Chapter ~ Not As a Lover, Not As a Guest

Azech-I's fingers tightened around the fabric of Nofri-it's robes, his grip unforgiving. The flickering torchlight cast elongated shadows across the temple's ancient stone walls, stretching like twisted limbs reaching for them, as if the gods themselves bore witness to their confrontation.

For a moment, the silence between them was thick, a force of its own. The weight of five years—of betrayal, of longing, of madness—pressed between them like an invisible blade.

Nofri-it could see it in Azech-I's eyes. That controlled fury, the tempest lurking beneath his calm exterior. It was not the rage of a king scorned. No, it was something far worse.

It was personal.

Azech-I had not forgiven him.

And Nofri-it did not expect him to.

But neither had he come to beg for it.

He squared his shoulders, lifting his chin despite the way Azech-I's grip threatened to yank him forward. "What is it you want to hear, Pharaoh?" he asked, voice steady. "That I regret it? That I wish I had struck the blade into your throat that night instead of hesitating?"

The air between them tensed.

Then—

Azech-I's lips curled, the faintest smirk ghosting his face, but there was no humor in it. Only something darker, something laced with cruelty and possession. "Would you have, if you had the chance?" His voice was a whisper of silk, deadly in its softness.

Nofri-it hesitated.

And that hesitation cost him.

In an instant, Azech-I moved.

He yanked Nofri-it forward with a brutal pull, forcing him to stumble against his chest. A sharp inhale caught in Nofri-it's throat, the scent of incense and desert heat enveloping him.

He barely had time to react before Azech-I's other hand came up, rough fingers tracing the side of his jaw, tilting his face upward.

"I spent five years wondering the same thing," Azech-I murmured, his thumb ghosting over Nofri-it's lower lip in a touch so deceptively gentle it sent a shiver down his spine. "Did you hesitate because you were weak?" His grip tightened just slightly. "Or because you loved me?"

The words struck like lightning, scorching through the cold walls Nofri-it had carefully built around himself.

A second passed.

Then another.

His lips parted—whether to speak or to breathe, he did not know.

But before he could even think of a response, the past came rushing back in a flood of memory.

—

The torchlight flickered, the silk sheets tangled beneath them. Azech-I's golden cuffs pressed against Nofri-it's skin, warm, heavy, unyielding.

"You don't belong to him," Azech-I murmured, lips tracing the curve of Nofri-it's shoulder, voice hushed against the late hour. "Not anymore."

Nofri-it had turned his face away, his nails digging into the dark sheets. "And yet, my loyalty remains with him."

The words had tasted like poison on his tongue.

Azech-I had not flinched, had not looked betrayed.

He had simply leaned in, voice dropping lower. "Then why do you tremble beneath me like you were made to be mine?"

—

Nofri-it's breath hitched as he was wrenched back into the present.

Azech-I was still watching him, waiting.

Waiting for him to admit it.

To break.

But he couldn't.

He wouldn't.

So he did the only thing he could.

He met Azech-I's gaze, unyielding. And with a slow, measured breath, he whispered—

"I hesitated because I pitied you."

A lie. A dagger wielded with intent.

Azech-I's expression did not change.

But his fingers curled, the phantom touch of his thumb against Nofri-it's lips gone in an instant.

Then—

A slow exhale.

And an eerie, bone-chilling chuckle.

"Pity?" Azech-I repeated, the word dripping like honeyed venom.

Then, without warning, he shoved Nofri-it away.

Nofri-it stumbled, catching himself against one of the stone columns. His breath was sharp, but he forced himself not to appear shaken.

Azech-I's eyes gleamed in the dim torchlight, his smirk now cruel and calculating.

"Very well, Nofri-it." The way he said his name was deliberate, almost mocking. "If pity is all you have to offer me, then I shall return the favor."

His gaze darkened.

"You will spend the rest of your days in my court, just as you did," he continued, voice laced with something dangerous. "Not as a guest. Not as a lover."

A pause.

Then, with a finality that sent ice crawling down Nofri-it's spine—

"But as my caged pet."

The words echoed against the temple walls, sealing his fate.

And in that moment, Nofri-it knew.

Azech-I would not kill him.

No.

He would break him.

The silence after Azech-I's decree was suffocating, thick like the heavy desert air before a sandstorm. Nofri-it could hear the distant flickering of torches, the faint murmur of the palace beyond these sacred halls, but none of it mattered.

Not when Azech-I's words still rang in his ears.

