#other that blatantly flaunting that she was stealing her brother's man

[alottanothing]

Left to Ruin Chapter Six

Summary: Kahmurnah makes a decision that affects more than just his brother’s happiness. Nouke struggles with the life she finds forced upon she and her family. 

Previous Chapters

Word Count: 5209

Warnings: none

Tag List:  @xmxisxforxmaybe​, @r-ahh-mi​, @theultraviolencefan​, @hah0106​, @rami-malek-trash​, @diasimar​, @sherlollydramoine​, @flipper-kisses​, @ivy-miranda-2390​, @txmel​, @sunkissedmikky​, @concentratedsassandcandy​, @babyalienfairy​, @edteche2​ (Let me know if I missed you, or if you would like to be added to the tag list)

A/N:  This one sorta jumps backward a bit—stora a “meanwhile at the palace” while Ahk and Meren are venturing. Hopefully that’s not confusing. Also, thank you once again for the love you’ve been showing this story! It’s such a great feeling knowing others are enjoying something I’ve poured so much into. I wanna give you all hugs! 🤗🤗 Once again as a disclaimer, I am not an ancient Egyptian expert and google only knows so much. So yeah, I took so historical liberties while writing this to make my life easier, but tried to keep it as “authentic” as possible. Keep in mind that Nouke and Ahk are the same age, so at the beginning of this she’s 13 years old. 

The first few days after the prince left were the hardest. Nouke was angry; angry she'd convinced Ahk not to ask his father whether or not she could accompany him. The likeliness of the pharaoh allowing a servant girl to join the princes' adventure was slim, but she’d snuffed out the flame of hope before it could even spark. Which meant it was her fault she missed him so bad.

After two weeks, the days began to feel less empty. The atmosphere of the capital was calm; no sense of impending doom lingered without the wise ruler Merenkahre there to guide them. The queen was keeping Kahmunrah in check; or at least that was the word around the palace according to the servants. With Akhmenrah away, Nouke’s gossip all came from the women she worked with. They loved to talk, and Nouke found their stories both intriguing and ridiculous but listening to the drama helped the hours go by faster. 

Her day to day routine was the same as it had been since she’d begun her life of servitude; the only change was the amount of work she took on. Nouke encumbered herself with more work than a girl of thirteen was expected to do, she liked the distraction and how often her work bled into the evenings. Evenings were the hardest to endure with her friend away; the garden just wasn’t the same without his warmth.

Her world no longer held the same spark with Ahk away, but Nouke was glad for the routine she found with her responsibilities. Life was dull, but pleasant; at least for a time.

The sun was still high in the sky the day two brutish men ambushed her while she was hanging linens to dry. Instinctively, Nouke kicked and shouted, trying to squirm her way out of their strong grasp; her heart pounded against the walls of her chest, startled. They were not usual palace guards who had seized her, she could tell by the armor they wore. The pieces they wore were shoddy and not the golden regalia of palace guards. The men who carried her were dressed like mercenaries: Kahmunrah’s hired compatriots.

Nouke knew very little about Ahk’s older brother. He had a reputation among most of the servants as being needlessly cruel, and from how Ahkmenrah spoke of him, she knew that the eldest prince wanted nothing to do with any of his siblings. Her friend had spoken many times about wishing Kah would act like a brother to him—share a kinship. Nouke never understood why anyone would want such a man to be their sibling. 

“What have I done?” Nouke spit out, a little more harshly than she intended. “Where are you taking me?”

Her captors met her with a stone-faced silence that caused a trickle of fear to seep into her. In a flash, her mind searched through all the chores she had tended to, desperately trying to recall one she may have missed or done wrong—Am I being punished?

Without Ahk to keep her up to date on royal happenings, Nouke knew only that the pharaoh had left his eldest son in command, with the queen watching over his every move. But the queen was away too, hosting a week-long festival for the goddess Isis near the temple at the opposite end of the city; a fact Nouke was privy to only because of her mother’s closeness with the queen. 

With Shepseheret away, the only person left to bark commands was Kahmunrah. Nouke had purposely avoided the displeasure of his company, but the gnawing in her stomach told her that was about to change.

