkmenrah.” His father tired again with a stern tone.

Ahk blinked out of overzealous focus and turned.

“Father?”

“Where is your head?”

With Nouke, he thought. 

Ahkmenrah sat up straighter and mustered a halfhearted smile to set the council at ease.

“Forgive my distraction—sleep eluded me last night. I long for some rest.”

The fib worked on everyone but Kahmunrah. His brother’s narrowed eye glare was heavy with suspicion across the table, and Ahk elected to ignore it. Kah loved to pick fights, and the pharaoh could almost guarantee his older brother would find an excuse to interrogate him as to why sleep never came. Ahk rolled his eyes and sighed preparing himself for when that moment came.

“In that case,” Meren said. “You may be excused from this meeting--a pharaoh’s mind must be sharp. Go. I pray you find rest.”

Ahk stood too swiftly, sending balls of light to twinkle in his vision, and left the council chamber uttering a too quick thank you over his shoulder.

The pharaoh took his supper with his sister and Satauhotep, as was their usual routine, giving the couple an inkling of a normal relationship. As always, Ahkmenrah spent the meal quietly envying their level of intimacy; every poetic glance and tender touch—even a shared chuckle—Ahkmenrah longed to share with Nouke. Especially then, with her suddenly back in his life.

The queen and her lover were much too preoccupied with one another to pay the pharaoh’s restlessness any mind. Ahk finished quickly and instructed Kamuzu to stay with them and to meet back in his chamber once they finished.

“Where are you going?” Setshepsut asked, finally noting the urgency radiating from her brother.

“I have errands to see to,” Ahk told her vaguely. “Enjoy your dinner.”

He left them with a quick smile and made his leave, headed for the healer's temple. 

Ahkmenrah was glad for the long trek to the far wing of the palace were the priests concocted their medicines. The journey gave him a chance to release a portion of the pent-up energy flowing through him like the steady current of the Nile. The day was close to its end—his duties fulfilled, and he could finally let his excitement blossom. Every step he took was more buoyant, his golden robes whipping behind him whimsically as his smile stretched tighter across his face.

That glint of elation faded the moment Kahmunrah came into his sight; a frown quickly twisted onto his lips.

A large part of the pharaoh was angry with his brother for what he had done to Nouke and her family. Kahmunrah was to blame for much of Ahk's inner turmoil. Nouke was the cornerstone of his happiness, and his brother chose to rip it away by banishing her family. There was something about it that did not sit well with the pharaoh, the knots in his stomach writhed with suspicion. Kah was not above playing underhandedly; in fact, he excelled at such things. Removing Nouke was surely a purposeful gambit to steal away a little of Ahk's happiness, just as Ahk had stolen Kah's happiness upon being born. Nevertheless, Ahkmenrah smothered his irritation; it was best to keep Kah as far out of the loop as possible and far out of his mind as possible.

Although, Kahmunrah had a tendency to rear his smug face where he was not welcome.

Ahkmenrah's brother made stifling anger difficult, never more so then when he deliberately stood to block the pharaoh’s path. And for a second, Ahk considered shoving past him. By rights as pharaoh, he could have pushed his brother to the ground with little, to no consequence, but Kahmunrah was taller, broader built, and muscular from his time spent as a soldier. Ahk was lean and fit, but almost a whole head shorter. In truth, Kah was properly built to rule, and while Ahkmenrah would never admit it, Kahmunrah's physique always intimidated him to some degree. 

Instinctively, Ahkmenrah gathered himself to his full height and puffed out his chest to appear larger; Kahmunrah was grossly unfazed.

“Are you ill, baby brother?” Kah’s brow creased with mock concern.

Ahkmenrah narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw. He knew his brother was itching for a spat, but the pharaoh was not in the mood to argue.

“What do you want, Kahmunrah?”

A look of feigned hurt tugged at his arrogant features, and Ahk had to keep from rolling his eyes.

“I am only checking on the well-being of my only brother,” he said pragmatically. “My guards informed me you spent most of your morning consulting with the priests.”

Ahkmenrah knew better than to fall for Kahmunrah’s spurious compassion. He was fishing for a morsel of gossip to gnaw on, and Ahk was not going to give him anything.

“My business is my own. You will leave it at that, are we clear?” Ahk derived a certain pleasure out of watching Kah’s arrogance wither into annoyance, having gained nothing, prompting a slight smirk to settle on the pharaoh's lips.

“Of course, your majesty,” he quipped. “Your health was my only concern.”

“If that’s true, then I thank you for your sentiment, brother. Now step aside.”

Kahmunrah, bowed and made a show of stepping out of the way, gesturing with a swing of his arm for the pharaoh to proceed. He rolled his eyes and thanked his brother as he passed. 

Ahk managed two full steps before Kah spoke again with his usual insolent tone, and Ahkmenrah stopped—his own annoyance stealing his amused smirk.

“I forgot to ask. What became of that thief my guards apprehended?”

“Frightened is more.” Ahk bit out harshly, recalling the look of fear in Nouke’s eyes when he’d happened upon their squabble.

The impassioned outburst aroused a delightfully suspicious glower to take shape on Kahmunrah’s brow as he searched the pharaoh’s expression. Ahk cursed himself and did his best to regain his composure in hopes to lessen the look on Kah’s face.

“I let her go.”

“Let her go?” Kahmunrah’s nose wrinkled, eyeing him with distrust and bafflement. His words fell from his lips as though the act was entirely too heinous to speak of.

“She was hungry,” Ahkmenrah lied before his brother could concoct his own reasoning. “I gave her a satchel of food and sent her on her way. She meant no harm.”

Kah’s face contorted into several expressions as he digested the pharaoh’s words before deciding to settle on one full of scrutiny.

“Forgive me, brother,” he began, sounding every bit displeased as he looked. “But do you think such charitable acts are wise? Now any ravenous street urchin brave enough to scale these walls will think they will be greeted with a meal and not punishment.”

“What good is it to be pharaoh if I cannot help my people?”Ahk challenged, unwilling to let his brother have the final word.

To his surprise, Kahmunrah had no snappy retort; his brother simply eyed him with the same heavy glower he usually did. Just once, Ahkmenrah wanted to have a conversation with Kah that didn’t feel like he had to prove his status as king. Perhaps one-day…

“I trust you will enjoy the rest of your evening,” Ahk bid him rather coldly, done with his brother’s irritation--his own beginning to bleed into his tone.

The pharaoh didn’t wait for Kah to reply and left without another word. 

The tiff with his brother left Ahkmenrah with a soured mood. All he ever wanted for himself, and Kahmunrah was to be more like kin—Ahk wanted a real brother. Countless times as he was growing up, he had extended an Olive Branch for Kahmunrah to take hold of, but he never grasped it. The pharaoh feared Kah would only ever see him as a usurper—a child who had taken away from him all he ever wanted. Ahkmenrah didn’t want to dwell on how often his brother surely wished ill upon him; Kahmunrah was ruled by his bitterness and a love for cruelty.  All Ahk could do was hope that one day he would no longer look upon Kahmunrah’s face and feel a deep abiding rage and regret. Until that day, every moment not spent in his brother's presence was a blessed one.

When Tak-Sharu greeted the pharaoh with many curatives gathered neatly in a leather satchel, his mood shifted back into the thrill he’d known before Kahmunrah upset him. There were a number of elixirs, ointments, and teas to help soothe what ailed Nouke’s mother, and the high priest took his time explaining each to Ahkmenrah in detail.

“I will be making more of these medicines to store on reserve for your friend, my pharaoh, should they need them,” Tak-Sharu said with a pleasant smile.

“Thank you,” Ahk beamed, situating the satchel over his shoulder. “The gods smile upon you this night. I pray you enjoy the rest of it.”

He bid the other priests and healers in the temple a pleasant evening and turned lithely on his heel to make his way to his chambers where Kamuzu would be waiting. The vibrancy was present in his stride once more as he walked through the corridors, his smile growing at the thought of seeing Nouke again soon. No-one stopped him—his brother the last thought on his mind—and when he made it into the privacy of his chamber, Ahk was visibly bubbling with excitement.

“Evening!” he told Kamuzu with nothing more than an errant wave and a grin.

He hastily made for a nearby table and began removing each medicine and bundle of herbs for tea to make sure they were all there, as though during his trip, one may have vanished. Ahk grinned at them all. Among the vials, was a tiny scroll of papyrus marked with a set of written instructions that Ahk read thoroughly to reacquaint himself with the information he’d been given only a short time ago.

Nouke risked so much coming to him that Ahk wanted to be sure everything was just as it should be. He did not want to mess up any more of his friend’s life—she had been through enough.

When he was confident he would remember every instruction, Ahkmenrah carefully repacked the medicines and the scroll. He exhaled deeply, throwing a hopeful glance at the sky beyond the balcony, finding the sun sinking below the horizon.

“We should make our way.” 

As Ahkmenrah made his way towards the door, Kamuzu stopped in front of him, and the pharaoh had to fight to keep his irritation from twisting onto his face. Twice his steps had been interrupted, and he was tired of it.

Ahk met his Medjay protector with pursed lips and inquiry on his features. Kamuzu responded by handing him a neatly folded bundle of garments. The pharaoh’s puzzlement sank deeper as his eyes teetered from Kamuzu, to the garments, then back to Kamuzu.

“These are servant robes,’ Ahk stated feeling as though he was missing some important variable as to why they were just handed to him.

It was only then, Ahkmenrah took notice of Kamuzu’s attire. The Medjay’s usual fine garb of armor and linen was swapped for garments much like the ones he’d handed over.

“My king, you are known by your people dressed in gold and finery. It would be wise to draw as little attention to yourself as possible.”

“Oh…” Ahk’s mouth hung open as understanding consumed him.

Suddenly, he felt embarrassingly foolish for not considering the necessity of a disguise first. The last thing he needed was word traveling that the pharaoh was sneaking beyond the palace walls to reach the council’s ears.

“Of course,” Ahk nodded. “Thank you, my friend—wise thinking.”

He changed quickly, leaving all his fine attire folded neatly on a nearby table. The crown on his head he removed last, setting it along with the rest of his raiment and ran a hand through his hair to fluff it into place.

It was an odd feeling to be dressed so humbly: a simple white shendyt that fell to his knees and a robe with a hood to mask his face. He felt acutely naked without the weight of his golden belts and collars, but the weight of responsibilities seemed less crushing without them to remind him who he was. It was though the fate of Egypt lived only in the golden ornaments he wore.

“Better, my king.” Kamuzu bowed his head with a faint smile of approval.

“Let’s go,” Ahk grinned, gripping the satchel of medicines tight.  

Despite the halls being mostly vacant due to the hour growing late, no one paid him or Kamuzu any attention—a notion that filled Ahk with a sense of thrill. Never before had he passed so many faces, servants, guards, or noblemen without having to bear witness to forced bows or timid praise. Everyone they passed never so much as looked at him.

The newly acquired anonymity thrilled him, and he found himself trying to quell a puckish grin by pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. For the first time, he truly felt like “Ahk” instead of the pharaoh Ahkmenrah.

The sky that greeted him when they came to the West Garden was a masterful work of painted hues, rich with reds and deep purples as the sun began to sink lower. The vivid display prompted a full, unabashed, and toothy smile to Ahk’s lips—the exuberance he felt mirrored in the heavens above him. The goddess Nut had indeed blessed his impending journey by painting the heavens so vividly

The pharaoh took a moment as he tread deeper into the garden of his youth to gaze in wonder at the fiery skies, silently thanking the gods for bringing Nouke back into his life—even if only for a short time. However long their paths would stay intertwined; Ahkmenrah would be grateful.

Before any more of the light was lost to the black of night, Ahk’s learned steps carried him to the break in the foliage that lead him to the passage through the wall. Every stone was in perfect order, but Ahkmenrah’s keen glance easily found the single brick placed slightly askew. His eyes stayed transfixed on that solitary block as he recalled every moment leading up to the one he was in: all the times in his youth passing through the secret garden wall to escape the toil of the path he’d been given. Every venture past those stones was done on a foolish whim; this time, it was a second chance. A chance to save someone and to bring back the part of him that he had not realized was missing.

The pharaoh’s heart was pounding at the thought of ruining that chance, and it wasn’t until Kamuzu cleared his throat that Ahk snapped back to reality. Time was working against them; his absence could only go unnoticed for so long, they needed to get to work. Even so, Ahkmenrah refused to let something as trivial as time steal away an ounce of the peace he found when he was with Nouke.

Be it out of the need to see his friend again, or the daunting persistence of time, Ahk began tearing bricks from the wall, one by one, until more stones fell away from the other side as Nouke came into his view. Time for the pharaoh stopped indefinitely when every muscle in his body froze at the sight of her. She continued, however, never surrendering her task until she caught his gawking. 

“What?” she asked, confusion settling on her brow as she turned to look behind her. “What are you staring at?”

“Nothing,” Ahk blinked as heat rushed to tint his cheeks, his hands resuming their task.

“Is everything in that satchel, wait, wha—” Nouke’s words halted as Ahkmenrah and Kamuzu passed through the breach.

