Usurper's Rise

The desert air carried the scent of the Nile, thick with the warmth of morning, yet within the palace walls, the cool stone chambers were alive with the murmurs of servants preparing for the morning's rituals, gold and alabaster gleaming under the first light of Ra's blessing. The cool marble floors hummed beneath Neferet's bare feet as she moved, blade in hand, breath steady.

The training courtyard was bathed in the golden light of dawn, shadows stretching long against the sandstone walls, and at its center stood Commander Seti-her mentor, her protector, the only man who knew the truth of what she could become.

He watched her with that unreadable expression, arms crossed over his broad chest, the muscles beneath his tanned skin shifting as he adjusted his stance. His build was the kind sculpted by war-tall, powerful, but controlled. Scars lined his forearms, faded reminders of battles fought beyond the borders of Egypt, yet it was his eyes that held the true weight of his experience, dark and keen, always watching and measuring.

Neferet lunged, her curved khopesh slicing through the air, but Seti anticipated the move before she had fully committed to it. In one fluid motion, he stepped aside, caught her wrist, and twisted, sending the blade clattering onto the sun-warmed stone. He moved fast-too fast. By the time she blinked, she was already caged between his arms, her back pressing against the cool wall of the courtyard.

"You hesitate," Seti murmured, his voice low, roughened by years of command.

Neferet exhaled sharply, chest rising and falling with exertion. "I do not."

Seti smirked, tilting his head as if considering. "No?" His grip on her wrist loosened, but he did not step back. Instead, his fingers traced the curve of her palm, calloused yet deliberate. "Then perhaps you merely enjoy losing to me."

Neferet scoffed, pushing against his chest, though her touch lingered longer than necessary. "I let you win."

Seti's laughter was quiet, teasing, the sound curling around her like a challenge. "Is that what you tell yourself?"

She narrowed her eyes, tilting her chin in mock defiance. "Yes, and next time, I'll prove it."

Seti leaned in slightly, enough for her to feel the warmth radiating from his skin, enough for his breath to ghost against her cheek as he murmured, "I look forward to it, Princess."

For a moment, the world shrank to just the space between them, the heat of the morning sun nothing compared to the fire dancing beneath her skin. Neferet knew this was dangerous, knew that if they were caught, Seti would suffer for it far more than she would. And yet, she could not bring herself to move away.

Then, with a smirk, she abruptly lifted her knee-not enough to hurt, but enough to throw him off balance.

Seti grunted in surprise as he stumbled back, and before he could recover, Neferet darted forward, swiping his legs from beneath him with a graceful twist of her own. He hit the ground with a muted thud, blinking up at her, half amused, half impressed.

Neferet grinned, standing over him. "And now, you are dead."

Seti groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "I see, first you let me win, and now, you cheat."

"Not cheating," Neferet corrected, offering him her hand. "Just thinking when I should act."

Seti chuckled, taking her hand, but instead of pulling himself up, he tugged her forward, sending her stumbling into his chest. For a moment, she forgot to breathe, her palms pressed against the warmth of his bare skin, his arms steadying her, holding her close.

"A dangerous game you play, Neferet," he murmured, his voice softer now, his fingers barely grazing the small of her back.

Neferet swallowed, her heart hammering against her ribs. "I like danger."

Seti exhaled a quiet laugh, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch lingering at her temple. "That much is clear."

The moment stretched, tension thickening between them, and then-

"Training again?"

The voice cut through the warmth like a blade against stone.

Neferet tensed, stepping away as she turned to find Rahotep standing beneath the marble archway, arms crossed.

He was everything a warrior should be-broad shoulders, arms carved by battle, a stance that spoke of discipline honed through blood and sweat. His skin, a shade darker than Seti's, bore the faintest sheen of oil from his own morning drills, but where Seti moved with quiet certainty, Rahotep carried himself with a strain that never fully left him. His eyes-dark, indescribable-lingered on her, cold as always.

Neferet tilted her chin, meeting his gaze with one of her own. "You disapprove?"

Rahotep scoffed, stepping forward, his movements measured, as if every action was weighed before execution. "A princess wielding a blade? The court will have much to say about it."

"The court has much to say about everything," she countered smoothly, watching for the twitch of irritation that briefly crossed his face. "I hardly see why their whispers should concern you, unless you fear them yourself?"

Seti, silent beside her, exhaled through his nose, the barest shake of his head warning her not to provoke.

But Rahotep only smirked. "You mistake me, Princess," he murmured, voice laced with something that was neither anger nor amusement, but something else entirely, "I do not fear whispers-I listen to them."

And then, just like that, he was gone, his departure as deliberate as his arrival, leaving behind an unease that settled thick in the air.

Neferet clenched her fingers, resisting the urge to sigh. "He grows bolder."

Seti watched Rahotep's retreating figure before finally turning back to her. "He grows tired of being overlooked."

---

The Pharaoh's throne room was a monument to power, where every surface gleamed with the weight of divinity. Gold inlays wove complex stories along the walls, depicting gods walking among men, the great deeds of Pharaohs long past. But despite its grandeur, the air was thick with an aura heavier than incense, something unspoken, lurking in the silence between words.

Pharaoh Amenemhat sat upon his throne, his frame still imposing despite the weight of years beginning to settle upon his shoulders. His once-powerful physique had softened, but his presence had not. His skin was deep bronze, lined with age, his jaw strong, though the hollows beneath his eyes betrayed exhaustion. He wore the double crown of Egypt with the ease of a man born to rule, but as Neferet stepped forward, she did not miss the way his fingers tightened slightly on the gilded armrest.

And at his side, draped in white linen embroidered with gold, stood Menkaura, the High Priest of Amun.

His presence was a quiet storm, his face still beneath the shadow of his headdress. Where the Pharaoh commanded with strength, Menkaura ruled through silent utterances, his influence stretching beyond the palace walls, weaving through the temples, the noble houses, the hearts of the people. His skin was paler than most, his frame lean but unbending, and when his gaze settled upon her, it was with the weight of a thousand unspoken truths.

Neferet halted before them, bowing low. "Father."

Amenemhat studied her for a moment longer than necessary before he spoke. "You train before the gods awaken?"

She straightened, keeping her expression carefully neutral. "I train before Egypt does, Father."

A shade of something-pride, perhaps-crossed his features before it vanished.

Menkaura's voice was as smooth as polished stone. "Discipline is admirable, Princess, yet some may say there are greater duties for the heir to the throne."

Neferet smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. "I was under the impression that protecting the kingdom was among them."

A sound-soft, almost amused-escaped Rahotep, who stood just off to the side, watching the exchange. He said nothing, but his presence alone spoke volumes.

The Pharaoh exhaled, shifting slightly. "There are rumors."

Neferet stilled.

Rahotep stepped forward. "The soldiers speak of unrest beyond the river and insubordination surrounding the shipments."

Seti tensed beside her.

And then the Pharaoh said the words that sent ice through her veins.

"And the temple has warned of a great shift in power."

The silence that followed was deafening.

A shift in power.

Neferet did not look at Menkaura, but she felt his gaze, heavy, assessing. Rahotep's eyes shone with an unsettling look. Seti's hand twitched at his side.

Something was coming.

Something none of them were prepared for. In that moment, Neferet understood her world would never be the same.