"But as my caged pet."

The air between them had shifted, the weight of the past pressing down like the temples of old crumbling into dust. Azech-I's dark gaze pinned him where he stood, but Nofri-it refused to let the sharp edges of humiliation show on his face.

Yet, inside, something cracked.

Had he truly believed Azech-I's hatred had cooled with time? That five years of searching had been fueled by anything other than vengeance?

How foolish.

Even more foolish was the way his body still remembered the way Azech-I's touch once felt—how he had whispered his name like a secret, how their nights had once been filled with something other than war.

But that was the past.

The man standing before him now was no longer the lover who had traced the constellations on his skin with reverent fingers.

This was Azech-I, Pharaoh of Thebes.

A conqueror.

A god among men.

And he was here to see him suffer.

A sharp breath passed Nofri-it's lips, though he masked it with a dry chuckle. "Caged pet?" he echoed, tilting his head, feigning amusement. "I was once your lover, and now I am to be reduced to a spectacle for your court?"

Azech-I did not answer at first. Instead, he stepped forward, his movements slow, deliberate. The golden cuffs on his wrists gleamed under the torchlight as his fingers brushed the stone altar beside them.

His voice, when it came, was softer than before. Too soft. "You call yourself my lover," he mused, running a hand across the rough carvings. "And yet you came to me with a dagger hidden beneath your robes."

Nofri-it did not flinch.

Not even when Azech-I's fingers lifted from the altar—trailing the invisible wounds of a betrayal that had never healed.

"You were a liar then," Azech-I continued, his gaze flickering with something unreadable. "And you are a liar now."

A heartbeat passed.

Then, suddenly, Azech-I moved.

Nofri-it barely had time to react before a firm hand grasped his chin, tilting his face upward with just enough force to remind him that he was no longer in control. The touch was not rough, but it was possessive. As if Azech-I had every intention of imprinting his dominance into his very skin.

Their breaths mingled.

For a brief, maddening moment, Nofri-it wondered if Azech-I would kiss him.

Instead, the Pharaoh's grip tightened ever so slightly, his thumb pressing against Nofri-it's lower lip in a mockery of past tenderness.

"You will remain by my side, Nofri-it," Azech-I murmured, the words laced with something deeper, something that sent a slow dread curling in Nofri-it's chest. "You will watch as I take my concubines. You will kneel at my feet as a reminder of what you lost."

His smirk deepened.

"And when the court sees the once-feared weapon of Pharaoh Cairo brought to heel, they will know—" Azech-I leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of Nofri-it's ear, voice dropping into a whisper.

"—that even the deadliest of assassins cannot escape my grasp."

Nofri-it's breath came sharp, but he did not break.

Not yet.

Instead, he smiled. A slow, almost mocking curve of his lips.

"You speak as if you have already won, Pharaoh."

Azech-I stilled.

Then, ever so slightly, his expression shifted.

And for the first time that night, Nofri-it saw it—the flicker of something dangerous.

Something uncontrolled.

A warning.

One that came too late.

Because in the next instant, Azech-I released him, stepping back as if he had already tired of the game.

His golden eyes gleamed in the dim torchlight, his verdict final.

"Take him to the Grand Court."

The words were a death sentence.

Before Nofri-it could react, guards stepped forward, their hands closing around his arms. The sudden force sent a flare of pain through his already weakened body, but he refused to show it.

Instead, he kept his gaze locked on Azech-I, his lips curving into something between defiance and amusement.

"This is your revenge?" Nofri-it taunted, allowing himself to be dragged toward the entrance. "To humiliate me like a caged animal? How petty, Azech-I."

Azech-I did not react.

He simply watched.

Like a lion watching its prey struggle.

Like a man who already knew how this story would end.

Nofri-it's pulse thrummed as the temple doors opened before him. The golden halls of Thebes lay beyond, waiting.

And so did his fate.

—

The Grand Court awaited . Again.

The Grand Court was alive with flickering torchlight and the low murmur of voices—nobles dressed in gold-trimmed linens, high priests adorned with sacred amulets, and concubines draped in sheer silks that left little to the imagination. The scent of burning myrrh coiled through the air, thick and intoxicating, blending with the underlying tension that crackled like a storm about to break.

And at the center of it all—Azech-I.

He sat atop the gilded throne, his dark kohl-lined eyes fixed on the entrance, his expression unreadable. Power radiated from him effortlessly, the golden cuffs around his wrists catching the firelight as he rested one hand lazily on the arm of his throne.