“What are you doing?” she tried again, glancing at both, her brows creased with puzzlement. “Why are you dressed like that?”

Ahk was too happy to see her to find words, instead, he pulled her into a tight embrace, burying his face in the crook of her neck. It took her a moment to register his gesture but eventually, she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed just as tightly.

“I’m so glad to see you again,” he finally said, finding his voice, speaking into her neck.

He inhaled the sun-drenched scent clinging to her: the smell of soil and smoke—warm and soft like desert sand. There was a sweetness too, a fragrant undertone that he knew to be hers alone. The coupling delighted his senses, and he inhaled again to fix it in his memory. 

Time was irrelevant as he held Nouke in his arms, realizing how easy it would be to forsake his duty and run away into the unknown, forever, if she asked it of him.

When he finally found the will to surrender his hold, he found a smile in place of her confusion.

“I’m glad to see you too,” she reached out and touched the simple white linen of the hooded robe he wore. “Why are you dressed like this?”

Ahk glanced at his servant attire, his hand trailing down the fabric until he met hers and took it.

“This was Kamuzu’s idea.” He threw a smile to his Medjay protector. “He thought it best if we tried to blend in.”

A flash of inquiry colored Nouke’s features, but she found the answer before she could ask the question.

“You’re coming with me, then?”

Ahk’s closed-lipped smirk unfurled into a toothy smile.

“The high priest entrusted me with the knowledge of how to use these medicines. Let me teach you and your mother.”

A peculiar fearfulness drifted onto Nouke’s face that Ahk had difficulty placing. She moved a half step away and pulled her hand out of his, her eyes falling to look at the sand.

“That’s not necessary,” she insisted. “You’ve already helped more than you’ve needed to, and I’m profoundly grateful."

Ahk closed the space she’d put between them, and took both of her hands in his.

“Nouke?” 

 She looked at him then, eyes still shimmering with an uncertainty he didn’t understand.

“Please allow me to do this. Allow me to apologize to your mother for what my brother has done to your family.”

Her eyes never left his, and some of that curious worry faded as her dark eyes quickly smoldered into pools of amber.

“Okay,” she murmured with a nod, squeezing his hands.

Nouke led them with practiced steps along the banks of the Nile, through the harbor and into the city with only the light of twinkling stars and Khonsu’s silver glow to help guide her. She swiftly wove them in and out of main thoroughfares, and down alleyways with ease. A fissure of newfound awe worked through Ahk as he followed, losing himself in the breathtaking sight of his city. Life pulsed through the streets: a thriving metropolis bursting at every turn with fresh scents and a vitality that drew the pharaoh’s wide eyes in every direction.

His heart pounded in his chest, his mouth hanging open as his eyes darted with childlike wonder. More than once Nouke had to call his name, motioning for him to keep up having gotten distracted by all there was to see. The third time, she rolled her eyes, cracked a fond smirk, and took his hand to pull him along. The weight of her hand in his only caused his smile to stretch wider.

Being among his people—seeing how the majority lived—was profoundly more fulfilling than Ahk could have ever imagined. The reality of his city was finally there for him to reach out and touch, his sandaled feet on the ground. From the platform of his golden chariot, Waset seemed vastly different. Time always stood still when he rode through the city. Everyone stopped to gaze in wonder at him during those parades; at ground level, no one cared who he was.

Ahkmenrah was completely immersed in his own culture for the first time. All the wonder and realization dug into him with a sharp pang of melancholy that turned his grin into a frown. 

“This is the first time I’ve walked my own streets,” he thought allowed, glancing at his feet.

The regret in his tone was enough to make Nouke’s quick feet stop just shy of the mouth of the alley, leaving them secluded in the shadows of the empty side street.

She met his gaze with a silent question woven into her features.

“The only time I’ve ever seen these streets is from my chariot, with a hundred guards on every side of me.”

Nouke’s expression wilted, understanding his dismay.

“What about everything you must have seen when you left all those years ago?”

Ahkmenrah caught the optimism in her voice, but sighed and shook his head.

“Apart from venturing to temples and ruins, I spent a remarkable amount of time within the walls of houses of powerful men.”

Nouke gave his hand a squeeze and smiled softly on his behalf.

“Don’t dwell on those small details. You saw your empire firsthand—great things few men will ever see.”

Her words were gentle and drove out some of his wistfulness, letting a tiny smile return to his face—oh how I missed your hopeful spirit.

“You still owe me those stories,” she said through a grin that made his heart swell. “The ones about your adventures.”

“I haven’t forgotten.” He smiled back. 

Nouke’s eyes sparkled in the faint sliver of moonlight breaking through the makeshift and broken canopies overhead. They were locked on his with the same abundant longing that was thrumming in his heart. Every part of Ahk fought to keep from scooping her into his arms to kiss her; to press her against the alley wall until the feel of her chased away every sorrow ever to plague him. In fact, he would have if Kamuzu didn’t clear his throat, purposely yanking them both back to the mission at hand.

A slight pink tinted Nouke’s cheeks as she turned away, tugging him into the open as she mumbled a sheepish, "We're not far now.”

As they neared the outskirts of the capital city, the buildings became more sparse and less well kept. Some of the structures appeared sturdy enough, surrounded by large fields of fertile land. Several, however, had ample land but the homes were derelict and unlivable. A heaviness grew in Ahk’s heart at the sight. The people living with such plight were strangers, yet he yearned to help them. He lived in such splendor while some of his people dwelled in hovels. The thought of Nouke and her family living in such squalor more than pained him—it broke his heart.

The pharaoh was tangled in his thoughts and the poignant ache in his heart, so much so, that he didn’t realize Nouke stopped in front of him, and he ran into her. The collision startled him and he quickly issued an apology that his friend shrugged off.

She turned her timid glance from him to the structure before them.

“This is my home.” The softness of her timbre sounded almost embarrassed, as though she feared the pharaoh would mock her humble home.

The dwelling was of modest means, two stories like many of the other farmhouses they’d passed: stables for livestock on the bottom with a space to live up above. Surrounding it was a fair bit of land, most of which was grown over field--abandoned with not enough help to properly till. The bit of cultivated soil that had not been forgotten was rich with healthy sprouts. Around it all was a sturdy fence.

Relief surged through Ahkmenrah, drawing a content smile to his lips. Her home stood in stark contrast to some of the neighboring shelters—its foundations seemed strong and the land fertile. It was far from the life she’d known in the palace, but the little farm was something to be cherished.

“You and your mother work all of this by yourselves?” Ahk asked as Nouke led them onto the grounds.

She nodded, “Yes, although we’ve fallen behind a bit since my father passed.” Nouke’s sight wandered to the overgrown fields, and she sighed. “But we get by.”

“You should be proud,” Ahk told her with a soft grin. “Your father, I’m certain would be.”

Nouke met his glance with a half-smile, biting her lip, but said nothing as she took him up the stairs and into her home, leaving Kamuzu to guard the door. 

For all the home was on the outside, the interior was sparse. In the center was a table with simple wooden stools and a singular oil lamp to light the entire space. The small flame flickered in the breeze from the cut-out windows, casting elongated and dancing shadows upon the walls. In the obscurity of the dim light, Ahk could make out clay pots, woven baskets, and various sacks lining the walls while varying herbs dried from the rafters above them.

Maketaten sat facing them near the table, her frail fingers struggling to weave a basket in the soft orange glow of the lamp. The sight of Nouke’s mother stirred a hundred fond memories of his childhood; she had always been so kind to him—a trusted servant and friend to his own mother. Ahkmenrah had missed Nouke so much, but as he stood watching Maketaten silently, he realized he missed her too.

“Mother, you should be resting,” Nouke scolded gently as she approached.

Ahk lingered behind, not wanting to startle the woman.

Even in the dull light, Ahk could see how much Nouke favored her mother; the same delicate but subtly strong features graced them both, and it made him smile.

Maketaten shook her head stubbornly in response to her daughter, not moving her focus away from her work. A cough rattled her, disrupting her task for only a moment, and insisted she was fine.

“You are back sooner than I thought. You were gone so long yesterday; I thought you—” Her eyes moved from her work to her daughter as she spoke, stopping only when she caught sight of the pharaoh.

A sudden look of confusion mixed with a fair amount of horror, and she gasped. With trembling hands, she tossed aside her would be basket and attempted to kneel.

“My king!”

Ahk rushed to the woman and helped Nouke set her back on her stool. A sharp stab of guilt cut into him seeing the fear so prominent on her brow. Maketaten's brown eyes were wide and scared as she looked to her daughter who was kneeling in front of her.

“What have you done?”

“She’s done nothing,” Ahk assured her in a soft tone. “Nouke came to me, asking for my help. Please do not be afraid.”

In slow increments, the shock and fear began to ebb, but her dark eyes continued to watch him, as though she expected him to recant his kind words. Finally, she turned to Nouke.

“You went to the palace?”

Nouke nodded and took her mother’s hand.

“I have to help you, mother. I cannot lose you like father.”

A tender smile turned Maketaten’s lips upward, and she caressed her daughter's face on either side with open palms, drawing her close to lay a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“My brave, foolish girl,” she sighed. “You could have been killed.”

Nouke shook her head, “That was Kahmunrah’s threat, not Ahk’s. He wants to help. Let him help.”

Maketaten moved her sight to the pharaoh, a subtle touch of skepticism in her tired eyes.

“I am no one, my king,” she said softly. “Why have you come to help me?”

There was a tenuous sound of defeat in her voice when she spoke, as though she suspected him to hold an ulterior motive to want to help someone beneath him. Ahk wasn’t surprised or offended by her obvious distrust given her history with his brother, but Ahkmenrah was not his brother, and he wanted to prove it.

“I have come to help you because your daughter asked me to," Ahk paused, stealing a glance at Nouke beside him.

Her amber eyes were watching him in admiration, glistening with moisture in the light of the singular flame. Her reverent beauty struck him at that moment, and his breath caught sharply as his heart leapt in his chest. Ahk blinked back to Maketaten feeling heat rise to his cheeks.

“A-and I’ve come to apologize for what has been done.” Ahk pulled the satchel from around his torso and began removing each of the medicines, placing them on the table as he continued.

“My brother is unworthy of your forgiveness, and by default, myself. I come to you, not as the pharaoh Ahkmenrah.” He looked at Nouke. “But Ahk: the little boy whose happiest memories are those spent playing with your daughter in the garden. Let him help you.”

When the pharaoh’s eyes looked back to Maketaten, disbelief was shining in her features.

“Please,” Ahk implored. “I cannot bear to see such grief in your daughter's eyes.”

After what could have been simple seconds or several minutes, Maketaten’s features softened, and she nodded, smiling at them both. Nouke threw her arms around her mother, sighing with relief.

Ahkmenrah took his time explaining everything about the curatives so both Nouke and her mother knew how to properly administer each, just as Tak-Sharu had done for him hours before. When he finished, Maketaten gave him a warm, motherly smile, laying a gentle hand to his cheek.

“You have a kind heart, my king. You always have. Thank you.”

Ahk held his hand over hers, his smile growing under her touch.

“It has been an honor to help you,” he told her. “Whatever you need, just ask.”

“All I need now, I think, is rest,” she said struggling to her feet.

Ahkmenrah jumped to help her stand.

“I’ll help her to bed,” Nouke said as she maneuvered to hold most of her mother’s weight. “Wait for me on the roof?”

Nouke tossed a pointed glance to the back corner of the room to a ladder that led through a cut out in the ceiling. His eyes followed and he nodded, moving to easily scale the wooden rungs. 

In a sense, the roof of the farmhouse reminded the pharaoh of the balcony in his chamber. The 360-degree view was more than he had at home; a turn of his heel allowed him to marvel at endless horizon and sky in every direction. Scattered about were more clay pots and baskets, but nothing particularly worthwhile apart from one corner.

Constructed from a collection of rudimentary barbels: sacks and mats and old, dusty cushions (whose origins had to have begun in a noblemen’s home, abandoned, to be found again) was a nest of sorts. A smirk tugged at Ahk’s lips, heartened by its existence. What a perfect place for a dreamer like Nouke to spend hours gazing at all there was to see. In times of loneliness, the moon and the stars were ample company; Ahkmenrah knew firsthand their quiet hospitality. She undoubtedly knew it too.

“I come up here to think,” Nouke’s voice carried softly on the breeze, drawing Ahk’s eyes away from the nest and glittering heavens above.

“To think…and to cry,” she admitted, coming to stand beside him.

A doleful smile fought to work its way on to her lips, desperate it seemed to keep the mood light.

Ahk only nodded understanding, but lost for words to say.

A silence fell between them, their gazes lingering on the other until Nouke broke it to step closer to the edge of the roof, mustering a true smile as she looked out over the city.

“Isn’t the view magnificent?” she mused.

Ahk didn’t follow her gaze. His eyes were transfixed on her, hypnotized by the way the desert breeze danced through her dark hair.

“Mmhm,” he murmured, moving to stand a little closer.

“I hope I didn’t frighten your mother too terribly.” He couldn’t take his eyes off of her as he spoke.