Gaining no answer from the men who drug her through the halls like a woven sack of perishables, Nouke’s fight faded, knowing her best option was submission; she had no other choice but to keep her mouth shut and obey. Even so, she kept her resolve steady; her emotional strength was the one thing she could flaunt. It gave her a way to fight back without physicality: a way to show whoever had summoned her that she would not easily be broken.

Nouke’s captors brought her through the towering doors of the throne room and stopped several paces back from where Kahmunrah sat radiating a suffocating air of lordliness. The eldest son of the pharaoh Merenkahre had adorned himself with surplus raiment; jewels sparkled off of his wide collar, bracers, belt, and rings. He was wrapped in a golden cape, decorated with the fur of a mighty beast as though to further sell the lie. Kah wore everything except the one thing that truly made him the ruler he thought himself to be—the crown.

Nouke decided quickly that there wasn’t even the smallest fraction of the man before her that reminded her of his younger brother. Everything she needed to know about Kahmunrah was there in his cold eyes and smug expression. She couldn’t help but frown at him, her eyes narrowing skeptically—how could the man before her hold any relation to her sweet prince?

Surrounding the wannabe king was a group of men who’s attire was significantly less lavish, but they collectively held a mein of power that was blatantly domineering. Their eyes weren’t as cold as Kahmunrah’s, but they looked down upon her as though the very sight of someone of her class was detestable. As for Kah, he had hardly glanced her way. He’d given her an inferior side-eye with an added sneer and nothing more. He found her presence irritating, but Nouke couldn’t help but feel the same way about him.

Just as Nouke began weighing the likelihood of making a churlish remark without reprimand, the throne room doors swung open again as two more sets of Kahmunrah’s men entered. One pair had a hold of her father, who like she had been, was kicking and trying to wrangle free. The other two had her mother, and the fear she found on her mother’s face was enough to strike a crack in her resolve.   

“I am a soldier in the pharaoh's army! I demand to know what is the meaning of all of this!” her father, Ramentukah said through bared teeth, addressing the false king.

Kahmunrah remained pompously relaxed on his throne, looking down on them as though they were insects he wanted nothing more than to crush beneath his feet. He said nothing for a long while, purposely letting Ramentukah’s question hang in the air between them as a reminder they were in no place to make demands of a member of the royal house.

His cold eyes leered as the smug simper faded into a firm line, morphing into a look of disgust. Finally, he stood, and when he spoke, his tone was condemning and dark.  

“It has come to my attention, that my brother’s prized tablet has gone missing from its temple. It is also my understanding that you—” Kahmunrah shifted his gaze to Nouke’s father. “Ramentukah, were the last soldier to stand guard at the temple doors.”

Nouke’s mouth popped open, and her narrowed eyed glare zeroed in on the eldest prince, shocked that her loyal father would even be accused of such a crime. The pharaoh Merenkahre and the Queen had always treated her family kindly. It was even the pharaoh who had given her father the opportunity to better himself by becoming a soldier instead of living his life as a farmer. Nouke knew without a doubt her father would never do anything to sully what he had achieved—especially by stealing the princes’ tablet. 

Nouke’s mother even gave Kah a look of disbelief, shaking her head, not giving in to the accusation.

Nevertheless, Ramentukah bowed respectfully. “Your Grace, I assure you I, nor my family have no involvement with this crime.”

Kah’s sneer grew more repulsed, taking her father’s denial as a challenge.

“I owe all that I have become to the pharaoh—your father. Why would I do anything to slight he or his kin? I have been a loyal, obedient soldier for many years. My wife and daughter, loyal, hard-working servants—friends to her majesty the queen and the prince. Why would I partake in a crime that would jeopardize those relationships?" Ramentukah kept his head bowed as he spoke, to show that he meant no offense, but his tone was steady and full of conviction. 

Despite all the words of logic and her father's obvious obedience, Nouke could see from the look of his callous features, that the eldest prince was still unconvinced.

“Why indeed?” he quipped with a shrug. “Yet, to me, your story seems highly suspect.”

Kahmunrah paused to think, rubbing the point of his chin until a flash of wickedness gleamed in his dark eyes.

“A crime of this caliber surely had accomplices…” his serpentine eyes moved to Maketaten and Nouke.

