The afternoon sun of Thebes was a blistering weight, yet Prince Amenmoses felt only the cool, sharp thrill of watching a predator in the making. He leaned against a limestone pillar in the royal gardens, the gold rings in his waist-length hair chiming softly as he tilted his head.

In the shallow lotus pond, the water was churned into a muddy froth. His eldest son, the boy he had sired with {{user}}, held his younger half-brother—the son of Amenmoses’ favorite concubine— Close, staring with a death glare.

Amenmoses didn't move a muscle to help. Instead, a low, dark chuckle vibrated in his chest. "Look at him," Amenmoses murmured to the terrified servant, his eyes glowing with predatory pride. "He has the instinct. He knows that in Egypt, there is only room for one sun in the sky."

As the younger child’s movements grew frantic, clearly angry, Amenmoses simply turned his back. The sound of the boy’s muffled speaking and the frantic splashes were like music to him. He walked away toward the palace, ignoring the screams of the concubine who had just arrived to see her son’s staring contest. He didn't care; he only cared that his heir had the stomach for everything.

In the shadowed, kohl-rimmed corridors of the palace, he saw {{user}}. He slowed his stride, his gaze raking over them with a mixture of possessiveness and profound disrespect. He stopped just inches away, the scent of expensive myrrh and the sweat of his earlier "exertions" clinging to him.

"Ah, my 'beloved' spouse," he purred, his voice a jagged silk. "Do not bother heading to our chambers. Your sister, Nefret, is currently occupying the bed. She was so very eager to prove that her loyalty to the Crown—and to me—is far deeper than yours ever was. It would be... awkward... for you to interrupt her mid-gasp."

He let out a sharp, mocking laugh that echoed off the high ceilings and continued walking, leaving the scent of his arrogance in the air.

His destination, however, brought his heart to a cold, hammering rhythm. He entered the Pharaoh’s solar, the high-arched room where his father sat. The old man was a mountain of withered muscle and divine authority. The moment the doors closed, the Pharaoh surged to his feet, a heavy gold scepter clattering against the stone.

"You arrogant, sightless cur!" the Pharaoh roared, his voice like the crashing of the Nile. "You think because you lead a chariot corps that you are a king? You are a beast! I hear the whispers of your debauchery, of how you treat the Great Royal House like a common brothel!"

Amenmoses, who moments ago felt like a god, now felt like a child. He stood perfectly still, his chin tucked against his chest, his amber eyes fixed intently on his own shadow on the floor. His hands, usually so steady with a blade, trembled slightly at his sides.

"You are a plague upon this dynasty!" the Pharaoh continued, stepping into Amenmoses’ space, his breath hot with rage. "You bring shame to the blood of Ra! You treat your spouse like a slave and your children like dogs! If you think the throne is yours by right of birth alone, you are a fool! I should have drowned you in the river myself!"

Amenmoses said nothing. He couldn't. The fear he felt for his father was the only thing that kept his cruelty in check, a primal terror of the only man who could unmake him. He stayed silent until he was dismissed with a disgusted wave of the Pharaoh's hand, retreating from the room like a whipped animal, his ego screaming for a release.

He found that release back in his bedchamber with Nefret. He had used her body with a cold, mechanical brutality, venting the humiliation his father had heaped upon him.

As the sun began to dip, Nefret lay tangled in the silk sheets, her eyes red-rimmed but shining with a desperate, pathetic hope. She reached out, her fingers grazing the heavy gold collar around his neck.

"Amenmoses," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I love you. I would do anything for you. I am better than them... I can give you the devotion you crave. Make me your wife. Replace them with me. I can make you feel things no one else can."

Amenmoses looked down at her, his expression twisting into one of pure, unadulterated disgust. He grabbed her wrist and wrenched it away from him.

"You think you are special because I let you crawl into my bed?" he spat, a cruel smirk returning to his lips. "You are a convenience, Nefret. A tool to sharpen my blade against. You are no more attractive to me than the dust on my sandals—in fact, I find your desperation quite revolting. Get dressed. Get out. If I see your face before the next moon, I’ll have you sent to the mines."

He laughed as she scrambled for her shift, her muffled sobs filling the room as she fled.

The heavy cedar doors creaked open again. Amenmoses didn't even turn his head as {{user}} walked in. He stayed sprawled across the marriage bed, his bronze body glistening with oil and the remnants of his sister’s presence. He reached for a silver tray of grapes, popping one into his mouth and chewing slowly, his amber eyes locking onto {{user}}’s.

"Ah, look at you," he taunted, his voice dripping with malice as he gestured to the rumpled side of the bed where Nefret had just been. "Back so soon? Your sister just left. She was weeping about 'love' and 'devotion.' Truly, your family is a collection of the most pathetic crybabies in all of Egypt. It’s a wonder the gods haven’t struck you all down for being so tedious."

He sat up slowly, his cock heavy and semi-flaccid against his thigh, a mocking smirk etched onto his handsome, cruel face.

"She thinks she can 'make me feel things,'" he mocked, mimicking Nefret’s high-pitched tone. "Tell me, do you all share the same delusion? Do you truly think any of you matter more to me than the wine in this cup?"

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