This was his domain.

And Nofri-it, dragged forward by the guards, was about to be placed on display.

A hush fell over the court as they took in the sight of him—frail, bruised, yet still carrying himself with an unbroken spine. The whispers began almost instantly.

"Is that truly the assassin of Memphis?"

"Five years in the dungeons of Pharaoh Cairo... no wonder he looks like a shadow of his former self."

"He once stood at Azech-I's side, did he not? A lover turned traitor... how pathetic."

The words slithered through the air like vipers, each one a carefully sharpened blade meant to wound.

But Nofri-it did not flinch.

Even as he was forced to his knees before the throne.

Even as golden chains were brought forth—an elaborate collar encrusted with sacred inscriptions, meant not just as a symbol of imprisonment, but as a public statement.

This was not just humiliation.

This was ownership.

The weight of it pressed against his throat as the clasp locked into place with a quiet, final click.

And still, Azech-I said nothing.

He merely watched.

And then, finally—he spoke.

"Lords of Thebes," Azech-I's voice rang out, smooth yet edged with something dark, "you see before you the man who once sought to end my life."

A ripple of tension spread through the court.

Azech-I leaned forward slightly, golden eyes glinting in the dim torchlight. "The same man who, years ago, whispered devotion in my ear as he plotted my downfall. The same man who disappeared like a coward, only to rot in the dungeons of Memphis, forgotten."

The silence stretched.

Then, Azech-I's smirk deepened.

"And now, he returns to me—" his fingers tapped idly against the arm of his throne, drawing out the moment, savoring it, "—not as a warrior. Not as an assassin. But as a caged pet."

Laughter rippled through the court.

Nofri-it remained motionless, his face an unreadable mask.

He had expected this.

Theatrics. Displays of power. Azech-I was a ruler; he knew how to command an audience, how to twist a dagger without ever lifting a hand.

And yet—beneath it all, beneath the cool, calculated cruelty—there was something else in Azech-I's gaze.

Something deeper.

Something dangerous.

"You hate me that much, Azech-I?" Nofri-it finally spoke, his voice quiet yet carrying through the chamber. "Enough to make me kneel before your court like this? Enough to parade me like some fallen creature, rather than face me alone?"

The court fell into stunned silence.

Azech-I's fingers stilled against the throne.

Then, slowly, he rose to his feet.

The movement was unhurried, almost graceful, yet it sent a shiver down Nofri-it's spine.

"Face you alone?" Azech-I echoed, stepping down from the dais, his sandals making no sound against the polished stone floor. "You speak as if you are still my equal, Nofri-it."

He stopped just before him, towering above. The golden cuffs on his wrists gleamed like shackles of their own, a mockery of the chains Nofri-it now wore.

A slow smile curled Azech-I's lips.

"You forfeited your right to face me as an equal the moment you chose betrayal over love."

The words struck harder than any chain.

And for the first time, something in Nofri-it's carefully composed mask cracked.

Just for an instant.

Azech-I saw it.

He had always known how to find his weaknesses.

And he was going to use every single one against him.

As if to drive the point further, Azech-I reached down. His fingers trailed lightly along the golden collar encircling Nofri-it's throat, his touch deceptively gentle.

A mockery of what it once was.

His voice dropped to a murmur, meant for Nofri-it alone.

"I wonder, Nofri-it..." His fingers traced the sacred carvings. "Do you regret it?"

Nofri-it exhaled slowly.

His body ached. His pride was in ruins. He had been reduced to nothing before the court of Thebes.

But regret?

No.

Because despite everything—despite the five years of agony, despite the betrayal, despite the hatred burning between them—he had still loved Azech-I once.

And some wounds never truly heal.

Lifting his chin slightly, Nofri-it met Azech-I's gaze head-on.

And he smiled.

"Do you?"

Azech-I's fingers stilled.

For a fraction of a second—too brief for anyone else to see—his expression shifted.

Then, just as quickly, the mask returned.

His hand fell away, and he turned from Nofri-it, addressing the court once more.

"He will remain in the palace, under constant watch," Azech-I declared, his tone cold and final. "He will not eat unless I permit it. He will not sleep unless I allow it. And should he dare attempt escape—"

He paused.

Then, without looking back, he uttered the final blow.

"Break him."

The guards stepped forward.

The chains tightened.

And Nofri-it knew—

This was only the beginning.