Ahkmenrah: The Fourth King of the Fourth Kings

Chapter 62: Love and Hurt

Kahmunrah awoke to his brother's sleeping face. He knew what it felt like waking up to the face of someone you care about having taken many lovers to his bed in the last five years alone. But this felt different, this reminded him of his childhood days when they used to sleep in the same bad. He gave his rare lovely smile before softly removing his arm from under Ahkmenrah's head.

He hastily washed his face and headed outside.

He walked around aimlessly for a while, until a clear feminine voice called out to him.

"Kahmun!"

He turned to see Sabra sword around her waist, scroll in hand.

"Good morning Sabra." He answered good-naturedly.

"It's hard to tell whether it's morning or not this place."

"That is quite true."

"How is Ahk?"

Kahmunrah gave a smile, despite all his masculine bravado; he was a slight romantic, he desperately wanted Sabra and Ahk to be together. All logical reasons aside (that being he and Ismara could love freely) he just wanted to see his little brother happy in a relationship, though he hoped it wouldn't detract too much of their time together. (A/N: Looks like Kahmunrah found his OTP)

"Ahk is fine...he's sleeping. He should wake up soon. Why do you ask?"

The corners of Sabra's lips turned upwards. "Nothing really, but the horses need some exercise, and the cavalry needs training. I know it's not his job to lead it, but he's the best horseman we have."

"Maybe you should go wake him up." Suggested Kahmunrah.

"Maybe." Then her face turned serious, then she turned around to check whether anyone was spying upon them. "Your mother wanted to talk to you, it's about Ismara."

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Kahmunrah stood before his mother with a guilty expression on his face. Shepsehret had seen this expression before; when she had first found out he had lost his innocence to a serving maid at the age of fourteen.

But the anger of his most recent act had been bottled inside her for too long. When emotions aren't let out, they fester and become worse and worse like an infecting wound. This anger, when she first found out about Ismara, was a small scar, but over time as she left it unchecked it grew worse and worse.

So much so that one long look at Kahmunrah, she raised her hand and sent an almighty blow against his cheek. Kahmunrah took it rather stoically, standing his ground head bent in shame.

"Did I raise you to be like this?!" she cried. "Did I raise you only to be the downfall of your father's legacy?! Have you no respect for women?!"

Kahmunrah's head remained bent, his pale cheeks flushed with feverish shame, his left cheek burning from shame.

"I was going to mention the other day, but Ahkmenrah was there. I doubt you told him, you didn't even tell your own mother. Just because your father is gone does not mean you frolic around in a more whorish manner! What's worse her honor will be defamed, and the child will be pronounced a bastard!"

"We married." He mumbled incoherently.

"What?"

"Ismara and I are married. We married in secret; I have the official documents, with the dates and everything. I just didn't want Ahk to know, not while it still hurt him."

Shepseheret anger died down a little, but it was replaced by annoyance.

"It will get worse, this rift, you realise that don't you? This will hurt him much more. He may never forgive you."

Kahmunrah remained silent.

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Sabra's blue eyes glittered with excitement after she had explained the plan to the fifteen young men and women. It was simple, hide and wait for the caravans then ambush. Sabra found, the more complicated a plan was the more of a chance it has to be foiled. A lesson Khufu was yet to learn.

Tchanun and Ammon's enthusiasm burned like two bright torches, glittering in the darkest of situations lighting it up like the sun. Unknown to Tchanun the boy who too shared his enthusiasm was the son of the very man who had given his life for him. But Ammon knew, and he knew very well. He was yet to know what had transpired, but he knew this was the boy who was with his father in his dying days, he wanted to know what happened, whether his father dies bravely or not. But the most important thing was he knew that Tchanun had in some way even saved the ones known as the Reverent Ten.

But there was one problem. The trauma had left Tchanun without a voice. But none the less Ammon desperately wanted to get to know Tchanun, even if it meant all their conversation had to be acted out.

There were fifteen of them in total for this mission, sixteen if you include Sabra. The air of excitement was tinged with cool blue fear, but they were ready. Anything to claim back what was rightfully theirs.

All sixteen of them were young and lithe, Tchanun understood why. This meant they were quick and stealthy, able to hide as well as the fleeting shadows. They had trained vigorously the whole, Sabra allowing part of her secrets in her skill to be revealed. The next day, for the first half they will train, the afternoon they will rest, then at night they will attack.

"Are there any questions?" asked Sabra.

There was silence.

"Good then I assume you understand. You are dismissed. Rest tonight we have a big day ahead of us."

With that they all filed out.

Ammon walked next to Tchanun, there shoulders almost touching but Tchanun didn't seem to notice. They were parting ways when Ammon called out:

"Hey! Your one of the Reverent Ten aren't you?"

Tchanun turned his head slightly before giving a nod. Ammon bounded up to face him.

"I am Ammon, son of Ammon brother-in-law to Pharaoh Merenkahra, but you can call me Ammon!" with that Ammon gave an amused grin.

The older boy, Tchanun smiled, and tried to communicate his name but was cut short by Ammon.

"I know you can't speak, don't bother, I know your name is Tchanun. I know you were with my father. I know you won't be able to tell me anything but I want you to know from this day forward you are my brother and I promise I will never leave your side, metaphorically speaking of course."

With that he gave a bow. Outwardly looking no one would have guessed what transpired in their hearts. For with this bow forged a bond between the boys, as steadfast as if they were connected by blood.

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