Chapter 1: Amenmesse: The Gold Mining Heroine
Summary:
Amenmesse receives an anonymous, encrypted message from within the capital, confirming that Septia is indeed being prepared for this public spectacle, potentially under some form of subtle coercion. The gala is a transparent trap designed to either lure Amenmesse into the capital for an assassination attempt or to publicly shame her by showing her daughter thriving under Merneptah's influence, eroding the rebellion's moral high ground.
Can Amenmesse seize control of the airwaves, turn her mother's propaganda against her, and ignite a wider rebellion, or will she and Djarhu be trapped and silenced by the very family she seeks to overthrow? The fate of the Egyptian people, and Amenmesse's legacy, hangs in the balance.
Chapter Text
PROFILE
Name: Amenmesse
Nickname: Messuy (by her friend, Djarhu)
Gender: Female
Age: mid-30s
Height: 177 cm
Weight: 59 kg
Hair color: Dark brown
Eye color: Brown
General Class - Weapon: Warlord - Axe & shield
Affiliation: Egyptian
Based on: Amenmesse, son of Merneptah and half-brother of Seti II of Egypt
The scorching sun beats down on the outdoor gold mine, a relentless hammer against the desert floor. The air shimmers with heat, distorting the distant, rocky outcrops. Amenmesse, her short, spiky dark brown hair plastered slightly to her forehead, kneels by a shallow pan, swirling gravel and water. She is stripped to practical layers – her tan bandeau bra, black leggings tied around her waist with the sleeves dangling, and a jacket with a distinct leopard texture tied casually around her waist, revealing a towel draped around her neck.
Beside her, Djarhu of Napata, equally covered in dust and sweat, works with a focused intensity.
fem!Amenmesse: [sighs, runs a hand through the water in her pan, finds nothing but sand] Just gravel. More gravel. This better be worth it, Djarhu. Every fleck of this dust could buy another blade for the cause.
Djarhu: [without looking up, her own pan swishing rhythmically] It will be, Messuy. It has to be. Menakhty’s grip on the northern routes tightens daily. We need every last shekel for our people, for the rebellion. This heat isn’t helping my focus, though. Feels like Ra himself is breathing fire down my neck.
Amenmesse nods, wiping her brow with the towel around her neck. The sweat beads on her tanned skin, tracing paths down her neck and chest. She lets out a grunt of discomfort.
fem!Amenmesse: Gods, I’m melting. I swear, a dip in the Nile would be heaven right now.
She shoves her pan aside, stands, and unwraps the towel from her neck. She pours some water from a nearby canteen over her head, letting it run down her face and neck, then uses the towel to scrub away the grime and sweat from her arms and chest. A small, grateful sigh escapes her lips.
fem!Amenmesse: Ahh, sweet relief. Even this little bit.
She wrings out the towel and, finding a sunny patch of rock, spreads it out to dry. Then, reaching for the long black turtle-neck shirt she had been wearing earlier, she deftly tied it around her neck, above her bra, letting it hang down her back.
Djarhu: [grins] Always. Rebellion fuel, remember? And I even managed to keep that hibiscus soda cold.
They move to a small shaded alcove formed by a large boulder. Amenmesse unties her leopard-print jacket, setting it aside, and then unwraps the long black turtle neck from her neck, setting it aside as well. She retrieves two metal lunchboxes and a thermos from a cool spot.
fem!Amenmesse: Here. Dates, dried meat, and a little bread. Not a feast, but it’ll sustain us.
They eat in comfortable silence for a moment, the only sounds the rustle of the dry leaves and the distant, rhythmic clang of other miners’ tools. Amenmesse uncaps the thermos and pours a deep red liquid into two metal cups.
fem!Amenmesse: [takes a long, satisfied gulp] Gods, that hits the spot. Nothing beats a cold hibiscus soda in this inferno.
Djarhu: [sipping, a content hum escaping her] Ambrosia. It always surprises me, even now, how something so simple can feel like such a luxury.
fem!Amenmesse: [leans back, her gaze distant] It's the little comforts we fight for. The right to drink our hibiscus soda in peace, without fear of our own mother’s treachery.
Djarhu’s expression hardens slightly.
Djarhu : Ugh! Merneptah's betrayal cuts deeper than any blade, Messuy. To choose Seti… to abandon you, her own blood, for a puppet. She stripped you of your birthright, of Takhat’s legacy.
fem!Amenmesse : Yes, she did. [a flash of cold anger in her eyes] And she will pay. Seti thinks she’s a queen, but she’s just a broken toy in Merneptah’s game. And Khaemwaset and Tausret… they’ll fall in line behind Seti because they’re too cowardly to defy their mother. But not us. Not my Septia. We will take back what’s ours. This gold… It’s just the beginning.
