Lion in the Court

Palace - The Throne Room

Meanwhile, in the palace, Pharaoh Rameses sat on his throne with General Horus at his side, locked in a routine meeting with the regional nobles—men responsible for keeping order and enforcing law throughout Egypt.

These meetings occurred every few days, and while often tedious, they were necessary to maintain balance across the kingdom.

Usually, the nobles were cautious. Careful with their words. Measured in tone.

But today… Something was different.

They were bolder.

Arrogant.

Foolish.

Perhaps it was because from a strained conversation with Jade that left him feeling more unsettled than he cared to admit the night before.

Or maybe it was the growing unrest inside him after hearing she had thrown herself into the Nile to save a child—reckless, selfless, and very nearly fatal.

The image of her throwing and hurting herself haunted him more than he let on.

Or perhaps it was because these men had forgotten who he was.

He barely concealed his irritation as he sat in silence, the Vizier stepping forward to begin.

"All the Lords are present for their regional reports, my King," the vizier said, bowing low at a respectful angle.

Rameses gave a single nod.

"Then let us begin."

Hours passed.

The meeting dragged on through updates, complaints, and the same recycled rhetoric.

He was just beginning to believe they might get through the day without testing his patience—until one nobleman from Luxor cleared his throat and dared to speak out of turn.

"My King," he began, "before we conclude… word has reached us—just this morning, in fact—of a remarkable event."

Rameses said nothing, though his gaze darkened slightly.

"A foreign woman," the noble continued carefully, "saved a child from drowning in the Nile. Not only that, but—according to dozens of witnesses—she brought the child back from death itself."

More murmurs followed.

"They say she performed the act with nothing but her own hands and breath," another added. "The streets are already filled with chants. Many claim she is a goddess. A divine one sent by the gods."

The noble paused, glancing nervously toward the throne.

"This woman," he added delicately, "is she… the same foreigner who resides in the palace?"

That was the moment.

The one they thought they could handle delicately.

But then—as always—someone got bold.

"We mean no disrespect, of course," said the noble from Aswan, voice tightening.

"But the people are easily fooled by spectacle. A woman pulling stunts in public to gain favor is not fit to stand beside the Pharaoh."

Whispers stirred.

Another added quickly, "Lady Kiya has been devastated by this, my King. She's cried for hours if not days. It's a disgrace to see her replaced so… suddenly."

A third stepped forward now, emboldened by the momentum.

"We come not only to raise concern, but to deliver a formal petition that this woman be banned from entering the palace—perhaps even from setting foot in Egypt again!"

More voices echoed in agreement.

"She is unfit!"

"She dishonors Lady Kiya!

"She manipulates the King!"

"Imprison her, my King!"

"Imprison her!"

Vizier Khaemwaset raised his hand, shouting over the noise.

"Enough!" His voice rang across the room.

"You forget yourselves!"

He glanced toward Rameses—expecting to see disinterest. Indifference.

The Pharaoh, after all, had never been moved by women before.

Many had come and gone.

Some had even been discarded with cold efficiency.

But what he saw instead made his blood run cold.

Rameses' expression was still—but his eyes…

His eyes could kill.

A deadly pressure filled the room.

The air thickened.

Every man present felt it—like the weight of judgment from something ancient and cruel.

And then, in a voice so cold it silenced the breath in every chest, Rameses said:

"You dare."

Every noble froze.

His voice cut deeper than a blade. His presence filled the room like a rising storm.

"You must not value your lives," he continued, rising from his throne, "to speak so freely about my woman."

The nobles started, stunned.

"She is your only future Queen," he finished, venom behind every syllable.

The noble from Aswan—shaking now—still had the gall to speak.

"B-but, my King… what about my niece, Lady Kiya?! You cast her aside for some foreign harlot?! You'd toss aside your people for someone you barely know?! Just like the others before her?!"

The room held its breath.

Some of the nobles turned away, already mourning this man's life.

Others looked down, trembling.

The temperature dropped.

Rameses stepped forward, and the ground seemed to tremble beneath his feet.

His voice dropped to a whisper.

"Corpses don't talk nonsense."

The noble stumbled back—too late.

In a blur of movement, Rameses drew his khopesh and struck.

One clean, merciless slice.

The man collapsed to the floor, choking on blood, eyes wide in shock.

Rameses didn't flinch.

He grabbed the dying noble by the hair, lifted his head, and leaned in, his voice low and venomous.

"No one speaks of my woman like that, no one" he hissed.

The noble's eyes widened in terror—then dimmed, the light fading as his last breath escaped.

Then he dropped him like refuse.

The corpse slammed into a priceless column, cracking stone and splattering the floor with blood.

Silence.

The room reeked of iron and fear.

Rameses turned, blood still staining his hand, and stared at the others with a calm, emotionless expression.

"So…" he said quietly.

"Who's next?"

No one answered. No one dared.

Some nobles lowered their eyes, unable to meet his gaze. Others stood frozen, their mouths dry with fear.

Satisfied, the Pharaoh turned and walked out of the throne room—his face, hands, and khopesh still stained with blood.