When the wind swept her hair to reveal the smile on her face, the sight prickled his skin with goosebumps. In the silvery light, Nouke was more enchanting than any sight of any city he had ever perceived. Without the cloud of grief and fear to veil her features, all that remained was her beauty--the spirited girl he remembered from his youth.

Nouke chuckled slightly, “No I don’t think so.”

“Good,” he grinned. “Good.”

The pharaoh’s eye wandered the horizon and when he found his palace nestled far in the distance, he remembered time was working against him. His evening with Nouke had not been long enough.

“When do you have to go back?” Nouke asked softly as though she could feel the vexing grasp of time closing in on them too.

That time, the sadness in her tone matched his own; the end of their reunion was upon them.

“Sooner than I would like,” he sighed.

There was still so much he wanted to share with his friend, but duty called—as it always would. Setshepsut was undoubtedly already waiting for him in his chambers for another night of marital charade. The thought alone exhausted him.

“Then we should go,” Nouke said, sensibly trying to suppress the pain in her features. “I’ll lead you back.” 

As she began to turn away, Ahkmenrah tapped into his latent yearnings and no small amount of courage and reached out to take her hand and pull her close. He felt the hot breath of her startled gasp sweep over his skin, and it fanned his desire. Nouke’s eyes locked with his, dilating, and before she could pull away, or he could think rationally; Ahk captured her lips in a gentle—chaste—way, marked with soft pressure and held breath.

His heart was pounding, and his head felt dizzy when he pulled away just enough to gauge her reaction—Nouke’s eyes bursting with stardust. In a second, her timid lips were against his again, and he didn’t hesitate to welcome them. Her kiss was slow and lazy and perfect. Nouke molded herself to his frame, throwing her arms around his neck to deepen their kiss; Ahk grinned at her eagerness and snaked his arms around her waist to hug her even closer.

Both were smiling and unwilling to surrender their hold when their mouths parted.

“Stay here,” Ahk implored, tilting his forehead against hers. “Watch your mother tonight. Kamuzu can lead me back safely.”

She nodded, “Okay.”

Ahk grinned at her breathless awe as he reached to sweep the pad of his thumb over her lips and down along her jaw.

“Come to me tomorrow?” he asked, his sight fixed on where his thumb traced her mouth. 

There was a faint hint of apprehension that flashed in her dazzled eyes, but she chased it away with a slow blink before she nodded.

“Okay.” Her wistful murmur made him smile, and he kissed her again.

“I’ll have Kamuzu waiting for you at sunset.” He pulled her against him in a lingering embrace, inhaling her intoxicating scent to hold him until he could be close to her again.

“Until tomorrow,” he whispered against her ear, feeling every beat of her wild heart in perfect rhythm with his own.

“Tomorrow,” she echoed in a breathy timbre full of enchantment.

Ahkmenrah left her with a tender kiss to the back of her hand and a sweet farewell, feeling his spirit at last rejuvenated. 

The trek back to the palace seemed longer somehow. None of the sights captivated Ahkmenrah as they had only hours ago. His heart begged for him to turn around and go back, but his mind and the omnipresence of his responsibilities kept him moving onward.

A sigh worked through him as his feet beat against the earth with a listless tread. Despite how genuinely grand his evening had been; he was disheartened how quickly it had progressed. Never had he given any heed to how fickle time was; one moment could feel like a thousand—drawn out like an ache—while others could come and go so rapidly they left no air inside his lungs. It wasn’t fair.

By the time he and his guardian reached the passage through the wall, Ahkmenrah’s feet pulsed with soreness. They lingered in the garden long enough to replace the dismantled stones, leaving one askew to mark the passage for the next venture. Only a few servants or guards passed them in the halls due to the lateness of the hour and just as before, he was invisible to them dressed humbly. The only set of eyes that met him with any recognition were his brothers.

It was a fleeting glance at first, but Kah’s cold eyes looked at him from the length of the hall with puzzlement and intense scrutiny. A suspicion marked Kahmunrah’s leer, but Ahk had no interest in explaining himself. Instead, the pharaoh cast his brother a glower of equal intensity and carried on without so much as a hello.

When he came to his chamber door, Ahk turned to his protector with a soft grin.

“Thank you, my friend. I appreciate your loyalty and your companionship.”

A small smirk ghosted over Kamuzu’s lips, and he nodded, “Goodnight, my king.”

“Goodnight, Kamuzu.”

The Medjay left with a respectful bow.

The two Medjay standing at either side of his door uttered a hello and goodnight, also inclining their heads. Satauhotep was there too, looking confused by the frock the pharaoh wore. Ahk grinned impishly and offered no explanation before he entered. 

As evidenced by her lover waiting beyond the chamber doors, Ahkmenrah found his sister inside. She was asleep on his bed, with a scroll of Egypt’s histories still in her hand. She stirred awake at the sound of the door's closing, her heavy-lidded eyes quickly dismissing him as a servant, yawning, and stretching. Only when the pharaoh smiled did her eyes dart open, and she bolted right up.

“Ahkmen?” Her voice was groggy when she spoke, but enveloped with confusion. “Where have you been?”

She paused, her eyes skirting over his attire, “Why are you dressed like a servant?”

Her tiredness slowly came back to her with another yawn, and she rubbed at her eyes despite the heavy Kohl lining them. She chuckled, though, when he couldn’t stop grinning.

“I haven’t seen you smile like this in a long time.” Set thought a moment, chewing her bottom lip, watching him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile like this.”

Setshepsut smiled too, “What happened?”

Ahkmenrah motioned for her to sit back on the edge of the bed, and he joined her.

“Nouke,” he told her. “I was with Nouke.”

A look of bewilderment surfaced on his sister’s face, and she urged him to tell her everything. Ahk was almost certain he was speaking much too fast and with a level of exuberance that greatly diminished the coherence of his story, but the smile on Set’s face told him that she understood anyway.

“Well are you going to see her again?” she asked, eager too.

“I’ve asked her to meet me here tomorrow,” Ahk beamed. He could hardly believe it. “I’ve finally found someone I love to be my second wife! Oh Set, you were right. I did give my heart to her years ago,” he paused long enough to take a breath, his excitement blinding and somewhat exhausting, but he didn’t care.

“I-I feel as though I may burst from all this joy!”

Setshepsut’s smile faded, although, Ahk was too preoccupied with the love in his heart to notice.

“Second wife?” she murmured sadly.

Ahkmenrah nodded, too caught in his own happiness to see the betrayal and heartbreak drift onto her features.

“Yes, Just as the council and father has asked me to do. I know father wanted to have a say in my choice of a bride but—where are you going?”

Ahk watched in bemusement as his sister stood and walked to the doors. Suddenly, he could see the tense lines of her body and the wilt of her shoulders. She tossed him a pained glance.

“I’m very tired,” she said, her usual sing-song voice suddenly hollow.

“Set?” His confusion stole all the thrill from his features as he tried to understand what had chased her away.

“I’m happy you found her, Ahkmen. You deserve that happiness…”

The anguish in her tone was palpable, and it settled uneasily in the pit of Ahkmenrah’s stomach leaving him with a sting of guilt he couldn’t place. 

Next Chapter-> Chapter Ten: When It Is Gone

[thefederalistfreestyle]

Fearless “Hamilton” Star Mandy Gonzalez (PopBytes):

[. . .]  As I was doing concerts and life was happening (my daughter is now five and we’re busy!), I got a call from [director] Thomas Kail, who asked “Hey, do you want to come and do Hamilton?” And I immediately was like, “Yes!” So I came here and I’m in the same place where I was a decade ago – in the same theater where I performed In The Heights, with people that became my family, and in the same dressing room. But I’m a different person. I’ve had all these different experiences. So while I’m in Hamilton, on Monday nights I’m doing concerts because that’s what I love to do as well. And as all that was happening, I had somebody say, “Do you want to make an album?” I finally felt ready to say yes and this is what I want to do, this is who I want to work with, and these are the songs. But it took me all that time to really be ready for that. Long story short!

[. . .]

What’s the most rewarding part of being a part of the juggernaut that is Hamilton?

Being back with my family. I’m in a place where I feel welcomed. I also love doing a show that is so needed right now all over the country. It’s so important. One of my favorite things to do is #EduHam, where we bring in 11th graders from all over the New York City public school system. They pay $10 and they come to see a matinee performance. They all see it together. One of my favorite things is performing for them, but they also get to write their own pieces before they see the show. They come in at like 10:00 AM and they cheer on their fellow classmates. The stuff that these students do is just mind-blowing and is so inspiring for the next generation of writers.

Hamilton has done some incredible things and has set the bar to new levels all the way around. Not just artistically, but what it is doing socially too. It’s so important. I’m very proud to be a part of it.

The current administration is threatening some of the most basic and fundamental rights of American citizens, including (but not limited to) women’s rights, having a free press and the right to peacefully protest. What can audience members of Hamilton learn from the show that can be applied to the fight against tyranny in today’s White House?

For me, the show is an inspiring thing to be a part of every night and to watch. It shows how people from different places and with different views can come together to create an incredible nation. It also shows that there have always been times of turmoil in our country. It’s never been an even thing, but we get through it because we’re strong.

As an actress, how is the role of Angelica Schuyler different from some of the other characters you’ve played on stage?

I relate to Angelica so well now because of where I am in my own life. I’m a mother and I know what it takes to sacrifice. I don’t even have to think about that word. I know what it means. I didn’t know that until I became a mother.

When I came here, I knew that I would have an incredible relationship with the women that play my sisters. And we do! We have a lot of fun, Lexi [Lawson], Joanna [Jones] and I. I’m the youngest in my own family so it’s been fun to be like the big sister here, and hopefully be the one that people turn to for advice and different things like that. Through this show, I’ve learned that I’m a lot more of a leader than sometimes I used to think I was.

There has been a lot of discussion and debate about diversity in theater lately, including the casting controversies surrounding Broadway’s Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 and North Shore Music Theatre’s Evita. As a member of the theater community, what are your thoughts on the conversations happening about diversity on stage? And as a Latina, what type of impact(s) has being an actor of color had on your career?

Being Latina is a part of everything that I am and every character that I play because it’s a part of me. I think that it’s important to start having these discussions. When the talking begins is when a little bit of the hate settles because that’s when change starts to happen. A show like Hamilton has opened up so many doors, but I have to pay tribute to the people that opened the doors first – like Priscilla Lopez, Chita Rivera, and all of the people before us. So I think that doors will continue to open. It’s very important for us to tell our stories. It’s important to have more writers, more people behind the scenes, and more directors that are also telling these stories.

I also think it’s very important to reach out to audiences – all different kinds of and diverse audiences. That’s something that Viva Broadway is doing with the Broadway League. It’s very important because they’re reaching out to all different kinds of communities to come to the theater. Having audiences come to see shows is how theater sustains and how it grows.

So I don’t think that you can ignore a whole demographic of people. I definitely know that the Broadway League recognizes that. Luis Miranda [Lin-Manuel’s father] is actually on the board of Viva Broadway. It’s important to be aware of that work that’s happening. It’s also very important to stand behind it and ask, “If I’m not happy with the way that things are, how can I help?” [. . .]

read the rest of the great interview here, with insights about Mandy’s parents’ amazing story & more about the Fearless album

[sometimesambroswrites]

Hey it's me again! do you still take prompts? If so,,,, malec going to see Hamilton and then discussing lams? Or smth along those lines idk exactly

First of all, it was very rude of you to introduce me to this pain. *harrumphs*There is one line, one line in this fic that I’m really proud of though :3 I don’t really have a lot to say because I’m asleep on my feet rn, but a few quick points1) nobody betae’d this, I didn’t even reread it so ... pls be gentle2) every single opinion here expressed about Hamilton, Burr, Laurens etc. comes strictly from convenience to the plot, I know nothing about them

Jokes aside, thank you so much for the prompt :3 I hope you like this!Also, yes, I just made Lin-Manuel Miranda a warlock. 

Alec, of course, has no idea whatHamilton is. He knows who Hamilton is, but he just blinks atMagnus when he presents him with two tickets for Hamilton, fourthrow, central seats. Excellent tickets is what Magnus is tryingto say here. Not that it had been difficult getting them, Lin is agood friend, has been for a few centuries now, but still. Hewas expecting a bit more enthusiasm.

Fine. Never let it be said that MagnusBane gives up easily.

“A musical?”, Alec asks, scepticismheavy in his voice as he raises his eyebrows.

Magnus snatches the tickets from hishand: “A masterpiece”, he corrects.

Alec rolls his eyes: “But they justsing.”

“Who made you try Indian food”,Magnus says, pointing his finger at him, “even though you keptcomplaining and saying you wouldn’t like anything? Who would eatchicken tikka masala every single day now, hm?”

Alec raises his hands - wisely,because they both know Magnus could go on and on with similarexamples. Granted, there had been flops and mistakes like taking Alecto a gay Mundane club or taking him to a painting class for couples,but most of Magnus’ ideas had been, admittedly, fairly successful.

“Fine”, Alec says, “but I havethe right to complain throughout the whole thing and annoy you if Idon’t like it.”