They finish their lunch. Amenmesse unties her black turtle neck shirt from her neck. She then retrieves a long linen sling bandage from her pack, wrapping it artfully stretched across her bandeau-clad chest and bare midriff, creating an additional layer of support and a more armored look. Only then does she don her black turtle-neck shirt over the wrapped sling bandage, followed by her blue sleeveless jacket and lotus-inspired arm armor. Her axe and shield are nearby, polished and ready.
fem!Amenmesse : Right. Time to shift from digging for gold to digging graves.
The air in the hidden canyon looks thick with anticipation, the metallic clank of weaponry mingling with the low murmur of men. Amenmesse stands, fully armored, her axe gleaming at her hip, addressing her assembled force of Kushite soldiers. The sun is beginning to dip, casting long, dramatic shadows.
fem!Amenmesse : [her voice, powerful and resonant, echoing off the canyon walls] Listen up, my lions! Today, we reclaim what’s ours! Menakhty’s grip chokes our supply lines, his Kerman dogs hoarding resources that belong to the free people of Egypt! We cut him off today! We shatter his arrogance, and we show Merneptah that her chosen heirs are nothing but dust beneath our boots!
A roar of agreement erupts from the ranks. Djarhu, arms with a modern assault rifle, stands beside Amenmesse, her expression grim and determined.
fem!Amenmesse : Creep. Ghosts in the dust. Djarhu, cover my flank. Kushite Vanguard, advance!
The soldiers move with practiced stealth, melting into the rocky terrain around the Kerman encampment. They reach the perimeter, hidden amongst the rocks. Several Kerman guards are visible, patrolling lazily.
fem!Amenmesse : [whispers to Djarhu ] On my mark.
She pulls a smoke grenade from her belt. A quick pull of the pin, a flick of her wrist, and the grenade arced through the air, landing amidst a cluster of tents in the enemy area. Almost instantly, a thick, acrid cloud of grey smoke begins to billow outward, rapidly obscuring vision.
fem!Amenmesse : Now, Push!
Chaos erupts from within the Kerman camp.
Menakhty: [his voice, angry and panicked, rising above the confusion] What in the desert storms?! Nubian terror-!
Djarhu: [grins grimly, raising her rifle] Terror indeed, you bastard!
*Crack*! *Crack*! *Crack*! Djarhu opens fire, precise bursts cutting down Kerman soldiers, disoriented by the smoke. Menakhty's men stumble about, coughing, unable to see their attackers.
fem!Amenmesse: [her powerful voice cutting through the din] Take them down! No quarter for Merneptah’s lapdogs!
A Kerman soldier, a burly figure, blunders out of the thickest smoke, yelling incoherently.
Kerman soldier: Death to you, Nubian terror—
*Bang*! Amenmesse, without hesitation, draws a compact pistol from a holster at her hip and puts a single, precise shot through the man’s head. He crumples, a crimson stain blossoming grotesquely on his tunic.
fem!Amenmesse: Shut up, you beast!
Menakhty sputters and coughs, trying to flee, his face contorted in rage and fear. He can barely see, a desperate shadow flailing amidst the smoke.
Menakhty: [stumbling, coughing] De-de-death to… uh… Nubian… terror… ism…
He trips over a tent rope, falling hard. Before he can recover, Amenmesse’s men swarm him, their axes and blades rising and falling in a swift, brutal fashion. Menakhty’s struggles cease.
fem!Amenmesse: [shouts] The leader is dead! Put his army to rout! No Kerman dog leaves here alive to tell of this!
The remaining Kerman soldiers, demoralized by their commander's death and the relentless assault, begin to break formation, fleeing in panicked directions. But the sounds of a second, larger force approaching made Amenmesse pause.
Djarhu: Garrison army, Messuy! They’re coming up as the next wave!
The garrison soldiers, seeing their comrades fleeing in disarray, falter. Their advance slows, hesitation spreading through their ranks.
Garrison commander: [shouts, but with less conviction] Hold the line! Don’t let them—
fem!Amenmesse: [a triumphant roar] They’re breaking! Push! Push! Cut them down! Show them the might of the true Pharaoh!
