The Lost Egyptian Queen

I ran as fast and far as I could through the woods, weaving and leaping through the brush, until I was sure that my Maker's murders were not following me. It was by a stream that I finally collapsed into the dirt, my hair, which had previously been pinned back, now falling in long, dark tendrils in front of my face. I stayed still for a while, my sensitive hearing straining for any snap of a twig or gust of movement. Once I was sure I would be left alone, my thoughts turned to other things.

Where would I go? I was still learning, still fully dependent on Mursilis and his wisdom. This was a strange land, with foreign customs and rules, and by being the progeny of a trader I was thus deemed a trader as well, leaving me completely friendless. I was completely alone.

This heavy realization caused tears to prick at my eyes, before the further realization that I was completely lost brought them out at full force. I collapsed further onto the ground and allowed fear fueled sobs to wrack my body for a time unbeknownst to me. I only know that when they finally stopped, my face and the ground beneath it were completely covered in blood.

I slowly sat upright and let out a slow sigh to try to compose myself. If I were to survive, I would have to keep my wits about me. I stood from the ground and walked over to the stream and, looking down into the softly flowing water, caught my reflection. I shook my head at myself, looking at my dirty tunic, loose, knotted hair, and bloody, dirt streaked face. I crouched down and cupped some water into my hands, first washing the grime from them before splashing some onto my face and doing the same for it. Once satisfied that it was clean, I used my tunic to pat it dry before moving onto my hair.

I dragged my fingers through the long strands, trying my best to get out any knots, before pulling it back and twisting it into one long braid. Once all was said and done, I stood up straight and looked back down into my reflection, nodding approvingly.

"You were once a great queen of the greatest kingdom in all of the lands," I spoke to my reflection in a strict tone, "now act like it."
And with that, I began to walk on.

I followed the stream north, walking for what felt like days but in reality had only been a few hours, before finally reaching civilization. Well, at least a part of it, for in reality it was only a decently sized Villa and a small slave house on a plot of land. But, day light was fast approaching, so it would have to do.

I began searching around for a decent sleeping hole to hide from the sun, looking for a crawl space under the Villa or a small storage space I could cram into. But before rounding one of the sides of the Villa, I stopped dead in my tracks, for the metallic smell of blood was hanging heavily in the air. Yet, it wasn't human blood...

I slowly poked my head around the corner to investigate while being careful not to be seen. Candle light was streaming out from the back entrance of the Villa and onto the patio, the patio furniture was toppled over, and many of the plants in the walking garden were trampled, all telling of signs of a struggle. Yet, there was no one to be seen. That was, until a shadow was cast upon the patio from the doorway. It appeared to belong to a man, with short hair and a stocky build. I froze for a moment, fear coursing through me as he stood motionless in the doorway. I began to creep backwards, preparing to run before I was found out, but my sandal kicked a pebble, causing it to jump against the side of the Villa with a light knock. I cursed myself in my head before turning to bolt, but I was stopped my a hand around my wrist pulling me back, and before I knew it I was being pinned against the Villa wall.

I screeched into the hand against my mouth and froze, my eyes locked onto my attacker's.
"Who are you? What do you want?" He hissed, his fangs dropping down, spurring me to begin to fight back, yet I stopped when I realized that more than anything threatening there was fear in his voice. It was then that I noticed his face.

Chiseled yet soft and youthful, with soft brown eyes and light brown hair, this was not the face of a threatening vampire man, but a young boy turned vampire. And he was frightened.
Instead of counter attacking, which at this point I was sure I could, for I could feel he was made well after myself, I placed my hand over the one he held against my mouth and slowly pried it away.

"I am not here to hurt you," I assured him, holding his gaze steadily with my own. His brows furrowed but nothing else on his face changed.

"That's what everyone says, but it's never true. I don't want trouble, mulier. I just want to leave this place. He was a horrid man, he deserved it. I don't deserve to die for it," he continued to ramble before I could finally stop him with a soft sushing noise.

"Child, if I wanted to hurt you I could have by now, especially so while you were rambling away like that. Now," I grabbed him by his biceps and, just as suspected, easily moved him away from me, "let me help you. Who was horrid? Why would someone want to hurt you?"

The boy searched my face for a little, a look of confusion on his own. I suspected he was not used to being helped, only hurt, and in all honesty, it prodded at the little heart I had left.
He finally decided that either I was truly not going to hurt him, or it no longer mattered, and gestured for me to follow him.

He walked around the back of the Villa, and I hesitated for only a moment before following him. I rounded the corner and walked behind him through the back door into a large, lavishly decorated bathing room. This room was in even worse shape than the patio, vases laid broken on the floor, water was sloshed out everywhere, and blood stained the Eastern wall. I followed the trail with my eyes down the wall, across the floor, and into the large pool of water situated at the center of the room. There, floating on top of the steaming water, were the remains of a vampire.

I turned to the boy with widened eyes but said nothing as he walked to the edge of the bath and looked down at the remains, a look of pure and utter hatred flashing in his eyes.

"Who... Who was that?" I asked, trying to remain as calm as possible, like how one does when trying to gain the trust of a rowdy stallion.

"It was my Maker," the boy replied before spitting into the pool and muttering a hateful, "Diabolus."