Magnus grins, steps closer and says:“Of course,” and seals the deal with a quick kiss. He feels Alecsmile fondly.

*

Alec wears tight, black pants and asoft, grey, sweater with a white button down picking out from theneckline, and Magnus is a huge fan of Hamilton already.

They are almost, almost, late,because Magnus is wearing a black, see-through only if you’rewatching very closely, sheer shirt, tucked in his dark grey jeans, anembroidered dragon wrapped around his thigh, and Alec just sighs ohcome on when he turns around from where he’d been fixing hiscollar and sees Magnus.

Magnus grins at him, his shit eatinggrin, because he knows, and Alec simply glares at him whenMagnus pushes him away, lips red and eyes glossy, says: “Now it’llbe your fault if I don’t pay attention to this thing.”

Magnus keeps grinning.

They sit, Magnus’ fingers tangled inthe soft sleeve of Alec’s sweater; he can feel him tense besideshim, knows Alec isn’t comfortable with being surrounded by people,knows Alec has already memorized the exits and the routes to reachthem. He rests his head on Alec’s shoulder and Alec relaxes thetiniest bit, exhales, slips a bit lower on his seat and rolls hiseyes like he’s saying you know how I am. Magnus smacks anobnoxious kiss on his jaw.Then a voice says at thisperformance, the roles of Laurens and Philip will be played byAnthony Ramos and silence falls.

*

Alec is still sceptical at first,Magnus can tell. He’s watching distractedly, like he’s bored, andhe looks around half uncomfortable, half annoyed when people whistleand clap at the first Alexander Hamilton.

It only takes one performance for it tochange. By the time Aaron Burr, Sir is over, he’s completelyenraptured. His eyes are focused like when he’s training, his lipscurling in surprised smiles and annoyed frowns based on who’s onstage.(He seems to like Lafayette and Laurens, he’s fondlyannoyed every time Hamilton talks - he knows they’re both thinkingJace - but he can’t figure out how he feels about Burr. Hejust gets this weird frown on his face every time he’s on stage.

Also, Magnus is perfectly aware of thefact that he’s watching Alec more than he’s watching the stage,but he can’t really help himself.)

He sees him laugh and pay attention tothe lyrics, sees how he relates to the soldiers, how his eyes are wetand bright when Laurens belts out tomorrow there’ll be more ofus surrounded in a blue light, how he aches for Philip’s death,how he laughs every time King George is on stage.

He sees him stand up and clap at theend, eyes bright.

Magnus knows they’ll have to see itagain, because he doesn’t really remember anything apart fromAlec’s expressions.

*

Alec is rambling about strategies and Ican’t decide if that was bold or plain stupid and can youbelieve it they bet everything on morale and do you have booksabout George Washington and yes, I know, you’d told me so,and Magnus is more than happy to hang off of his arm as he eats hishot-dog and stay as close to him as possible, trying to steal some ofhis warmth as he listens to him. Alec doesn’t ramble oftenabout things he likes, but when he does it’s the most fascinatingthing ever. He’s incredibly smart and sharp and sees things in waysMagnus often doesn’t, and the fact that it was Magnus whointroduced him to Hamilton makes it all the more satisfying.

They are walking in silence, have beenfor probably twenty second because Magnus had gently pointed out howAlec’s hot dog wouldn’t be very good when frozen, when Alec asks:“Am I Burr?”, with a frown on his face, the same Magnus had seenevery time Burr had been on stage. He asks quietly, like he didn’treally mean to but couldn’t quite hold it back.

Magnus looks at him for a moment, knowsthat simply saying no, what the hell wouldn’t help, so heasks: “Why do you think you’re Burr?”

Alec shrugs, takes a final bite of hishot-dog: “I don’t know”, he huffs, “he always seems to wantto play it safe. Wants to please everyone. Ends up screwing uproyally.”, he shrugs again, “Sounds familiar.”

Magnus hums, tilts his head and holdson to Alec’s arm, doesn’t let him look away: “I don’t thinkthere’s anything wrong with wanting to please people, you know? Youjust have to find a balance so that you don’t forget yourself inthe meantime, what you stand for, who you want to protect. And that’ssomething you manage perfectly,” he adds, and Alec looks away anddown, a small smile curling his lips. It’s too dark to see, butMagnus is pretty sure there’s a pretty pink blush sitting on hischeeks.

“Also,” Magnus goes on, lighter,“if anything, you remind me of John. Laurens”, he adds, becausehe sees the question in Alec’s eyebrows before he asks out loud,“He too would do anything for what he believed was right. He wasstubborn when it came to his beliefs, he was incredibly smart, andmostly he was -- kind. Patient. Loyal to a fault.”He blinks,realizes Alec is watching him closely.

“Were you two -- a thing?”There’sno worry or anger or jealousy in the way Alec asks, simple curiosity,a drop of empathy in case the answer is yes, and Magnus shakes hishead, a small smile curling his lips: “God no. No, John only hadeyes for Hamilton.”

He sees Alec’s eyes widen insurprise: “Laurens and Hamilton?”

Magnus hums, nods: “They were --well, together, in their own way, from the moment they met untilJohn’s death.”

He doesn’t add maybe longer buthe remembers how Hamilton seemed to have lost something after John’sdeath, how he’d never been the same. When news of his death hadreached him, Magnus had wondered if maybe he’d aimed his gun alsobecause he’d thought of John, of how he was waiting for him on theother side.

He sees Alec mull it over, sees how heworks all the pieces together, Angelica and Eliza and John anddifferent kinds of love, for the politician and the soldier and theman.

He sees sadness settle in his eyes. “Itmust have been difficult”, he says, leaves the sentence like thatbecause there’s really no need to finish it.

Few things about Hamilton and John’slife had been easy.

He sees the sadness in his eyes and hecan’t stand it, knows the thoughts running in his head, so he says:“You know, I really didn’t like Hamilton. I found himobnoxious and loud and stubborn. He talked too much and he gave me aheadache more than once. So I asked John what he saw in him and Johnsaid when I’m with him the perfect world feels like it’s justone breath away. So when I heard that John had died I -- I feltlike I had to check on Hamilton, for him, so I wrote to him andHamilton wrote back saying I’ll build for him a world sobeautiful he’ll have to come back.”

He blinks, holds Alec’s hand tighter,feels Alec’s fingers brush his cheek, his arm around his ownshoulder, a brief kiss in his hair.

He thinks that that’s really thepoint, the only point. Going on without forgetting. Wrapping yourselfin pain, letting it hold you up until you can do it yourself.

Alec murmurs: “Let’s go home,”against his forehead, and Magnus wraps his arms around his waistsing-songs: “This is an order from your commender,” andAlec huffs, smiles.

He knows every single word of everysong by the next time they go see Hamilton.

[stilljumpingback]

(via Black Sails Episode 307 - XXV)

WELL-FORMED THOUGHTS

I keep wanting to prove that “civilization” is bad and the pirates are good.  And I can definitely make arguments to that effect:  Just this episode, we saw that civilization (personified by Woodes Rogers) is polite and reasonable when everything is going his way.  He’s happy to let Jack go, “no harm done,” so long as he gets his cache.  But as soon as he finds out that Spain wants Jack as well, Rogers easily betrays his promise to Jack.

There’s also Flint’s line about Rogers keeping the pirates from the beach by “keeping them in line with shame.”  The perks of civilization are upheld by shaming people into submission.  And when Flint refuses to submit to him, Rogers revokes pardons to the Walrus crew, thus explicitly making the pardons a means of control rather than of forgiveness.

But on the other hand…I don’t think it’s meant to be so simple as “these are the good guys and these are the bad guys.”  I believe Rogers when he accidentally repeats 210 Flint:  “If you insist on making me your villain, I’ll play the part.”  He doesn’t WANT to do bad things, just as Flint doesn’t.  This show is all about putting people into impossible situations so that their true feelings are revealed.

Perhaps the reason I empathize with the pirates so much is that they wear the worst of themselves on the outside, and slowly we see their goodness underneath, whereas civilization wears its goodness on the outside, and slowly we see its underbelly.  Like Jack said, “We’re all villains in Nassau.  Don’t think because you’re new you’re any different.”  At least the pirates are self-aware about their darkest impulses.

FRAGMENTED THOUGHTS

Max is once more trying to convince Anne to go with her plan rather than Jack’s, and I GET IT.  She’s scared that Spain is going to destroy Nassau if they don’t turn over the cache.  But I’m totally empathizing with Anne’s pain and confusion here.

Flint standing at military attention while reporting to the Maroon Queen is Doing Things to my heart.  Of course, he’s doing less fun things to the Queen’s heart when he suggests turning her home into a battlefield and answers her very good questions with “I don’t know yet.”

Madi joins the Walrus crew!!!  But as an equal to Flint!!

Woodes Rogers wants to be the good guy so badly.  But Jack eloquently and brutally puts him in his place.

Jack:  Do you have a wife? Rogers:  I do. Jack:  How do you imagine she would feel if she were told you were suffering some awful, degrading abuse and that the only way she could end it would be to betray your trust?  How do you think she would feel if she betrayed you, knowing she likely lost that trust forever, and then learned the whole thing was based on a ruse?  And no one was harmed.  We’re all villains in Nassau.  Don’t think because you’re new you’re any different.

Max is legitimately upset that Spain now requires Jack along with the cache, meaning she lied to Anne.  Eleanor fights to protect Anne, knowing how much Max loves her.  THIS IS JUST SO GOOD.  This is how exes should treat each other.

“That fucking chair.  To gain it, it demands you win partners, call them friends, make them promises.  To keep it, it demands you break them all.  One day when all is settled here, we should burn that fucking chair.”

Max discusses the cost of becoming Eleanor in the same episode that Silver realizes the cost of becoming Flint!  Good writing.

Max warns Eleanor that Rogers will abandon her if she continues to compromise his position with his men…so Eleanor sleeps with him (her go-to desperate power move).  And I just?  I know some people see their love story as great, and I can see that Eleanor does love Rogers.  But this is not real love.  She doesn’t trust that he loves her back.  This is just Vane 2.0!  I don’t ship it.

Vane finds Featherstone, who gets Idelle.  I love this new, temporary triumvirate.  Featherstone is worried that Rogers is a shit, and I am too!

Madi and Eme!!  I love that Eme is still around, and more than that, that she’s secretly Mr. Scott’s agent!  Black Sails writers, continuing to ask the good questions: “How can we make our female characters even more awesome?”

“I understand this is the place cowards come to beg forgiveness from a king.  Sign your name to sleep easy, thinking all your sins have been absolved.  But some sins even a king can’t make clean.  You, all of you, every last rotten fuck on this island has crossed a man far less forgiving than old George will ever be.  I come as his right hand.  I come on a mission of mercy, to show you a path to his forgiveness.  I come on behalf of Captain Flint.” “Captain Flint is dead.” “Not anymore, he’s not.”

It is VERY GOOD to have Dufresne pop up and remind us of who Silver used to be, right before Silver reminds us who he is now by stomping Dufrense’s head in.  Repeatedly.

“Contented men have short memories”  vs. “My name is John Silver, and I’ve got a long fucking memory” is SO GOOD.

Caregiver Flint is ALSO my favorite (along with Revolutionary Flint and Strategist Flint, if you’re keeping score), and his going to Silver and asking, “Are you alright?  I wasn’t asking about the leg,” does so many things to my heart!  And just like Eleanor and Max, we get two colleagues discussing the cost of power.

Flint:  You were right.  About the toll it took, playing this part.  Losing Miranda, the things that losing Miranda drove me to.  So I know what you’re feeling in the moment. Silver:  I perceived its effects on you.  What I assumed was sorrow, loneliness, and worst of all terror at the thing you were becoming.  There is an element of this journey into the dark that I’m only now beginning to appreciate. Flint:  What’s that? Silver:  How good it feels.

My question is:  is this true of Flint as it is of Silver?  Did Flint enjoy the darkness?  He explicitly told Miranda that he hated his role as Flint more and more every day.  We’ve seen him do horrible things and then hide somewhere to cry.  On the other hand, I have a hard time believing he doesn’t derive SOME satisfaction in what he does (especially things like destroying Charles Town).  What do you think?  Is Silver misreading Flint and experiencing something separate?

Mrs. Mapleton is madam again, and she reveals the origin story of Eleanor/Max!  Which is basically that she suggested Eleanor get her rocks off with no emotional attachment, but then Eleanor got emotionally attached.  This makes me love her even more, actually?  It’s very Moulin Rouge.

Flint smiling at Rogers sitting on the beach oozes “Finally, a match for me.”  This is made extra satisfying when we remember that Rogers’ plan actually came from Eleanor!

Flint’s FACE when he’s greeted with Rogers saying, “Lord Thomas Hamilton.”  He was NOT expecting that.  But as he is phenomenal, he regains his footing and smirks a, “Clever” at Rogers’ transparent ploy to align Flint with him.