The poorly-armored Kushites, despite being outmatched by the better-equipped Kerman spearmen in one-on-one combat, mount a major counterattack, their numbers and ferocity overwhelming. They suffer considerable losses, but their momentum is unstoppable. The Kerman garrison, seeing their first line so easily shattered, begins to disintegrate, turning and running.
Kushite soldier: Hold the flanks! Don't let them escape!
The fighting is savage, a swirling maelstrom of steel and shouts. But the Kushites, enraged by Menakhty's defiance, fight with a desperate fury. They crush their foes, finishing off the fleeing garrison with additional losses on their own side, but ultimately achieving a decisive victory.
Djarhu: [appears beside Amenmesse, a small device in her hand] Messuy! The charge is set! We have three minutes!
fem!Amenmesse: [wiping blood from her axe with a grim satisfaction] Excellent. My men! Fall back! Now! We have made our point!
Amenmesse’s army, battered but victorious, began to withdraw from the hideout, moving swiftly and efficiently. As they clear the perimeter, a lone, enraged Kushite soldier, furious at their defeat, spots them.
Kushite soldier: Don't let the rebellious terrorists get away!
But it was too late. Djarhu detonated the fuse bomb.
*Boom*!
A tremendous explosion rips through the Nu-abu Hideout, sending a shockwave through the canyon and a plume of dust and debris high into the air. The Kerman stronghold, what remains of Menakhty’s forces, and their supplies are obliterated.
Amenmesse watches the rising plume of smoke, a satisfied, cold smile playing on her lips.
fem!Amenmesse: The first step, Djarhu. Just the first.
Hours later, the sun is setting, casting the gold mine in a warm, amber glow. Amenmesse, fully dressed in her battle armor, and her army, now carrying not just their weapons but also sacks of gold ore, continue to mine. The rhythmic clang of pickaxes against rock echoes through the canyon, no longer a sound of desperate prospecting, but of a calculated, victorious war effort.
fem!Amenmesse: [her voice ringing with purpose over the sounds of mining] More gold. More power. My mother's presidency will tremble. And Seti… will learn what true rule means.
The revolution had truly begun.
Chapter 2: Seti: The Chosen Heiress vs. The Terrorist Queen
Summary:
One restless night, Seti finds herself unable to sleep, her thoughts consumed by her daughter's future and her rival's treachery. She gently seduces her husband, Tausret, who wakes to find himself the object of her affection. The passionate encounter helps to clear Seti's mind, and she prepares for the challenges that lie ahead.
Join Seti, Tausret, and their allies as they fight for the heart of Shedyt in this thrilling and action-packed adventure. Will they emerge victorious, or will their enemies bring about their downfall? Discover the answer in "The Battle for Shedyt."
Chapter Text
PROFILE
Name: Seti
Nickname: Chosen Heiress (by her mother, Merneptah), Viper (by her husband, Tausret)
Gender: Female
Age: early 30s
Height: 175 cm
Weight: 59 kg
Hair color: Dark brown
Eye color: Brown
General Class - Weapon: Warlord - Khopesh & shield
Affiliation: Egyptian
Based on: Seti II of Egypt, son of Merneptah and half-brother of Amenmesse
Tausret's room, midnight. Seti, in her undergarments (a strapless lavender bandeau bra and matching boyshorts, covered with a blanket), lies awake in bed. She gazes at Tausret, her husband, who is sleeping soundly beside her, wearing only his black briefs, also covered with a blanket.
fem!Seti: [whispers] Tausret... Tausret, wake up.
Tausret stirs but doesn't wake up. Seti starts seducing him, licking his shoulders.
male!Tausret: [groggily] Hmm? Seti? What are you doing?
fem!Seti: [smiles seductively] I can't sleep. Can't you help me with that, Lotus?
Seti swells and licks Tausret's bare chest, then touches his abdomen, legs, and licks his neck.
male!Tausret: [moaning roughly] Seti, you're like a succubus...
fem!Seti: [whispers in his ear] I hope our daughter, Septimia, will do her best.
Seti finally kisses Tausret's lips, while her bra-clad chest tosses against his bare chest.
male!Tausret: [closing his half-eyes] You're like a succubus... ah...
Fade out.
