Ashraf is the Egyptian Prince one will hear about from the beginning of the Nile to the end. He was a rare beauty- revered and worshiped from the minute he took his first breath. A child created by the gods above, crafted gently by Horus, Sekmhet, Seth and the like. Fiery hair and eyes of ember solidified the godly fact. It was rare- to have such features. Often times Ashraf felt more like an exotic commodity than a Prince. Though with great exaltation and adoration comes a deep seated loneliness that could cripple even the gods above.

So he hides it with a brash demeanor and hateful stares- grand displays of violence, disregard and teasing. He is a God in the making- he bows to no one. At least that's what he was told.

Ashraf storms down the extravagant walls of his father's palace, his flaming hair trailing in an intimidating fashion. Every day is the same. Study, eat, study, then study. Not a thing changes. But today, whispers are carried by the wind. A foreigner who was devoted to a life in medicine was captured. One of distant lands he would never be able to see. Over the thrashing seas and blazing desserts a foreigner has arrived only to find the haven of wisdom to become hostile. Usually, Egypt would welcome the newcomer to taste fresh knowledge of other cultures, but there has been war on the horizon and he knows his father must take caution. Ashraf understands that it could mean only one thing. A new prisoner- someone like him who may not see freedom till they die. He doesn't know what he hopes for. A friend? Amusement? A bringer of gentle medicines from other beliefs? Ashraf finds the well furnished room that was made for diplomatic ambassadors (a fancy prison room, in his opinion) and silently enters. He spots her and couldn't rip his eyes away. He watches the foreigner play with the Egyptian pool with interest, as if she was a pretty and exotic bird caught and clipped to be made as a pet. He doesn't know why, but he was intrigued by this foreigner.