Sands of Yore **COMPLETE, being re-written**

Chapter Two

Bes watched the girl that now lay unconscious in his arms. She intrigued him. Her skin and hair colour, as well as her clothing, and her language were new and foreign to him. And in the twenty-three summers since his birth he had never witnessed such display of disrespect towards any members of the Royal Family.

His brows furrowed together, studying her, as he wondered why she had no protection while being out in this heat.

His gaze turned towards the open wound on her left arm. It was swollen and blotted with dark patches. Blood trickled out of the bite wound. It was then that he realized that her breathing was becoming shallower. If he did not get her to the healer soon then her soul, her ka, would soon meet with Anubis and her heart would be weighed before the God of the afterlife guided her to Duat, the realm of the dead.

He contemplated leaving the stupid girl in the sun to suffer, to allow the sand to bury her body deep where it would never be found, but something told him not to. His mind replaying the events that had just happened and the way she attacked him. The way she spoke in that strange language, her voice was soft and melodic, even if she was angry.

Before he could think more on he heard a familiar voice in the distance. Ripping his gaze from the woman to where he saw his most trusted vizier and childhood friend, Amun, riding towards him.

"My Pharaoh! Why are you all the way out here and not back at the meeting? It is imperative for you to be there." Amun chastised. Bes couldn't help but feel enjoyment at seeing him frustrated, relieved, and exhausted all at once.

"I just went for a stroll, the meeting was beginning to bore me and I needed to walk around." He paused at the look on Amun's face and sighed. "Alright, I needed to take one of the horses and enjoy being out of that cramped little tent. Stop blabbering already."

"As much as I detest you going off on your own, you, at least must inform someone where you are going! If something happened to you my King-."

"You may cease. You need naught worry about a thing. I am fine."

Amun had to disagree when he saw the blood on his Pharaoh's lip, the slowly forming bruise on his side, and the unconscious woman that lay in his arms with an open, swollen, bleeding wound on her forearm.

"Do not worry? You are fine?" Amun asked, flabbergasted. "Do I dare ask, who this might be, my King?"

The king's eyes flickered back to the woman, noticing that her temperature has risen within the moments that she fell unconscious.

He shook his head, looking up at Amun. "I do not know, I came upon her wandering around the desert with no protective covering, with naught a possession except for the strange looking satchel. Another intriguing thing, Amun, is that she does not speak our language."

"What language does she speak? Latin? Some form of Greek perhaps?"

"If it is Latin or Greek it is no dialect I have ever before heard."

Amun nodded his head once, "Alright. May I ask how you came to holding her in your arms and why you look as though you have been attacked, my King?"

Bes glanced at him, a slight smirk playing on his lips. If it was anyone else he would not allow them to speak to him freely. Though, even if Amun was not permitted to do so, he was always bold and would do so without caring about the consequences.

"As I said before, she was walking through the desert, speaking to herself. Our encounter...was interesting to say the least, even though it was not on the very best of terms."

Amun's brow rose. Usually the Pharaoh's meeting of new people never went as well as one would hope.

"Do I dare ask what happened?"