Suddenly, a knot twisted into Nouke’s stomach, and her throat grew tight as her heart pounded loud enough and quick enough she was certain everyone in the throne room could hear it. The anticipation and the speculation were causing her breaths to fall short as she watched Ahkmenrah’s evil brother work in his mind how best to destroy them.  

“Involvement with a thief demands a punishment equal to the severity of the culprit,” Kah grinned fiendishly. “Execution—all three of you.”

Nouke stared blankly, vision tunneling, emotions rearing to an eerie calm despite the dreadful sentence; she was frozen. Her mother, however, broke into loud sobs and quiet pleas while her father tried to reason.

“Your majesty, it was me that stood guard. If someone must be punished, let it be me. I beg of you—mercy for my family. Let Anubis judge only my soul.”

Tears were fighting to spill from Nouke’s eyes as she listened to her father plead; his willingness to die to spare them enough to make her stomach churn sickly in her gut. She wanted to scream, to fight—to fling her fists at Kahmunrah’s smug face. But doing so would surely make things worse, so she stayed quiet, drowning, and frozen in her emotion. 

Kahmunrah stood, savoring every moment as her father and mother continued to beg for their lives and the life of their daughter. She could see the glint of honest joy reflect in his eyes as her parents groveled at his feet. Nouke hated him.

Just before guards could be called to take them away, the men standing behind the false king spoke up, looking displeased.

“Enough, Kahmunrah!” an older man spoke robustly. “You’ve had your fun—you know only the queen holds the power to sanction such punishment while the Pharaoh is away.”

The frown that took hold of Kah’s lips was significant enough to shake the earth; he turned to the man who had spoken and Nouke could hear the irritation his face held.

“The queen. Is not. Here.” 

“And need we remind you. You are the discarded prince of the pharaoh; you hold no more power than we,” the same man said sternly. “Our pharaoh gave you command out of pity, not thanks, I assure you.”

All at once, the throne room was hotter than the desert sun as Kahmunrah’s anger boiled over. He shouted and argued, cursing the men who advised him, filling the nearly empty hall with malevolent words that were as sharp as knives.   

While he screamed, Nouke wanted nothing more than to run to her mother and father, but each of them were still restrained. A single tear slid down her cheek, breaching her composure, finding that it was not for herself, or her parents but for Ahkmenrah. What would he think when he returned and learned of her family’s persecution? Would he believe the rumor? Would he be glad Kah had sentenced them to death on account? Nouke shook her head—her friend would never be so cruel. He would be brokenhearted by the whole situation and the thought of his warmth being consumed with sadness almost sent another tear down her cheek.

Ahkmenrah would know neither she nor her family was involved in such lunacy; the only anger he may hold would be on account of his brother destroying innocent lives.    

An entire lifetime could have passed before Kahmunrah relented his arguing. The irritation heavily creased onto his brow lent a glimmer of hope. Had he turned to address them with delight and malice in his eyes, Nouke knew they would be killed for sure. That annoyance lingered—lips pursed tight as he toppled back into his throne, eyeing them.

“My advisors feel that the lack of evidence dictates a different form of punishment.” He said boredly. “The first involves the three of you being locked away in a cell, where you will await trial until the tablet is found, and evidence to your involvement may be denied. If you are innocent, you may return to your duties as usual. If found guilty—execution.” 

“And the second?” Ramentukah asked, voice steady.

“Banishment—effective immediately," Kah stated, just as boredly. “You will be removed from the palace grounds ensuring you will escape execution, but you will be stripped of titles and privileges you currently hold.”

Ramentukah glanced to his wife and daughter looking beaten and betrayed. He had always been proud of the ranks he’d earned and the placement he’d gained for his family; a life in the palace—even as servants—was better than a life on the streets.

“Make your decision, soldier, or it will be made for you!” Kah shouted, growing impatient.

Ramentukah glanced toward his wife and daughter, sighing out of relief, or defeat, Nouke couldn’t tell.

“Banishment, my lord. Give us banishment so that I may see my daughter grow, and so I may continue to love my wife with all my heart.”

The sentiment was lost on Kahmunrah, and his annoyance grew having been denied the prospect of executing them in the future.

“So be it,” he sneered. “And I will warn you. If any of you are discovered on palace soil again, I will personally see to it that you are given a swift execution.