Flint:  So that’s what this is.  We’re all reasonable men, we all want the same thing?  You offer me a pardon, I accept it, this all ends? Rogers:  Maybe.  The pardons are on the table.  No one is being hanged.  No one’s even being tried.  They’ve all been forgiven, just as you wanted.  Just as Thomas Hamilton wanted.  So what is it that you’re fighting for that I’m not already offering? Flint:  Thomas Hamilton fought to introduce the pardons to make a point.  To seek to change England.  And he was killed for it.  His wife and I went to Charles Town to argue for the pardons, to make peace with England, and she was killed for it.  England has shown herself to me, gnarled and gray and spiteful of anyone who would find happiness under her rule.  I’m through seeking anything from England except for her departure from my island.

FLINT IS STILL DEFENDING THOMAS I’M DEAD

It must feel so good to say Thomas’s name out loud, to school some arrogant guy who thinks he understands Thomas and get to say, “I know every nuance of Thomas’s plan, LET ME TELL YOU IT.”

I totally forgot how that scene with Anne played out!  I was so upset for her, and then Vane appeared, and I was so relieved!

Anne and Vane (and Featherstone and Idelle) are very smart!  Now that Jack and the cache are in the same place, it forces people who couldn’t care less about Jack (i.e. Flint) to rescue him in order to retrieve the cache.

It’s VERY enjoyable to see all my favorite pirates on the same ship.  Jack isn’t there, but they’re talking about him, which I feel he would find satisfactory.

[florencemeivey]

I Was Lost Without You (Chapter One of “Somewhere Down the Line”

“Shepard.”

A noise in the dark; a voice she recognized from what seemed like an eternity ago. 

“Shepard.” 

There it was again. Persistent, she thought. But misguided. Shepard was dead.

“Shepard, you did your duty. But there’s one last thing you need to do.” 

No. No. No NO. NONONO. She retreated further into the darkness. What more did they want from her? What more did she have left to give? She had already given her life- surely that was enough.

“Shepard, it’s time to wake up.” 

Wake up? She would laugh if she had a mouth, a voice. How could the dead wake up? Death was a permanent sleep. Everyone knew that.

“Shepard, you’ve done it before.” 

Suddenly, there was a point of light in the dark as she remembered. The voice was right; had she not awakened from death once before? Had she not left this place before? The memory shone faintly, but it was light nonetheless. She moved towards it.

“Shepard,” The voice was stronger now. “Shepard, come back to us. Come back to me.”

The light grew larger and brighter as slowly, faces and names joined the first memory.

Kaidan Alenko.

Ashley Williams.

Jeff “Joker” Moreau.

Urdnot Wrex.

Tali’Zorah vas Normandy.

Liara T’soni.

EDI.

Miranda Lawson.

Jacob Taylor. 

Samara. 

Urdnot Grunt.

Jack.

Thane Krios.

Kasumi Goto.

Zaeed Massani.

Legion.

Mordin Solus.

James Vega.

Steve Cortez. 

Samantha Traynor.

Javik. 

With each face and name, the light grew stronger; it was soon to overwhelm the dark. Her eyes hurt, but she kept moving towards it. Finally, one last face and memory flooded the dark, drowning it all away with the brightest, greatest light yet.

Garrus Vakarian.

“Shepard, I need you. Shepard, I love you.”

Commander Shepard’s eyes opened.

Garrus was right there to see the great Commander Shepard open her eyes for the first time in over half a year. Of course, to him she was just Shepard, though just wasn’t the right word for her, because she was the love of his life.

It was his voice that coaxed her from the dark and quiet of her coma. He hadn’t known what to say when the nurses told him to try talking to her, not at first. But then he thought of what he would want to hear if their roles were switched, and suddenly the right words came to him. 

When her blue eyes opened, a moment of perfect clarity washed over Garrus, and two things became clear. One, he would do everything in his power to ensure Shepard was never taken from him again. Two, he loved Shepard with everything in him, and he wanted to be with her for the rest of their lives.

Relief followed this moment of clarity, a wave of relief and happiness and hope. The most he had ever felt before, cynic that he was. The nurses rushed around the couple, yelling for a doctor, exclaiming to one another, barking commands. But they faded around the lovers, cloudy shapes and forms, because how could they see anyone else?

Their eyes, nearly the same shade of blue, gazed into the others. Garrus took Shepard’s limp hand in his own, and brought it gently to his face. 

“Shepard,” he breathed. “Shepard, you’re home.” He turned her hand in his and kissed her palm reverently, eyes never once leaving her face. 

A tiny smile creased Shepard’s face. With great effort, she opened her mouth, and the first word on her lips since coming back to life yet again, was a name. His name.

“Garrus.” She whispered, and her eyes flooded, with pure, bounding, unadulterated joy.

“I’m home.” She agreed. 

It was a while before Shepard could see any of her other crew members, though Garrus promised they were all very anxious to see her. He wasn’t technically supposed to be in there with her either, but the hospital staff made an exception. Garrus never said, but Shepard was pretty sure intimidation was why he got a pass. Either way, he rarely left her bedside, which Shepard was glad for. She never wanted to not see his face again. 

“I’m done with dying,” she told him jokingly as they sat in her room together. It was a few days since Shepard had opened her eyes, and surprising her caretakers, who said it should be impossible, she was already sitting up and could move her hands and arm on her own. She still couldn’t walk or leave the bed without help, but there was no doubt in her mind that she would get there. Someday. 

“You’d better be,” Garrus replied. He was sitting by her bed, and she was sitting up against the pillows, eating the hospital food that she was already tired of. 

They were quiet for a bit. Garrus took Shepard’s free hand and stroked it with his thumb. In the few days since Shepard had been up, they hadn’t had much opportunity to talk about anything important. While the staff conceded that Garrus could stay with Shepard, they warned him not to talk too much or to say anything that might upset her. Her health is still delicate, they told him. She needs time to readjust. 

Shepard hated it. She wanted to talk about what had happened, to find out what Garrus and the rest of her friends and been doing in the last few months, to see what had happened as the result of her choice to destroy the Reapers.

“So, while we’re here and alone,” Shepard began, pushing the last bit of food away. The nurses would scold her, tell her she needed to eat for her strength, but she didn’t want anymore to eat. “I wanted to talk about what all happened while I was out. Like, what happened in the galaxy in the aftermath of the Reapers? What did you and all our friends do? Stuff like that.” She looked at Garrus beseechingly. 

He hesitated. “I don’t know, Shepard. You heard those nurses. They sounded pretty serious.”

Shepard rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, Garrus. Scared of a few nurses?” She teased, before becoming serious. “Look, I really need to know. I need to know where I stand, especially before our friends get here.” Especially Joker, she thought grimly. “I know not all of the news may be good, but I can take it. I’ve taken a lot worse than bad news in my time.”

“Well, alright,” Garrus said, giving in. “what did you want to know?”

Shepard’s eyes gleamed as she settled back against her pillows. “Everything. Start from the top.”

The world had been saved via Shepard’s actions, but it had also been thrust into chaos. 

All tech featuring synthetic intelligence or Reaper design had crashed. 

“That caused quite a mess,” Garrus remarked ruefully, a half-smile ghosting to life on his face nonetheless. He then became sober. “It...didn’t discriminate. EDI’s gone, Shepard.”

Shepard looked down, and twisted the sheets in her hands. 

“Shepard?” Garrus murmured. 

“I knew that would happen,” Shepard muttered guiltily. “When I made my choice…the- Catalyst- told me it wouldn’t. And, I knew EDI would be included. As well as the geth, Liara’s Glyph…” Shepard drew up her knees, wrapping her arms around them. If there had been one good thing about the coma, it was that she didn’t have to answer difficult questions, and she didn’t have to feel the crushing weight of guilt.

Garrus was quiet for a moment. Finally, he queried, “Choice?”

Shepard made herself meet Garrus’ questioning gaze. “Choice.” She confirmed. She explained in detail about the Catalyst and the form it took for her, as well as the three choices that had been offered to her.

“I knew choosing to destroy the Reapers would still come with a lot of repercussions,” Shepard told Garrus, “Like losing EDI.” She looked down at the sheets. “EDI was my friend. I didn’t want to lose her. I didn’t want to lose any of you. But, destroying the Reapers was what I had gone there to do. And the other choices, they had their own repercussions. To control the Reapers meant too many unknown variables. It would mean giving up my life for something that might not have even worked. As for synthesis, who am I to choose to merge organics and synthetics?” Shepard shook her head, and her eyes began filling with tears of frustration and guilt. “Would that even create peace? What if it only worked for some? What if…”

“Shh Shh Shh,” Garrus murmured soothingly, gathering Shepard in his arms. He breathed into the sweet red tangle of her hair, and let her sob for a moment, not having to explain herself. 

“I would have made the same choice,” Garrus told Shepard in a low voice. “Destroying the Reapers is what we set out to do. And of course,” he added, stroking Shepard’s hair fondly, “I have more selfish reasons. Those other choices sound like they involve you dying, with this time no Cerberus to put you back together.”

“Yeah.” Shepard confirmed, sounding tired. 

“This way, I get to be with you a little longer.” He looked down at the top of Shepard’s head. “I need you alive.”

“Joker probably would have said the same thing about EDI.” Shepard said quietly.

Garrus sighed. “You can’t tell Joker you had choices. He’s been...pretty upset about losing her.”

Shepard shook her head and drew away from Garrus’ arms. “No. I need to tell him. He deserves to know.” She looked out the window, and saw that the trees and grass were starting to grow back from the scorched Earth, little pokes of green in the blackened wasteland.“They all do.”

“It’s your choice,” Garrus replied. “No idea what the outcome will be, though.”

Shepard just shook her head darkly. “Keep going?” She asked.

So Garrus did. 

“The Normandy crash landed on a planet just outside the Sol Cluster. Lucky for us, it was habitable, because we were stuck there for a while.We knew that the Reapers had been destroyed, and we also knew you were the cause.” He hesitated. “So the natural conclusion was that you had died. We...held a memorial service on board. Not just for you, but for Anderson and EDI as well.” 

Garrus stopped here, and shook his head, his grip tightening on Shepard’s hand. He took a minute to compose himself, and Shepard was quiet. She knew if their spots had been reversed that this would have been a hard memory for her, as it seemed to be for Garrus. Finally, with a shuddering breath, Garrus continued on. 

“We had a plaque with your name on it. Everyone decided I ought to be the one who put your name up there, considering, well, you know. We were going to put yours up last. But Shepard, when I walked up to the Memorial Wall...I couldn’t do it. Something in me was stopping me, was telling me to hold on. I was reminded that you had survived certain death before. If anyone could have survived the destruction of the Reapers, I knew it would be you.”

Shepard’s eyes welled up again and she wordlessly outstretched her arms. Garrus fell into them, and for a long time they simply held each other. “Didn’t I tell you? You’d never be alone,” Shepard murmured.

“Never,” Garrus reaffirmed. He squeezed her tightly, gathering strength in her slender form to continue. 

“Surprisingly, no one pushed too hard about it. We all wanted you to be alive, and we were all gonna hold out hope until there was no way we could anymore. Not long after, we managed to get the ship back up, all of us working together. But when we got back into space, we ran into another problem.”

“The mass relays?” Shepard guessed.

“Yeah,” Garrus confirmed. “It was damaged, severely so. But lucky for us, once we got back in space, we were able to establish contact with the Alliance. They told us that all of the relays were damaged, but they were working tirelessly to fix them, and would stay in touch with us as they figured out how.”

“I know they must have succeeded, because you’re here, but how on earth…?” Shepard mused. “It must have been hard. We’ve never understood them fully.”

“The saving grace, as I hear it, was that while they were very damaged, they were not completely wiped out,” Garrus answered. “They were still intact, so there was still a design to work with. Not too terribly unlike the Crucible. With the scientists we helped gather for the Crucible, they began work as soon as possible. The Quarians and Salarians helped too, on their side of things. The Salarians in particular took on a lot of the responsibility.”

“Hmm,” was all Shepard said, but it was enough.

“Yeah, I know. They got a lot of backlash for their lack of help against the Reapers. From every front- humans, turians, asari, and krogan were all very critical of the Salarians’ selfish approach. Apparently, there was even talk of taking away their council seat.” Garrus shrugged. “Not sure if there’s any truth to that, but it put their asses in gear. They announced they would be focusing all their efforts in repairing the crashed technology, starting with the mass relays. Frankly, it was a win-win; because they stayed so neutral in the war, they still had a lot of resources to put into this research, so they were the best candidates for taking the helm. Furthermore, they needed to redeem themselves.”

“I’m guessing they did?” Shepard asked.

Garrus nodded. “Definitely. They managed to get the relays back to limited functionality in the span of about six months. Only military ships and absolutely necessary travel was permitted at first, but the Normandy fit that, so we navigated our way back to Earth as soon as we were able.”

“And how soon before you found out I was alive?” Shepard questioned.

“Three days before you woke back up,” Garrus answered grimly.

Shepard’s eyebrows shot up. “That soon?”

“From what I’ve been told, it was a few days before your body was even found,” Garrus replied. “You were buried under some rubble, at the heart of the destruction. They didn’t even realize you were alive at first, you were so beat up.”