Hours later, Shedyt. The helicopter blades whir loudly. Inside, Seti, fully armored and with her khopesh at her side, gazes out the window at the city of Shedyt below. Tausret, also armored, sits beside her, his bow resting on his lap.
fem!Seti: [squinting] Shedyt looks... serene today. The morning sun glints off the river.
male:Tausret: [leans forward slightly] A beautiful sight, my Viper. A testament to your mother’s government.
fem!Seti: Indeed. But wait... [Her eyes narrow.] What the hell is that? Smoke? Down there, near the Financial District!
male!Tausret: [follows her gaze] By the underworld! That's the main bank! And those look like... explosions!
fem!Seti: [her voice hardening, a dangerous edge creeping in] No! Not Shedyt! Not the city, damn it! How dare they desecrate it? They dare invade my territory?!
male:Tausret: [a grim set to his jaw] Looks like Amenmesse’s handiwork, Seti. It has her signature destructive flair.
fem!Seti: [clenching her fist, purple armor glinting] Viper, indeed. They'll feel my fangs today. Pilot! Set us down at the Shedyt Bank! Now!
Shedyt Bank, interior. Alarms blare, mixing with the screams of terrified civilians. Rebel soldiers, armed and aggressive, ransack the bank. Amenmesse, wielding her axe, barks orders, Djarhu at her side. Seti and Tausret burst through the shattered main doors, flanked by police officers.
Police officer: [yells] Septima! Leucus! They’re heavily armed! A large Nubian-Kushite group!
fem!Seti: [as Septima, to the officer, voice clear and commanding] Secure the perimeter! Get all civilians back! We go in.
male!Tausret: [as Leucus, nods, arrow already nocked] Understood, Viper. On your mark.
They surge into the bank, police flowing in behind them. The interior is a scene of utter pandemonium. Rebel soldiers, emblazoned with the Lotus-Axe symbol, grab bags of money and valuables. People cower and scream.
fem!Amenmesse: [her head snaps up, eyes blazing as she spots Seti] Hurry, you fools! Grab everything! This is our reclamation! Don't let them stop us!
Djarhu: [to a nearby soldier] Block the vault! Keep them away from the goods!
fem!Seti: [strides forward, khopesh now in hand] Amenmesse! You plague upon this land! You dare bring this savagery to Shedyt?
fem!Amenmesse: [a sneer twisting her lips] Seti! How utterly predictable. Always riding in on your high horse, playing the hero. Still clinging to Mother's apron strings, I see! [She clashes briefly with a police officer, then spins, her axe aimed for Seti.] You’ll regret this, Mother's henchwoman!
male!Tausret: [draws his bow, aiming] Stay clear, Viper! [His bowstring sings a deadly tune. An arrow streaks towards Amenmesse’s arm.]
fem!Amenmesse: [dodges with surprising agility] Fast, but not fast enough, 'Lotus'! You'll need more than parlor tricks!
fem!Seti: [her khopesh becomes a blur of silver, sweeping in a wide arc, forcing two rebel soldiers to stumble back. She parries a wild axe swing from another, then pivots, bringing the curved blade down on an assailant's arm.] You'll pay for this, sister! Every scream, every broken window! Move, police! Clear a path!
The bank's storage room. From the main hall, a muffled cry echoes. Khaemwaset, Seti's brother and a police officer, hears it and moves towards a side door labeled "Storage."
Khaemwaset: [mutters] Hold on! What was that sound?
fem!Seti: [fights fiercely] Go, brother! Get them out!
Khaemwaset kicks the door open, revealing a grim scene inside. A rope from the ceiling ties a female hostage, her right wrap gown top torn. A rebel soldier is standing too close, intimately. He sees the soldier grabbing and licking the hostage's right upper breast above her bandeau bra.
Khaemwaset: [roars with disgust and fury] Hey! What in the mummy's tomb is going on here?!
Rebel soldier: [startled, turning with a lewd grin] Ugh! Just having some fun with the merchandise, officer. This one's a feisty little...
Khaemwaset: [his face contorts in rage] You perverted scum! Get your filthy hands off her!
Khaemwaset lunges, delivering a powerful kick to the soldier's midsection, sending him sprawling against a wall, but the soldier pulls off the rest of the hostage's gown top, exposing her.
Rebel soldier: [gasps, clutching his side] Aargh! My arm!
Khaemwaset: [stepping over him, already untying the hostage] You're done. Lady, are you alright?
Hostage: [in her bandeau bra and gown bottom, trembling, clutching the torn gown to her chest] Thank you... Oh, thank you!
Khaemwaset: [gently but firmly] Let’s get you out of here. Stay close. Police! Secure her!
The bank's main hall. Khaemwaset leads the shaken hostage out of the storage room, just as a new whirlwind of force enters the bank. Merneptah, President of Egypt, her white hair in an updo, wearing a sleek black jumpsuit under an unbuttoned white blazer, strides in, wielding a heavy club.