With an errant wave, he instructed his men, “Remove them.”

Just as quickly as before, the men holding her by the arms pulled her through the corridors of the palace. They were given only moments to collect their things from their rudimentary quarters before being hastily escorted through the palace with weapons held behind their backs.

Nouke’s tears began to fall in earnest, in quiet streams unable to hold them at bay any longer. Her nerves were frayed—emotions a chaotic jumble in her head. Some of those tears spilled in relief: relief that she and her parents would live to see another day. And some fell as the realization she would never see her sweet prince again finally settled.

Her heart felt like a stone in her chest with that thought, and she wondered if he would miss her as much as she would miss him.

***

Nouke had never seen the capital of Waset first hand until the day her family was cast out of the palace. Most of her life was sheltered behind sturdy walls, venturing beyond them only when she and the prince would make use of their secret passageway in the West Garden. Even then, they had never dared to stray too far, at most seeing the city from a distance.

The city streets were loud and dirty and teeming with people from all walks of life. For a moment, it sparked her sense of adventure seeing sights she had only ever heard about from the merchants who came to sell their goods to the palace. Still, Nouke never strayed too far from her parents as they fell in line with the flow of foot traffic. It seemed like they walked for hours, and her feet hurt when they finally took refuge in an inn close to the city's center. 

That first night, and every night thereafter for several months she and her family stayed within the musty walls of that inn. Much of her time was spent alone in their single room while her mother and father took odd jobs to save money to purchase land with the hope to one-day farm.

Those days were the hardest. The small space was drab and dark compared to the bright, beautiful halls Nouke was used to—they seemed to mirror the sorrow she felt. Most of all she missed her friend.

Before long, Nouke said farewell to the drab walls of the inn, and home became a plot of land on the far end of the city. The high walls, golden statues, and towering columns she was used to became a structure of modest means; a dwelling constructed of mud and bricks with enough land to plant on. 

Ramentukah wasted no time in teaching Nouke and his wife how to best till the soil, calling upon teachings he’d learned in his youth. The work was hard, grueling in the desert heat, but Nouke caught on quickly. When harvest time came, her father showed them how best to bushel and bundle their crop to sell at the market, and after two bountiful harvests, their farm grew even more.

Her father hired hands to help them and even bought livestock to ensure more lucrative income. Nouke was glad for the routine of it all: the early mornings, long hours in the field, trips to the market, then early to bed for it all to begin once more come the dawn. It left her with little time to dwell on things she’d been forced to leave behind—especially the prince she would never see again.

But she did see the prince again; two times from afar and each time more heartbreaking than the last.   

The first time she saw him, Nouke had been in the market square with her father, trying to sell bushels of produce from their latest harvest out of the back of a cart. Usually, she enjoyed the clamor and the fresh faces she saw in the busy streets of Waset. They were colorful people she liked to imagine were adventurers with significant means and a head full of stories to tell her, even though most were simple common farmers like she and her father; simple people trying to make enough coin to keep food on the table. Still, the game helped the hours pass while she sat with her father, munching on the pieces of their harvest that were less likely to sell.

That morning, however, Nouke awoke with a peculiar melancholy lingering in the pit of her stomach. It was a feeling that dulled the world around her; a sadness she couldn’t quite place and all she wanted to do was stay on the farm where her usual chores offered enough distraction to steal away the poignant ache. Not even her game of making up grand tales for all the merchants could deter what she felt. Her mind instead wandered, and without really meaning to, she counted the month’s her family had been living in exile. A frown weighed on her lips, inducing more ruefulness to stir in her gut, realizing it was easier to count the years.

Two years as a commoner were not so terrible. There was a sort of freedom in their banishment but also uncertainty too. Those who worked in the palace were promised shelter and at least one meal in exchange for servitude. Nothing was promised as a farmer except longer working hours in the desert sun.

Two years. 

Two years of a lifetime under that sun and dirt under her fingernails. Two years of a lifetime praying the gods gave them bountiful crop. Two years of a lifetime away from her friend.

Nouke's frown plunged deeper, and a sigh escaped her lips. She missed her kind prince.

