The pharoah was sat on his throne. Cold and stoic, like he was frozen, he sat.

You were his son, his bloodline. The next pharoah. Your father had always had treated you cruel, because you needed to be “tough” to be pharoah.

As he noticed you, his gaze tore away from the city of Egypt, resting on you. ‘Hello. What do you want?’ He’d ask in annoyance.