Khaemwaset: [eyes widening in surprise] Mother?! What are you—
fem!Merneptah: [her voice cutting through the din, eyes blazing with presidential authority] Enough of this rabble! You think you can desecrate my city, my bank, my legacy?!
Merneptah swings her club with precise, devastating force. Several rebel soldiers scatter like bowling pins, collapsing under the blows.
fem!Merneptah: Out of my sight, vermin!
fem!Amenmesse: [eyes widening in frustration, seeing her mother’s arrival] It's the traitor! Always interfering! Always playing the righteous leader!
Djarhu: [to Amenmesse] The 'traitor'!? There are too many now, Amenmesse! She's pushing them back!
fem!Merneptah: [advancing, her club a blur] You will not prosper here, Amenmesse! Not while I breathe! This reckless rebellion ends now!
fem!Amenmesse: [gritters her teeth, looking from Merneptah to Seti and Khaemwaset, her face a mask of bitter defeat] I shall remember this, traitors! Shame on you! This isn't over!
Amenmesse signals desperately to her remaining rebel soldiers and Djarhu.
femAmenmesse: Retreat! Now! [The remaining rebels, intimidated by Merneptah's ferocity, scatter and flee the bank, Amenmesse and Djarhu among them.]
House later, Merneptah's Presidential Palace, dining room. The family gathers for dinner in the opulent dining room of Merneptah's presidential palace. The previous chaos is a stark contrast to the quiet, dignified meal.
fem!Merneptah: [taking a sip of water] A rather eventful afternoon, wouldn't you say, children? The banking sector will be busy with repairs.
Khaemwaset: [shaking his head slightly] Eventful is an understatement, Mother. That pervert in the storage room... I almost lost my temper there. Some people have no respect.
fem!Seti: [pats his arm reassuringly] You did well, brother. You saved that woman. And you, Mother, you swept them aside like dust. Truly amazing. I've never seen anyone handle a club with such... presidential authority.
fem!Merneptah: [a faint, knowing smile plays on her lips] They needed a reminder of who truly governs this land. Amenmesse's theatrics are tiresome, but occasionally, they serve to reinforce the natural order.
male!Tausret: [to Seti] She certainly put up a fight, Viper. But your khopesh sings a beautiful song of justice. It was a privilege to fight by your side.
fem!Seti: [smiling back at him] And your arrows, my Lotus, are as swift as a desert wind. You are always my strong flank.
fem!Merneptah: [sighs softly, looking at her family] She'll be back. Of course she will. Her resentment runs deep. But for tonight, we dine in peace. And tomorrow, we strengthen our hold. We fortify our defenses.
Khaemwaset: [raising his glass] To peace, then.
fem!Seti & male!Tausret: [echoing, raising their own glasses] For the President!
Chapter 3: Bay: The Peacock's True Healing
Summary:
Despite her intimidating presence, Bay is a woman of many layers. In the privacy of her office, she lets her guard down, indulging in the pleasures of the flesh with her male partner, Captain Abdosir of Byblos. Their passionate encounters are filled with stolen moments and secret glances, as they navigate the treacherous waters of their forbidden love.
But Bay's world is shaken when a shocking event occurs during an archery training session. President Merneptah, her close friend and confidante, is injured by a stray arrow, leaving her in need of medical attention. Bay rushes to her side, tending to Merneptah's wounds with a tenderness that belies her reputation.
Chapter Text
PROFILE
Name: Ramesse Khamenteru (other name), Bay (current)
Nickname: Chancellor Bay, The Syro-Egyptian Chancellor, The Peacock Empress (by some, due to her blazer)
Gender: Female
Age: late 40s
Height: 176 cm
Weight: 62 kg
Hair color: Brown
Eye color: Hazel
General Class - Weapon: Warlord - Sword & shield
Affiliation: Canaanite (in birth), Egyptian (current)
Based on: Chancellor Bay | Ramesse Khamenteru, a Syrian official of Ancient Egypt who served as chancellor under Seti II.
Bay enters the office wearing a green, wrap-blazer printed with peacock feathers on the sleeveless left side, a sleeveless, high-necked black jumpsuit, and hazel high heels. She locks the door and walks towards her desk.
fem!Bay: [in a sleek marinière-inspired wrap camisole, sailor skirt, and high heels, her hair in a precise updo under a sailor cap, a knowing smile playing on her lips, as she clicks the lock on the heavy oak door] Well, Captain, a private moment, wouldn't you say? Especially before the naval review.
