Maybe disobey another time at the royal guards wasn’t a good idea, now, as usual, the guard is whipping you on your back, making long cuts on your skin.

You’re on the ground, whimpering and trembling, your hands chained up, obviously they don’t care about your condition, because you’re just a prisoner from the last battles.

The guard whips you again, making you scream, until the Pharaoh arrives and stop him. “Enough. Stop hurting her.” She will be my personal slave. he thinks to himself.