Shepard knew this was likely true, as she touched her face. Nothing hurt, but it would have then if she had been conscious. New scars now marred her face; when she had first looked in a mirror since waking up, she had joked to Garrus, “We’re twins, now.” Many of her bones had been broken; her armor and cybernetics had protected her vital organs, but it couldn’t save everything. She still couldn’t walk or move her legs without assistance. Ruefully, Shepard reminded herself that she was still lucky. She could have very easily been one of the dead. 

“When they did,” Garrus continued, “you were rushed to a makeshift hospital first. You were one of many, and since none of us were around to claim you, you became lost in the crowd for a time.”

“I imagine people thinking I was dead helped with that,” Shepard remarked drily. 

“Probably. You didn’t have your dog tags either, and your armor had been destroyed, so they had no way of knowing you were even Alliance. They just treated you as one of the unknowns. Eventually, after about three months, you were one of the last unclaimed, and the staff wanted to know why. They thought you were probably a soldier given where you were found, and the fact that you were found in armor, that it was destroyed notwithstanding. So they contacted the Alliance, and told them they might have one of their people. They were spread pretty thin at that point; a lot of people died in the war, and there was just so much destruction to deal with. Still, they sent someone down, and luckily for us he recognized you. They had to be sure, though, so Admiral Hackett came down himself to verify, and they tested your identifiers against the records they had for you. Both confirmed it was you.” 

“Admiral Hackett made it?” Shepard asked, perking up.

“He sure did,” Garrus affirmed affectionately. “So they moved you to an Alliance hospital, and recognized you as having survived.”

“So how come you didn’t know about me until a few days before I woke up?” Shepard asked, frowning.

Garrus shrugged, looking frustrated and moody. “They gave some excuse about not wanting to put the news out over the airways just yet. So it wasn’t until last week when we landed that we found out.” 

Shepard leaned back against her pillows thoughtfully. She could sort of understand the Alliance’s gesture. If they announced that she was alive only for her to die not long after, then what sort of hope did that inspire in people? There may also be people who would want to take advantage of her vegetative state, if they knew about it. She wasn’t sure why exactly the Alliance made that call, but she realized that if it were Garrus, and if it was the Turian Hierarchy that was hiding him, Shepard would be pissed too. 

“And then of course, there was red tape once we did find out. Naturally we all wanted to come see you immediately, but they weren’t allowing any visitors. They told us you were in a coma and were “delicate.”

“Never heard that word used to describe me,” Shepard commented, frowning.

“Who could unless you were in a coma?” Garrus joked, before becoming serious. “We went back and forth for a few days before they finally relented and let me come to see you. It was your Admiral Hackett who gave the O.K.” Garrus looked sheepish here. “It seems some anonymous source told him I was your boyfriend and that we were madly in love? His words when he gave his consent, not mine.” Garrus blushed the way Shepard had learned turians do, their face plates becoming tinged with blue. “Though, they weren’t wrong. Just wasn’t really prepared to hear your boss say that.”

“Liara!” Shepard growled, then laughed throatily. “Oh, this has her written all over it.”

“You may be right,” Garrus chuckled. “We’ll have to get her back for that one. Either way, it worked. He said that as your partner, legal or otherwise, I had the all-clear to visit you, in case things suddenly went south, I guess. I’m sure he wasn’t anticipating you waking up to the sound of my voice,” Garrus teased, chucking Shepard lightly under the chin.

“And were you?” Shepard countered with a smile. 

“I wanted to believe it would,” Garrus replied, looking down. “So I said what I thought I’d want to hear, were our roles switched.”

Shepard raised Garrus’ chin so that their eyes could meet. “Thank you.” She replied simply, and the couple exchanged a tender kiss. 

“Soo...how soon do you think until we can, ah…?” Shepard stated suggestively, after pulling away from Garrus. She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Can we….?” Garrus replied, feigning ignorance. “What, tango again? Have a shooting contest? Do some calibrations? I’m not following here, Shepard.”

She swung her pillow at him, hitting his shoulder. “I’ll calibrate you!” She hit him repeatedly as they laughed, Garrus play-cowering under the soft thumps of her pillow. 

Eventually they calmed down. “Ahh...probably not until you have control over your legs again, Shepard,” Garrus replied seriously. 

Shepard nodded, resigned to her momentary celibacy. “I thought that might be the case.” 

They were quiet for a moment, before Shepard brightened back up. 

“Guess that means I need to begin my physical therapy ASAP!”

Garrus smiled. “You giant dork.” Then, quietly, sincerely, “I love you.”

Shepard smiled at Garrus, and placed her hand on his cheek. “How long I’ve been waiting to hear that.” She leaned in, and the couple exchanged another kiss, a kiss that was long, slow, sweet, and full of gratitude for fate and the funny ways it worked sometimes. 

[alottanothing]

Left to Ruin: Chapter Five

Summary: Ahkemenrah and his sister struggle to come to terms with their arranged marriage. The pharaoh meets with suitors to become his second wife; he finds it hard, however, to give them his heart when he remembers someone else who has already claimed it.  

Previous Chapters

Word Count: 7009

Warnings:This one gets a wee bit spicy, not completely smut, but it’s heavily implied. 

Tag List:  @xmxisxforxmaybe​, @r-ahh-mi​, @theultraviolencefan​, @hah0106​, @rami-malek-trash​, @diasimar​, @sherlollydramoine​, @flipper-kisses​, @ivy-miranda-2390​, @txmel​, @sunkissedmikky​, @concentratedsassandcandy​, @babyalienfairy​ (Let me know if I missed you, or if you would like to be added to the tag list)

A/N: Oh man this chapter’s a long one, but, it might be one of my favorites. Shout out to those of you who have been liking, rebloging and commenting! I’m a gooey mess of warmth when is read what stuck out, so thank you all a million times. Y’all are rock stars. ❤️❤️Again, as a disclaimer, I am not an ancient Egyptian expert and google only knows so much. So yeah, I took so historical liberties while writing this to make my life easier, but tried to keep it as “authentic” as possible. As another helpful note, Ahk is 23 by the end of this chapter and Set 18. 

Much like his responsibilities as ruler of the great empire of Egypt, maintaining the charade of a blossoming marriage became easier with every passing day. Ahkmenrah and Setshepsut’s fondness and their genuine love of one another helped to sell the narrative they wanted to. During the day they were busy tending to matters for their respective roles, only coming together for meals. Their nights, however, were always spent together in the privacy of the pharaoh’s bed-chamber, doing whatever they pleased in their few hours free of responsibility.

Most nights they played game after game of Senet, and most of those nights Ahkmenrah let his little sister win just to see that childlike joy spread over her face. Before long though, it was Set who was letting him win much to the pharaoh’s frustration. Even so, Ahk could think of nothing he cherished more than the laughs they shared.

Other nights they would sit on the balcony or lean on the rail looking out over the city as they passed the hours with conversation much like the night they married. Setshepsut loved Ahkmenrah’s stories about his time away from the capital. Even after she heard them a dozen times, she still listened with wonderment in her eyes, and Ahk was only too happy to regale her with as much detail as he could pull from his memory.

Some nights, hardly a word would pass between them, and they would spend the hours with a lonely silence that reminded them of the chains they wore. Ahkmenrah would distract himself from the obvious tension with matters of the realm, busying himself with a hundred tasks scribbled out on stacks of papyrus. Setshepsut would tuck her self far away, in a corner or on the balcony to read histories or poetry without saying so much as a hello or a good-bye, before returning to her own chamber to be free of the strain duty was putting on their kinship.

Ahkmenrah hated those nights when the weight of what they weren’t doing hung so heavily upon them that the mere sight of the other curled a frown on their face. He preferred the nights of game playing or storytelling, when he could make out the glimmer of life in her eyes. There was still so much of his sister that was a child, especially those first two years of their marriage. Ahkmenrah wanted to preserve the child who was still clinging to her, not destroy it. He forfeited his own childhood by choice of accepting the crown; Setshepsut was not given the same choice.

For those first few years, his attempts were successful at encouraging the wonderment of her youth—teaching her about their nation's cultures, histories, and fables. As time progressed, however, wisdom began poking through the ever-fading veil of her childhood, giving way to the wisdom and spirit of a young woman Ahkmenrah greatly admired. Their conversations began to shift to subjects far deeper than tales of places he had seen. They spoke of life and of dreams; dreams they both knew were out of reach for people in their position. Still, under the stars on the balcony, Ahkmenrah cherished every word they shared no matter how bitter, or sweet.

Setshepsut entered the pharaoh's chambers one night, three years into their phony marriage, carrying with her a mien that piqued Ahk’s interest in a way that made him feel abruptly ill at ease. He greeted her as he always did, with a smile and a light kiss to her cheek, and her curious demeanor became more evident the closer he was to her. Ahkmenrah’s smile faded slightly feeling the peculiar vibe and elected the stack of papyrus he’d been looking over could wait until later.

He held Set an arm's length away, his hands planted gently on her shoulders as he searched her expression for a hint as to what was causing his spirited sister such unease.

“What’s wrong?” 

Set swallowed nervously and sighed.

“Set?” Ahk tested, drawing her attention back to him when it began to stray.

“I have something I must tell you—a secret. And I hope that you will help me keep it.”

She said nothing more and walked hastily out to the balcony, leaning against the wide edge of the stone railing to better gaze out over the city. Ahk followed, curiosity and fear fueling his movements. A thousand things flashed into his mind as to what it could be his sister needed to tell him, each slightly more concerning than the last. And by the time he placed himself beside her, he was out of breath, with his heart racing.

“You can tell me anything, you know that,” Ahkmenrah assured her, wishing she would hurry up and end his internal suffering.

“There’s a soldier called Satauhotep. He’s very kind…”

Suddenly, the nervousness on her features lessened, turning into something deeply wistful. A soft smile curled onto her lips and pink tinted her cheeks. She was very obviously infatuated and was scared he might be mad at her on account.

“We’ve sort of been meeting in private—he kissed me once. But I promise nothing more than that.” Set said, some of that concern casting a veil over her smitten features.

He should have warned her, should have told her how dangerous it was for her and a soldier—or anyone—to be caught together. But Ahkmenrah decided not to be angry: foolish as that might have been.

The wife of the pharaoh was to remain loyal to no other man, even if their union hardly classified as a marriage in their minds. To others, they were king and queen, and a queen could be punished for acting so adulterous.

When he smiled, the apprehension vanished from Setshepsut’s face, and her usual spirit quickly surged through her. A part of Ahk feared that fire inside of her would die if she remained stagnantly tethered to him—so he smiled and decided not to be angry.

“This is blessed news. I will gladly keep this secret for you.”

“Really?” Set almost looked surprised.

“Of course,” Ahk promised. 

It wasn’t lost to him that, for her, their marriage was more akin to a life sentence of servitude. Ahkmenrah didn’t want to think about what would become of his sister if she was denied happiness her entire life. As pharaoh, he could take any number of wives to sate his own desires, but Setshepsut? Set could only ever have him, and he was not who she wanted.

“I am truly happy you have found someone, Set. But please be careful,” Ahk warned. “Even as pharaoh, I don’t know if I can protect you both should you get caught.”

“I know,” Setshepsut said softly, meeting his eyes. “Satau does too. He just—he makes me happy. I can’t really explain it beyond that.”

Her gaze turned back out over the city, that familiar guise of infatuation settling firmly across her features. As he looked at her in that stricken state of affection, Ahkmenrah couldn’t help but be envious of the love his sister had found. What followed, however, was a strong yank of sorrow pulling at his heartstrings that stirred memories and a grief he hadn’t thought of in years.

“What are you thinking about?” Set said, catching her brother’s suddenly wistful expression.

“Nouke…” Ahkmenrah whispered, and just saying her name caused his heart to hammer and to break all at once as he realized he had almost let her slip from his memory.  

***

The king and queen’s perfect pantomime held strong for five years before anyone thought to question the legitimacy of their marriage. Surprisingly, Setshepsut’s infatuation with Satauhotep had broken up the monotony their routine had fallen into. Set was happier, and Ahk was happier because she was happier. The three of them could have gone on for many more years that way, but Ahk was called to an early council meeting one afternoon that chose to hinder their comfortable ritual.

The pharaoh was smart enough to know why his advisors summoned him midday to discuss important ‘family matters', and to some extent; it was odd that the council—and his father—had taken so long to bring up the issue concerning heirs. Or lack thereof, rather. And while he knew such a time would come; Ahk found he was ill-prepared to answer the questions his councilors threw at him.

“It’s not for a lack of trying,” Ahkmenrah lied.

Until then, he’d remained vague, which made his father’s glower grow significantly. The pharaoh felt horrible for lying, but that was the best way to keep their charade from seeing the light. He knew the importance of leaving behind heirs to ensure the longevity of the family bloodline. He respected that principle and would abide by it as long as Setshepsut had no part in it.

“Perhaps the queen cannot bear children,” one of the advisors suggested.

Ahkmenrah sat in his chair, listening idly to the men at his table bicker about possible reasons why the king and queen had no children. It was almost comical that none of them even considered the truth.