Just as she turned to beg her father to go back to the farm, craving the meticulous distraction that awaited her, a commotion stopped her words before they could fall past her downturned lips, drawing her attention elsewhere.

The market was always a symphony of indistinct chatter as the merchants swindled customers: chickens clucking in their cages and children screaming as they ran wildly about. All of it had become a familiar thrum Nouke was used to. The crash of drums split that normal wiring with an echoing beat Nouke easily plucked from the typical chaos. In rhythm with the drumming fell a softer sound of marching, growing louder moment by moment as the source approached.

Curiosity swelled in her stomach, devouring the melancholy ache that had plagued her all morning, and she stood on the edge of the cart, eyes darting around in search of the exciting new sound. Drums and the accompaniment of marching could only mean one thing, a parade, a royal parade.   

The last time such sounds resonated throughout the city center were the day the pharaoh and the prince returned after years away. Nouke missed that one, stuck at home working in the fields with her father and the boys they employed to help. Another parade so soon could only mean one thing; her friend now wore the crown.

She wasn’t going to let herself miss another chance to see Ahk. Nouke jumped from her father’s cart and pushed her way through the gathering crowd until she found a stoop that gave her an unhindered view of the approaching procession. Her heart was beating out a rhythm much too quick to keep in time with the methodical pulse of the drums ringing in the air; hope began to surge through her, that in her mind she knew would only make that ruefulness she felt earlier return worse than ever.

When she finally saw him, her fervent heart almost stopped completely; he was ethereal from a distance.

Ahkmenrah rode proudly in his golden chariot pulled by white stallions. His gilded raiment shimmered in the sun’s light, glittering jewels on his wesekh and belt, with a crown on his head. Her prince had become a Pharaoh—one step further from her reach. Even so, Nouke couldn’t keep from calling out to him; she wanted to let him know that, despite all that had befallen her; she was okay. She wanted to tell him how proud she was of him and that no matter the paths they tread she would always be his friend. However, amidst all the commotion, Ahk never so much as glanced in her direction.

The smile slowly faded as Nouke watched him come and go, feeling a heaviness in her heart that she’d not endured since the day she and her family were banished from the palace.

***

After four years of plowing, harvesting, and haggling at the market, Nouke’s life had never felt more normal. The youth she’d spent in the palace seemed more akin to a dream the longer time went on. She would always cherish those memories with the entirety of her heart, even if they did often make her heart feel heavy. Her time to play in the palace gardens had ended, but she never wanted to forget her friend.

The closest thing she had to that mystical garden of her childhood was the Waset city square. It was open and teeming with life, both greenery, and people. She would sit under the shade of the manicured palms or on the edge of the large fountain, reveling in the life she held. A part of her was glad for the exile wrongly given to her family. Her entire world would have been cooped up in high palace walls forever serving and never seeing.

Nouke thought seldom of her past life whenever she could spend a day at the city's center. However, when she ventured to the roof of their modest farmhouse, Nouke always let her mind wander while her eyes looked to the horizon, seeing the palace sparkling in the distance. Especially then thoughts of her youth began to tug relentlessly on her heartstrings. She’d spent countless evenings among the nest of makeshift cushions and mats she’d acquired over the years with tears in her eyes as she looked to the ever-present reminder of the friend she was forced to leave behind.

***

It had been the talk of everyone for over a week in the capital; the pharaoh would soon take a bride. The excitement was tangible from the market square all the way to the docks along the Nile, especially when the nobles began to arrive to join in on the festivities at the palace.

That week was long for Nouke. Every merchant and customer seemed more animated with the prospect of citywide celebration, but Nouke could not bring herself to share the collective elation. Nevertheless, she put on a smile anytime someone came to her and her father’s cart to make a sale speaking of the upcoming union, then her face would fall back into its perpetual frown.

Her heart ached more than she cared to admit, and though she knew it wasn’t her place to harbor such unfathomable anguish about her sweet prince marrying another; the idea ate at her every moment. Never so much as the moment, she saw him again.   

Sleep never came to her the night before the pharaoh was to take his queen; she spent every hour tossing and turning, envying her soundly sleeping parents on the opposite side of the room. Nouke felt like grieving, but she was too stubborn to let herself shed any more tears over a life she knew could never be hers. Sadness, however, was almost worse without the release of tears.

