Princess, Crown Not Included

The rites of Hathor had finished hours ago, but still Atem could not get them out of his mind. The chanting he could deal with (indeed, one or two of the chants he was rather fond of), and the ceremonial drums and flutes were actually pretty nice to listen to. But it had been hell on Earth to have Astarte that close and not be able to touch her. Every second he had been around her, he had wanted to pull her close to him, to feel her warm breath on his neck, to show her what a Pharaoh's kiss felt like...

For what seemed like the hundreth time that day, he shook himself awake from his mind's warped fantasies. It wasn't right, and it wasn't going to happen. In a vain effort to distract himself, he started up a game of sennet with one of the guards, but was so engrossed in thinking about Her, he lost five games in a row before eventually giving up and declaring he was going out for a walk alone.

Before anyone could stop him, he was up and out of the room, into the stables. Jumping onto Tarik, his white desert stallion, he spurred him on and rode west out of the city. There was only one person he felt he could talk to.

This was when he felt like he was truly free: on Tarik's back. The wind pulled his hair back from his face, whistled in his ears, all there was was him and the sky. He passed the city borders, riding on with determination written into his face like stone. He needed to do this, should have done it a long time ago. He was going to the Valley of The Kings.

He hadn't been here since the official burial, the ceremony that half of Egypt had been witness to. A fine son he'd been. Not even able to visit his own father's tomb.

Out of respect, he stopped his horse and dismouted at the edge of the valley, continuing on foot. He trod throgh the sand carefully, wary of scorpions or scarabs, arriving eventually at the most recently closed tomb.

"Hey..." The young pharaoh approached his father's tomb, his steps unsure, his thoughts even more so. "It's me, father... Sorry I took so long in coming."

He couldn't enter: breaking the seals on the door would release spirits and curses placed to deter thieves. So he sat down in the shadows, his back against the cool stone. He tilted his head back till it rested against the wall, his eyes closed against the glare of the sun.

"Its so quiet here...." Atem mused aloud to the horse. It had always seemed that they understood each other, and he knew that the white stallion missed Akhenamkhanen as much as the old Pharaoh's son himself. "Father would hate it if he was alive, Tarik... he always loved things to be loud, full of life..." At last, after almost a year since he'd last visited this place, tears began to prick at Atem's eyelids, and he let them out shamelessly, his sobs echoing around the valley. The silver drops fell thick and fast, not only for his father,but for himself and for all fo Egypt. "I'm so scared, father... I'll never be a great ruler like you! I'm going to lead Egypt right into oblivion, and it'll be all my fault... why did you have to leave me?!" Atem thought the tears would never stop. Twelve month's worth of pain and anger had broken the walls that he had worked so hard to build up. But even twelve months ends sometime. After what seemed to be a lifetime, his eyes dried. He felt more peaceful than he had for a year.

"I love you, Father." A gust of a breeze carried his words away, but the echo brought them back to him like a reply, and he smiled to himself.

He had finally let go.