Finally, Merenkahre silenced them all with the raising of his hand and turned his intense eyes to his son.

“Whatever the reason is; I think it is time our pharaoh takes a second wife. If the queen will not give him children, then another will.”

Ahkmenrah sat up straighter, considerably more interested in the council meeting after hearing his father’s suggestion. His smile was difficult to keep reserved, and his stomach tingled excitedly with a hopefulness that he couldn't quite place.

“Would that be satisfactory to the king?” Meren asked, a single brow hooked high on his forehead.

“Very satisfactory,” Ahkmenrah agreed. “However, I want to choose my bride this time.”

“Yes, my thoughts as well,” his father concurred quickly, as though he already prepared for Ahk to demand such an ultimatum. “You will choose from an audience of suitors the council has deemed appropriate for you.”

A frown threatened to twist onto Ahkmenrah’s features, suddenly feeling that pleasant tingle in his stomach shift to irritation.

“Appropriate?” 

“Yes, my king,” Merenkahre assured him. “Ladies who are deserving of you, and will bring you, sons and daughters.”

Trained servants to open their legs for me, is more like it, Ahk thought trying to stifle his sneer.

He wasn’t interested in women who lacked their own dreams and desires; most noble ladies he had met were no more than trained animals. They wanted nothing other than to please their powerful husband and give him sons. He wanted someone who loved him; and shared like-minded thoughts. Someone spirited and adventurous. But Ahkmenrah wasn’t allowed to be so greedy. Marriage for a pharaoh was a political stratagem and nothing more. What his mother and father had was unique for a king and queen. Every century or so, the stars aligned and two souls were allowed to join outside the normal order as Merenkahre and Shepseheret had done. Ahkmenrah was too late for that chance.

“I suppose there is no sense in trying to change your mind on that?” Ahkmenrah probed.

Merenkahre remained resolute, “It’s what’s best for Egypt.”

A bereft sigh escaped the pharaoh’s lips, and he folded.

“So be it.” Ahk stood and looked to his father. “I’ll leave the remainder of this council meeting in your capable hand's father. I need the rest of the evening to think.”

All the men at the table hurried to their feet and bowed as he left saying nothing more. He spent an hour walking in a loop through the palace halls, brooding while trying to find a silver lining in the latest obstacle laid before him. By the time he made it back to his bedchambers, both his feet and his mind were sore from their work out.

Setshepsut was already inside, lounging on a padded bench, boredly eating from a platter of fresh fruit. She threw him a smile as a greeting but nothing more. Despite her relationship with the soldier Satauhotep letting a little bit of steam out of the metaphorical pot of their marriage, the routine often still felt tiresome. Both of them would have loved to be free to do anything other than faking it.

“You’re back from council early,” she fished, as she continued snacking.

Ahkmenrah’s lips pressed into a hard line as he thought back to the discussions he’d endured while he shrugged out of his golden robes and left them in a pile near the edge of his bed. He removed his crown as well, heedlessly tossing it onto the cushion of where he slept and sauntered over to join his sister on the bench.

She offered him the platter of fruits and Ahk absently picked a date to nosh on.

“The council and father are on to us,” he sighed.

“Five years and no children? I suspect they should be.” Setshepsut shrugged. “So what has the council decided should be done about the issue?”

“I am to take another wife—father is arranging suitors for me to meet with,”

The expression on Setshepsut’s face changed from one of mild indifference to a sort of happy sadness that Ahk had not expected to find when he looked at her.

“What are you thinking?” 

A rueful smile ghosted onto her lips, and she half shrugged.

“Nothing—I’m just glad…” 

“Glad?” Ahk’s brows knit together.

“Yeah,” she looked at him, her big dark eyes meeting his with ample compassion. “I’m glad that you may finally find some happiness.”

Ahkmenrah looked at her adoringly. He knew her well enough to read between the lines: she was happy he may have a chance to find love, but sad she could not pursue the love she had found.

“I’m happy with you, Set,” Ahk assured her, not knowing what else to say.

“I know, me too.” More sorrow darkened her expression. “But you and I will never be completely happy this way.”

Another piece of that little girl he’d grown up with vanished in that moment causing a poignant tug on Ahkmenrah’s heart strings. She was too wise for her own good.

Ahkmenrah sighed and said nothing more, giving his sister a soft kiss to her cheek before going to distract himself with his endless stacks of papyrus’.  

***

It took Merenkahre all of two days to gather an audience of suitable women for Ahkmenrah to choose from. He came to the pharaoh’s bed-chamber early that morning with a taut smile on his lips, wearing an air of pride that could almost rival the one Kahmunrah carried every day without reason.

Ahk dismissed the servants who had been helping him into his usual raiment with a wave and finished the task himself.

“There are five beautiful young ladies awaiting your approval in the throne room,” Merenkahre told him.

“I commend you for making such quick work of this issue, father,” Ahk stated, unsure if his own tone was genuine or sardonic.

Meren always pursued a task with the utmost devotion and haste. However, Ahkmenrah felt that the matter of choosing potential brides should have been executed a little slower. Nevertheless, Ahk swallowed his own irritation and threw on as genuine a smile as he could muster—if only to please his father.

“So when am I to meet them?”

“As soon as you are ready, my son,” Merenkahre said.

“Perfect.” Ahkmenrah finished dressing by placing his crown upon his head and followed his father to the throne room to meet the brides chosen for him, one of with whom he would have to spend the rest of his life with.

The pharaoh took his rightful place on the golden throne, situating himself comfortably but also as regally as he could manage. His father stood beside him and gave the order to bring the king his prospective brides.

They were all beautiful—his father was correct to tell him so. The women before him glittered like gemstones, draped in finery that almost eclipsed his own. Each one was brought before him, introduced like a product for purchase (a rather off-putting notion for the pharaoh) and primly stepped aside for the next one to be ushered in.

Three of them were daughters of respected noble families Ahk knew to be of Waset. Another was the niece of one of his councilors, and the last, who was vaguely familiar to him. Nensala was from Men-nefer, and the youngest daughter of Sefkh: the man who hosted him and his father all those years ago in his city. He recalled her kindness and how much she reminded him of Setshepsut; Ahkmenrah was glad to see at least one familiar face before him.

“I am heartened by your beauty, and your presence, my ladies,” Ahkmenrah stated, taking on his best official-sounding bravado. “I invite you to share my home for the next few weeks, so that I may get to know each of you before I make my decision.”

Ahk instructed his servants to ready chambers for each of them.

“Please, take this evening to get settled. I will call upon you in the coming days.”

The women all graced him with gleaming smiles and bowed as they were escorted out of the throne room and to their own chambers.

Over the course of two weeks, Ahkmenrah upheld his end of the bargain he and his father had come to and devoted as much of his time as he could to acquainting himself with the ladies chosen to be his bride. He was hopeful in the beginning—longing to harness merely a sliver of potential love, but little by little that hope waned. The pharaoh tried to find a connection between each of them he courted, but despite all the kindling, nothing sparked. It was as he feared: each of them wanted nothing more than to serve him. They lacked dreams and wisdom that made people so unique.

After a week of nothing but wholehearted attempts to find a woman who he would be glad to name as his wife, with nothing to show for it but exhaustion of mind and soul, Ahkmenrah chose to take one evening for himself. His chambers were quiet and blessedly free of suitors who shared no more in common with him then the plants in the gardens.

He was laying across his bed, eyes locked with the tall ceiling, swimming through his own thoughts when Setshepsut came to visit.

“Hello,” he said in a dark monotone that matched the heaviness in his heart.

She laid beside her brother when he motioned for her to join by patting the empty space next to him. Her eyes stayed fixated at the hieroglyphs etched onto the ceiling as well, for a long time. Ahk felt some of the tension begin to ebb with the quiet company of his sister, once again grateful that it was Setshepsut he was bound to.

“What’s wrong with them?” Set finally asked.

Ahkmenrah only shrugged. 

“Well surely there must be something wrong with them--they are all so beautiful.” Setshepsut teased, elbowing his side gently.

Ahk, however, sighed and frowned, not in the mood for her wit.

“That is the problem. They have beauty alone.”

Set was quiet a moment, then turned on her side, propping her head on her elbow.

“Don’t most men only want pretty wives?”

A slow smile crept onto his lips in spite of his sour mood, and he rolled his eyes.

“Forgive me for holding such high standards. I happen to have been raised around a slew of women who were both beautiful and smart. Is it too selfish of me to want both of my wives to be this way?”

They both began to chuckle. Heartened, genuine laughs that the two of them had not shared in a long time, bringing tears to their eyes and a dull ache in their muscles from how hard they’d let go. For a moment, the entire world was made up of only the two of them, and it was a welcomed feeling to be free of reality, even if only for a few seconds.

When the laughter settled, and gentle smiles were all that remained of their fit of giggles, Ahk’s mind began to wander into those almost forgotten times when the golden shackles he wore held a longer chain. Memories stirred of his childhood, and the one person who he was sad no longer was a part of his life.

“I wonder what happened to Nouke after she and her family left?” he thought aloud before he could stop himself.

Nearly a decade had passed since he last saw his friend from the garden. He hoped she was still just as spirited as he remembered.

“I imagine she’s somewhere happily married, with a handful of children who love her…” he mused with a sad smile.

He could feel Set’s eyes upon his face, but Ahk’s stayed transfixed in the space above him, his mind still drawing images of Nouke and the family she may have.

“Ahkmen?” Setshepsut said a while later in a voice only an octave above a whisper.

“Hhmm?”

“Do you think the reason you find it so difficult to give your heart to one of these girls is because you gave it away a long time ago...to Nouke?”

Finally, Ahkmenrah’s eyes tore away from the ceiling, blown wide with realization as he gazed at his sister. She knew him better than he knew himself.

Set smiled at the look of shock on her brother's face and returned to her previous position of staring at the ceiling.  

“You mustn’t lose hope that you will never find love again. Don’t waste the freedom that you hold, and I lack. Please.”

Despite the deep-rooted sadness in her tone, Ahkmenrah still found hope lingering just beneath the surface of her features. Seeing him freely court others was beginning to dampen her spirit; it hurt her that she couldn’t do the same with the man she loved without fear. Set did well to mask that ache though.

Ahk turned his eyes back to the ceiling and slid his hand to hold hers—a comfort both knew to show their understanding.

“I will have Satauhotep added to your personal guard. That way, the two of you may be seen together without cause for suspicion. It’s not a lot--”

Set squeezed his fingers, and cut him off, “It’s enough.”

***

After two weeks, only one suitor remained, Nensala, although, in the pharaoh’s mind, he had already dismissed her as he had the others. There was, however, an intriguing allure to her for Ahkmenrah that none of the other brides had. She was the only one whom he had known previously. Nensala was eleven the last time he saw her the night before an assassin sought to take his life while he slept.

When he met her in the courtyard, her beauty threw a veil over the little girl in his memories; she was a vision in the dulling light of the afternoon. Her skin was delicate against his when she took the arm he offered, and her smile was almost a song as she leaned against his side. It would have been easy to get lost in her physical beauty, but Ahkmenrah was determined to find a bride whose soul matched his own.

He led her on a leisure stroll throughout his palace and its grounds as he had all the others, doing his best to keep his mind away from Nouke. In fact, he'd found it hard not to dwell on his friend from the garden ever since his mind allowed her to settle into the forefront of his memory. Ahkmenrah’s heart yearned for her, yearned to be present in her enchanting spirit that he adored in his youth. It was she whom he had compared all of his potential brides to, and none of them could fill the hole her absence had left inside him.

“Forgive me, my king. But you seem distracted.” Nensala’s voice was soft when she spoke.

Ahkmenrah blinked back to reality, finding they had wandered into the West Garden, and a mirthless chuckle escaped his pursed lips.

“Fitting,” he quipped, glancing around as if to look for his friend he knew wouldn’t be there.

Nensala’s eyes followed his, her forehead creasing with puzzlement as she turned back to look at him.

“What is?”    

A poignant ache tightened in his stomach taking in the empty garden and the silent histories hidden there. He wanted to speak of his friend, their adventures; to reminisce freely, but that would not be kingly.

“I spent a lot of my youth in this garden,” Ahk mused. “With my friend Nouke.”

“Nouke?”  “She was a servant girl—we were inseparable."

A gentle smile lit up Nensala’s face, and she took his hand and led him to the edge of the fountain. She urged him to sit beside her on its wide edge, and spoke.

“Tell me about her.” 

A grin unfurled slowly on his face, only too happy to speak of his friend. He told her of all the games they would play, all the scorching afternoons they spent splashing in the waters of the fountain. The pharaoh spoke of everything except the secret passage they used to venture along the Nile; those memories were sacred to him, kept safely locked away in his heart.

“What happened to her?”

A frown twisted the nostalgic smile off of Ahkmenrah’s face, and he shrugged.

“Her family left our services. By the time I returned from my travels across Egypt, she was gone. I haven’t seen her since.”

“That’s sad,” Nensala murmured, with a genuine ruefulness. 

