Chapter ~ Sweetness Turned Bitter

The golden bars shimmered under the flickering torchlight, casting elongated shadows across the polished marble. The cage was spacious, adorned with silken cushions and embroidered throws—a mockery of comfort. A palace fit for a pet.

Nofri-it sat still, his arms resting limply at his sides, the weight of his golden shackles pressing into his skin. He had been given no water, no food, only the silence of the great hall and the heavy presence of Azech-I on his throne.

A game of endurance.

The guards had long since withdrawn, leaving only the Pharaoh and his captive in the dimly lit chamber. Azech-I leaned back against the cushioned seat of his throne, one hand lazily draped over the armrest, fingers tapping an absent rhythm.

Minutes passed.

Hours.

Neither of them spoke.

But Nofri-it knew the game.

Azech-I wanted him to break the silence first.

He wanted Nofri-it to plead, to question, to react.

You will not have it, Nofri-it thought, his gaze fixed on the stone floor beneath him.

"You were once a man of great pride," Azech-I finally murmured, voice slow, deliberate. "Have you lost that too?"

The words slithered into the quiet, but Nofri-it did not respond.

He had nothing left to say.

Azech-I sighed as though he had expected as much. He stood, the rustle of his robes breaking the hush of the room. The sound of his footsteps echoed across the chamber as he approached the cage.

Then—

The scrape of metal.

A small dish was pushed through the bars, filled with pomegranate seeds glistening like rubies under the torchlight.

Nofri-it did not move.

"Eat," Azech-I commanded.

Silence.

A pause.

Then—Azech-I crouched before the cage, his golden eyes sharp, studying Nofri-it the way a hunter studies his prey. "You will waste away if you continue this stubbornness."

Another long stretch of silence.

Nofri-it refused to meet his gaze.

Azech-I exhaled, his amusement laced with something darker.

Then, suddenly—

A sharp hand grasped Nofri-it's chin, tilting his face upward.

The touch was not rough, but firm. Possessive.

"Look at me," Azech-I commanded.

Nofri-it clenched his jaw but obeyed.

Their eyes met.

A flicker of something passed between them.

A memory. A ghost of a past they no longer had.

Azech-I's grip lingered for a moment longer before he pulled away.

Then, he took a single pomegranate seed, pressing it to his lips. Slowly, deliberately, he bit into it, the crimson juice staining his mouth like blood.

Nofri-it watched.

He hated himself for watching.

For remembering.

Five Years Ago...

The taste of pomegranate had been sweet, sticky on his tongue as Azech-I had fed him in the moonlit chamber.

"You're a fool," Nofri-it had whispered, fingers ghosting over the sharp planes of Azech-I's face.

"And you are my fool," Azech-I had murmured back, pressing a fruit-stained kiss to Nofri-it's lips.

Laughter had curled between them, tangled in the sheets, in the warmth of bodies too close, too dangerous.

A moment of peace before the world shattered.

Present Day...

The taste of pomegranate had long since turned bitter.

Azech-I wiped the red stain from his lips with a flick of his thumb, eyes still locked onto Nofri-it's. "Eat," he repeated, softer this time.

Nofri-it did not move.

Azech-I studied him, the quiet between them stretching unbearably thin.

Then, with a knowing smirk, he stood. "Very well," he said, turning away.

"I will enjoy watching you starve."

The chamber doors closed behind him.

And Nofri-it was alone once more.

The doors had closed, but his presence lingered.

The scent of myrrh and cedar. The whisper of his robes against stone. The warmth of his fingers, still ghosting over Nofri-it's chin, where they had grasped him just moments ago.

Nofri-it exhaled shakily, the sound barely audible in the cavernous chamber. He had long since mastered the art of silence, the skill of swallowing pain without a sound.

But the weight of the past pressed down like the heat of the desert sun.

He glanced at the untouched dish of pomegranate seeds. The crimson pearls glowed temptingly in the dim torchlight, a stark contrast against the polished gold of the plate.

Hunger gnawed at his insides.

He had not eaten since his arrival.

Since he had been dragged—half-dead, half-forgotten—from the darkness of Pharaoh Cairo's dungeons and placed at Azech-I's feet like a discarded relic.

The pomegranate was a test.

A game.

If he ate, he yielded.

If he refused, he suffered.

Azech-I knew him too well.

He wants me to remember.

To recall the nights in Thebes when Azech-I's hands had not been cruel. When his lips had not tasted of war and vengeance, but of honeyed wine and whispered oaths.

The echoes of the past curled around him like a serpent, coiling tighter with every breath.

Five Years Ago...

The grand chamber was bathed in moonlight, the cool night air carrying the distant hum of lyres and drumbeats from the palace below.

Azech-I lounged beside him on the terrace, his golden skin aglow beneath the starlit sky. In his hand, he held a split pomegranate, its juice staining his fingertips.

"Do you know what this fruit represents?" he asked, his voice thick with amusement.

Nofri-it, still breathless from their last heated embrace, raised a brow. "Enlighten me, Pharaoh."

Azech-I chuckled, plucking a seed and pressing it to Nofri-it's lips. "Fate. Binding. A choice that cannot be undone."

Nofri-it parted his lips, letting Azech-I push the fruit past them, the taste bursting sweet and tart on his tongue.

Azech-I leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Eat too many, and you will belong to me forever."

Nofri-it smirked, tilting his head back against the silk cushions. "And if I do?"

Azech-I's eyes darkened, the golden hue nearly molten. "Then there will be no escape, Nofri-it."

Present Day...

The silence of the throne chamber was absolute.

Nofri-it clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms.

He had eaten the fruit that night.

Seven seeds.

Seven promises.

And yet, in the end, he had disappeared.

Taken.

Forgotten.

Azech-I's cruelty now was not simply revenge.

It was retribution for what had been lost.

For what had been stolen.

A slow, deliberate torment that would unravel him piece by piece.

Nofri-it turned his gaze away from the pomegranate plate, curling against the silken cushions in his gilded cage.

He would not break.

Not yet.

But he did not know how long he could last.

Because Azech-I was not merely trying to punish him.

He was trying to make him remember.