Before the sun breached the horizon, Nouke ventured up to her nest atop their home, resting against a stack of sacks and the quarter wall that lined the roof. She looked to the stars in the sky, watching them fade as the sun’s light consumed them. It took her most of the early morning to work up the nerve to let her sight find the palace on the horizon, knowing what torment it would bring her already laden heart. For a moment, she thought maybe her time in those far-off walls was only a dream: her golden childhood a glittering illusion her spirited mind cooked up. Nouke hoped it wasn’t merely a dream—she didn’t want Ahk to be only a dream.   

Nouke lingered on her rooftop hideaway much of the morning, too disheartened to worry about the chores she was ignoring. She spent those hours mulling over the want to gather in the city square with the hope to catch a glimpse of the pharaoh and his queen. She wasn’t sure her heart could take that. Yet, the notion of seeing Ahk again was too intriguing to let pass by.

Nouke, against her better judgment, left for the city center just as the sun reached the middle of the sky, hoping she hadn’t missed the parade. Much of her walk she spent promising herself not to shout his name to stir the hope that he would see her; she would watch along with everyone else with no thought of ever becoming more than she was.  

The crowd was already beginning to gather when Nouke reached the largest part of the city's center, finding every face alight with smiles; joy her heart was too heavy to properly hold. Quickly, she perched herself on the wide edge of the fountain, standing, before anyone else had thought to do so. Others joined her on the platform, pushing and shoving until she stood shoulder to shoulder with strangers. Nouke envied them all of their ignorance; they were there to see their king and marvel—she was there to catch a final glimpse of the life she had lost.

Before long, drums filled the air with a familiar rhythm, and with each nearing beat, the communal exuberance stirred. Nouke’s heart began to beat faster, nervous knots growing in her stomach. The louder the drums became, the more Nouke questioned why she had talked herself into enduring such heartache. Still hope swelled in her breast and she yearned to shove through the sea of people, stopping before her pharaoh’s golden chariot to beg he take her back to the palace.  

Nouke wanted to feel the warmth of his kindness one more time, even if all she would ever be to him was a servant. However, she knew her place was to do and say nothing to him; he was the ruler of an empire, and she was the daughter of a suspected thief. Their paths were destined to remain forever divided.

Cheering and clapping pulled Nouke out of her rueful thoughts when the parade was upon them. The pharaoh Ahkmenrah and his Queen Setshepsut rode by slowly, hand in hand with smiles on their faces. Nouke couldn’t help but offer a soft smile seeing Ahk’s little sister Set, grown into a beautiful young woman. The prince had always been protective of his youngest sister; how perfect it was that she became his queen. He could be happy with her, and that gave Nouke a sliver of solace.  

As they passed, Nouke uttered no words or shed no tears despite the emotions writhing inside of her. It was crushing to realize she would never again know him, but she tightened her jaw with stubborn disapproval of her own feelings. There was no sense in them.

“He’s so handsome,” the stranger next to her thought aloud.

Nouke nodded.

“Yes,” the stranger's friend rebuked unenthusiastically. “But I bet he’s nasty. The handsome ones always are.”

“No,” Nouke said before she could stop herself. “You’re wrong. He’s the kindest person I’ve ever met.”

The two women cast her a skeptical glance, “And how is it, you know that?”

“My family used to work in the palace,” she confessed without missing a beat, eyes still locked on the king and queen as they rode further away. “He and I grew up together. He was my friend…”

Nouke’s voice trailed off as memories she cherished rushed to fill her mind. It wasn’t until Ahk and his queen were swallowed by the sea of people that she finally blinked back to reality. Both strangers were staring at her as though she’d spoken utter nonsense, and Nouke wondered what had possessed her to come to Ahk’s defense; though she was glad she had nonetheless.

With a sigh, Nouke left the throng of people before the sound of the drums faded completely. The image of Ahkmenrah and his queen was cumbersome in her mind as she strode through the empty streets. She knew her heart would never truly forget him, but if she could push as many of those memories out of her mind, maybe life would be easier—less painful. If she willed herself to lock him away, to forget everything about her friend that made her feel whole, then perhaps she could find peace. 

And for a while, she did. 

Next Chapter-> Chapter Seven: What We Lost

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