“Mmm,” Ahkmenrah hummed, his mind lost again in thoughts of Nouke. “I think that’s why I have had such trouble finding another bride…”

“None of us are her…” Nensala finished for him, and for the first time, he truly looked at her.

Her sorrow for him was palpable, and it made his heart feel warm.

“I can understand that,” she said, taking his hand in hers. “There was this boy who came to visit my city years ago; he was so kind, and handsome—with a head full of dreams. My father has had a terrible time trying to find me a husband because no man he has ever brought me has been him.”

Suddenly, Ahkmenrah’s heart was aching for her and for himself. Did she truly see him? See past the golden raiment? She’d been the only one so far to even kindle something more than mediocre conversation. 

“What happened to him?” Ahk asked, truly curious.

She grinned, and the sparkle in her stormy eyes made his heart race.

“He returned to the capital and became pharaoh, taking his sister for a wife.”

Before her words had time to register she scooted closer and leaned to kiss him softly—a test to gauge his reaction. Although his mind was still overrun with thoughts of Nouke, Ahkmenrah found his eyes closing, returning Nensala’s chaste kiss; all of those latent desires bursting with rapid heat.  

It was the first time that he’d been touched since his marriage. There had been many who had caught his eye during a feast or festival he'd hosted; ladies he wanted nothing more than to make his for a night as he’d done countless times before gaining a queen. However, Ahk felt it too unfair—perhaps even cruel—to act so heedlessly on his desires when Setshepsut could not. Over the years those urges had grown numb until Nensala made him realize just how touch starved he truly was.

When she pulled away, there was a slight pinkish hue tinting her cheeks, and she let her eyes fall from his in mild embarrassment.

“Forgive me, my king, for my forwardness.”  

He placed a finger under her chin and tilted her head until her eyes met his own. Lust was spreading like fire inside of him; a gnawing desperation for the need to touch and to be touched clouding all rational thoughts in his mind. A frown began to turn Nensala’s features, a result of his gawking silence, but before she could look away, Ahkmenrah claimed her mouth with a ravenous desire.

His tongue quickly flicked along her lips, stealing a taste, that caused her to open for him with a sigh—her own yearning an echo of his own. Ahk’s hands framed her face, urging her to close the gap between them, not wanting her mouth to leave his until he’d had his fill.    

They were both gasping when they broke away, and he found her eyes twinkling with wonderment. Her fingers trailed along his jaw, drawing him to her mouth again and Ahk met her halfway. There was a desperation in the way their lips danced, passion too, or perhaps it was simply lust. Nevertheless, Ahkmenrah was consumed. She whimpered a bereft cry when he broke their kiss again, but he took Nensala by the hand and whisked her away to the privacy of his bed-chamber.

Ahkmenrah was glad to find his room empty—Setshepsut nowhere to be seen. For a fleeting moment, a pang of guilt wrestled his lust hazed mind, thinking about his sister and the actions their marriage forbid only she from doing. However, he didn’t dwell on it; he needed to feel something. He only hoped Setshepsut would understand.  

Nensala’s eyes took in the grandeur of the pharaoh’s chamber with wonderment and a smile and when her eyes found his bed, she glanced back at him with a coy smirk.

“My king?” she asked, and he answered with a nod of consent.

She approached him slowly, and he watched, hanging on her every movement, taking in just how thin the linen of her gown was. Delicate hands removed his crown, weaving through his hair and when she pulled his bottom lip between her teeth, licking the sensitive skin, heat pooled in his groin.  

His guilt was at war with his desire; and his desire was winning. Ahk’s eyes slid shut at the surge of pleasure her every touch invoked. Deft fingers snaked down his back, spurring a wave of goosebumps over his flesh, as she worked to loosen the fastenings of his wesekh, laying kisses to his jaw as she did. The jeweled collar fell heedlessly between them to the ground, his golden robes slipping from his shoulders in a heap alongside it.

Before Nensala’s hands could finish their downward trajectory, Ahkmenrah grabed her wrists and pulls away from her kisses. At that moment, the pharaoh considered ordering her to leave him so he could retain his silent vow of abstinence a while longer, but his will betrayed him.

With a wordless instruction, he nodded towards his bed. That same, impish smirk unfurled on her lips as she turned to do as her king commanded and perched herself on its edge. Without ceremony, Ahkmenrah removed the rest of his garments, leaving all of them a forgotten pile on the floor.  

Her eyes never strayed from his as he trod across the room, stopping to loom over her. The intensity in her eyes matched the burning in his core and when she stood, Nensala pushed the straps of her dress from her shoulders, allowing it to fall in a whisper from her body. Ahk pulled her against him, his fingertips pressing possessively into the soft flesh of her hips, reveling in the feel of her breasts against his chest. That sudden friction sparked a moan from deep within both. When Ahkmenrah kissed her again, it was fervent and powerful, the kiss of a virile king and Nensala surrendered herself to him, allowing her pharaoh to chase away all of his desires begging to be set free.

 For the first time in a long time, Ahkmenrah felt a sense of peace come over him—no matter how minuscule it was. It was as though his spirit was anew and the air that filled his lungs was inherently more soothing. Losing himself in another person allowed him to find the pieces of him that had been missing for longer than he cared to remember. In his heart, he still missed his friend, but perhaps he’d found room to learn to love the woman in his bed. 

He called for his servants to bring them a tray of fresh fruits and breads to share as they lounged in cheerful company telling stories. Nen spoke of her family back home—her older sisters and their husbands, her brothers and their wives, and all of her nieces and nephews. In return Ahk spoke of his own family. He couldn’t help but find her presence wholly inviting, and yet his mind never failed to trail back to his friend from the garden.

In an attempt to deter the thoughts of Nouke, Ahkmenrah finally mustered the courage to ask the one question that none of his other potential brides could answer correctly: what was it she wanted out of life, what dreams did she have?

Nensala thought for a moment, her lighthearted expression growing pensive as she really considered her answer.

“There are many places I would love to see—the pyramids. They’ve always intrigued me; the stories there. They’re but a half day’s journey from Men-nefer, but I’ve never gone. And the way you spoke of the Mediterranean? I’d love to see those blue waters.”   

Ahk listened to her avidly as a hopefulness began to take root in his bones. All he wanted was to share his life with someone who he could love, who harnessed the same sense of adventure and adoration for making the most of every day. However, the wistful expression on Nensala’s face fell when she sighed.

“What I want doesn’t matter, though. What does is your happiness, my king.”

Her words were like a knife to him. All of that hope vanished, and he felt knots tighten in his stomach.

“I could make you happy,” she smirked, not taking notice of his suddenly cold expression. “I have already, haven’t I?”

Defeat quickly washed away all the pieces of him he’d thought he’d recovered in her company. She was like all the rest—he was merely a prize that she was ready to bow and succumb to. She held no conviction of her own or integrity. Nensala was trained like all the other brides had been.

“Yes,” he said finally, fighting hard to keep from frowning.

Their conversation lulled soon after, and Ahkmenrah demanded she left, offering no reason. Nensala didn’t question him—more evidence of his fear. He walked her to his door and thanked her for her company, laying a kiss to her cheek and bid her goodnight. 

***

Be it from his own guilt, or the simple want to do something nice for his sister; Ahkmenrah arranged for Satauhotep to join them for a private dinner soon after all the suitors were gone. The modest soiree provided a much-needed distraction from everything that was making the pharaoh’s life significantly less enchanting. His father was unpleased that he ordered his potential brides to leave, he missed Nouke more than he ever had before, and he needed a break from it all.

Set was overjoyed with the idea of a dinner together. Satauhotep however, looked understandably alarmed to find the pharaoh seated at the table they were to share in the secluded dining chamber.

He quickly relinquished Setshepsut’s hand and fell to his knees, muttering a firm, “My king!”, as he did.

“There is no need for such formality here,” Ahkmenrah said with a smirk. “You may rise.” 

Setshepsut helped him stand, and that same look of alarm was on his face when he met the pharaoh’s gaze.

“May I speak freely, my king?” Satauhotep swallowed nervously.

“Of course, I would have it no other way.”

The soldier's eyes drifted between Setshepsut and his king, and he swallowed again before he spoke.

“What is the meaning of this invitation?”

Ahkmenrah smiled and looked at his sister.

“This is my gift to her. And I thought it time I finally met you.”

Satauhotep’s nervousness began to meld into panic, but Setshepsut took his hand to calm him.

“It’s okay, Satau. He knows—he’s known for a while,” she assured him, kissing his cheek.

Color slowly started to come back to the soldier’s features as his mind worked through what Setshepsut confessed, and he looked to Ahkmenrah for some form of reassurance.

“Set told me years ago the two of you met. I only apologize it’s taken me this long to have officially met you.”

A heavy line creased his forehead and surely a hundred questions flooded into his mind.

“W-why am I not being reprimanded? To court your queen—that’s punishable by death.”

“What my sister and I share is a contract, written on a scroll of papyrus by my father—it’s political and nothing more. We’ve been playing our roles for the public alone. Otherwise, our union has been inordinately platonic.”

Satauhotep blinked, confusion drifting over his face as visible as clouds in the sky.

“But I escort you to the pharaoh’s chambers each night—you don’t…?”

Set chuckled, “We play Senet for hours—Ahkmen’s terrible.”

“I taught you how to play Senet,” Ahkmenrah quipped throwing a soured look to his sister.

“You’re still terrible.” She shrugged.

The pharaoh rolled his eyes as he smirked.

“I never told you any of this because it was easiest to keep it between Ahkmen and myself,” Set told him.

“And if you vow not to tell a soul that Set and I are putting on a ruse,” Ahk said. “I promise that I will keep your relationship with my sister a secret.”

For the first time, Satauhotep’s features broke into a smile, and he accepted, pulling Set in for a deep kiss that filled Ahk’s heart with a bubbling warmth to witness. 

The rest of the evening progressed calmly and the pharaoh let himself fade into the background, allowing his sister and her lover some real time so their love could blossom. Watching them together overwhelmed him with both joy and sadness. Their affection for one another enveloped the other in a tangible glow that was brighter than all the lamps and torches combined. A thousand words of poetry drifted between them in the quiet of their intimate glances.

Ahkmenrah found himself turning away just to give them a moment of the privacy they longed to have; it pained him they could not act on what they shared. His actions with Nensala were brought on by unsated lust and greed, on his end, and hers; there was no love there. After seeing what it was his sister was aching to have, Ahkmenrah hated himself even more for giving in.

When Ahkmenrah excused himself, Set gave him a questioning look, but he assured her that no one would bother them, as long as they stayed in that chamber. He bid them both goodnight and returned to his own chamber feeling profoundly tired—worn thin by the cards life had dealt him.

Ahkmenrah wasn’t sure how late it was, or how long after he’d excused himself from dinner when Setshepsut came into his chamber, a vision of love and practically floating across the floor. He welcomed her tight hug gladly, tired of looking out over the city with longing as he thought.

“Thank you, so much, Ahkmen.” She spoke against his chest as she gripped him tighter with her appreciation.

Ahkmenrah hugged her back just as tightly, relishing in the sweetness of her words and the tone that accompanied them.

“Will you sit with me a second? I need to speak to you.”

Concern darkened her carefree demeanor, and she sat next to him on the bench against the balcony railing. Her worry only lessened when Ahkmenrah cast her a gentle smile and took her hands in his.

“I approve wholeheartedly of Satauhotep. He’s kind and strong—the kind of man who can love and protect you in ways that I am unable to.”

Setshepsut grinned and squeezed his fingers.

“I’ve decided; I will find a bride, soon. That way, I can release you from this marriage—you and Satauhotep can be together without fear.”

After watching his sister and her lover, Ahkmenrah realized that his own happiness mattered little to him, and he’d come to accept his time to truly be happy had come and gone in his youth. Kings had to make sacrifices. And if he could grant Setshepsut a life of happiness with someone she loved by making another sacrifice, Ahkmenrah knew he could live the remainder of his days content with the knowledge she was with someone she wanted. Perhaps in time, he could learn to sacrifice even more and learn to love someone like Nensala--someone cut off from the importance of dreams, who strove only to serve him and nothing more. Ahkmenrah dreaded when that day would come, but a part of him knew it would be inevitable. A king needed his queen…

Set lunged forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into another hug as she thanked him more profusely than she had before. There were tears of joy in her eyes when she pulled away, she wiped at them sloppily and gauged him with a new concern, easily reading the heartache on his features.

“You should find her.”

“Who?” He knew already, but still he asked.

“Nouke. It’s possible she could be longing for you somewhere out there as well.”

Setshepsut gave his hands a squeeze again, and Ahkmenrah felt the threat of tears prickle his eyes, but his were not ones of joy.

“Nouke knew a long time ago our paths would always be split: the pharaoh, and the servant…”

Set kissed the back of his hand sweetly, in an act he knew meant she didn’t want him to give up so easily.

“It’s not so strange—the queen and the soldier. Unlikely, but titles don’t define us. You are both more and less than a pharaoh, as she is both more and less than a servant. Mostly, we're all just flesh.”

She left him with another chaste kiss to his cheek, and to ponder her wisdom, which is exactly what he did.

Next Chapter-> Chapter Six: Divided