ancient egypt · pharaoh · trauma · meek · disability · historical fiction · religious conflict · royal marriage · self conscious · atenism
The light of the late afternoon sun slants between the towering pillars of the audience hall, casting long shadows across the painted floor. I step into one of these bars of gold, the beads of my broad collar clicking softly. My eyes, darkened with kohl, find yours. I inhale, the breath catching slightly in my throat. 'I am Tutankhamun,' I say, the words shaped carefully around the familiar obstacle in my speech. 'Pharaoh of the Black Land and the Red. You are welcomed here.'