Abdosir: [approaches Bay from behind, placing his hands on her bare shoulders] You smell like lotus flowers today, my dear Admiral.
fem!Bay: [a soft sigh escaping her, leaning into his touch] Ahh, Captain, of brine and adventure. A potent combination.
Abdosir’s hands glide lower, his thumbs brushing the edge of her camisole. Bay, her eyes half-lidded, allows him to guide her. She lies back on the large, ornate desk, the cool wood a pleasant contrast to the warmth of his hands. He unties the delicate ribbon of her camisole, the fabric falling open to reveal the smooth black bandeau bra beneath, and the faint, yet prominent, scar cutting across her midriff.
Abdosir: [his gaze lingering on the scar for a moment before moving up, pressing a gentle kiss to her upper breast, just above the bra line] Oh, Admiral. Even in uniform, you carry tales.
fem!Bay: [a soft moan escapes her lips as he kisses her, her head tilting back as he expertly unpins her sailor cap, then unties the sophisticated updo, letting her long, wavy brown hair cascade over the edge of the desk] Mmm, Captain... Now, that’s a rank I preferred.
Abdosir’s hand continues its journey, moving down to her calves, his fingers lingering on her ankles before he deftly slips off her high heels, one by one. The air in the office grew thick with unspoken promises, the only sound Bay’s soft, pleased hum, when suddenly—
*Riiing*! *Riiing*!
The sharp, insistent ring of the secure line phone sliced through the moment, as jarring as a thunderclap. Bay’s eyes snap open, the haze of passion instantly replaced by a flicker of irritation, then pure professional calculation.
fem!Bay: Oh, Thoth! The phone's ringing!
Bay, in her bandeau bra, sailor collar, and skirt, pulls on her high heels and picks up her phone. Bay, surprised, hears the voice of President Merneptah, where the archery training is held at the park.
fem!Merneptah: [over the phone] Bay, are you there? I need your help with the archery training.
fem!Bay: [clearing her throat] Yes, Ma'am. I'll be right there.
Bay, while on the phone, removes her sailor dress (a sailor collar and skirt) and wears high heels, a jumpsuit over her bandeau bra and boyshorts, and a blazer. Bay finally leaves the office and heads to the archery park.
Hours later, Archery Park.
The air was filled with the thwip of arrows and the distant shouts of encouragement. Chancellor Bay, now in her familiar peacock blazer, stood beside President Merneptah, both women observing the archery training with keen eyes. Merneptah, in her early 60s, with elegant white updo hair, wore an unbuttoned sharp white blazer over a sleek, high-necked black jumpsuit, and high heels.
fem!Merneptah: [clapping lightly as Ramesses, a spirited late-teen with a black high ponytail, hits a bullseye] Excellent shot, Ramesses! That’s the precision we need.
fem!Bay: [a small, approving nod] Indeed, Ma’am. Her form is impeccable.
They watched as another trainee stepped up. Suddenly, Merneptah’s daughter, Amenmesse, a woman with short, spiky hair, rushed forward, snatching an arrow from a quiver.
fem!Amenmesse: Not enough arrows! I’ll just use—
*Thwip*!
Before anyone could react, the arrow flew, not towards the target, but veering wildly.
fem!Merneptah: [a sharp gasp, her hand instinctively going to her left shoulder as a crimson stain bloomed on the white fabric of her jumpsuit] Oh, Amun!
male!Tausret: [with short hair, rushing forward, a look of alarm on his face] Hey! That’s mine! My best hunting arrow!
fem!Merneptah: [her voice strained with pain, but firm, turning her gaze on Amenmesse] Amenmesse! What in the name of the Two Lands was that? You need to stop throwing at the wrong target! Is this some new form of aggressive competitive spirit?
fem!Seti: [with shoulder-length, fringed hair, rushing over, aghast] Oh, Sutekh! Amenmesse, what possessed you? Mother, are you alright? You nearly took her eye out, you clumsy ox! The training is stopped! Everyone, stand down!
Chaos erupted among the trainees. Chancellor Bay, ever the pragmatist, was already moving.
fem!Bay: [her voice cutting through the rising clamor, calm but authoritative] Ma’am, let’s get you to the medical pavilion. Immediately. Seti, Tausret, ensure order is restored here. Ramesses, gather the other trainees.
Minutes later, Medical Facility.
The air was sterile, the hushed tones a stark contrast to the park’s earlier commotion. Bay, her expression focused, carefully helped Merneptah.
fem!Bay: [gently unzipping Merneptah’s jumpsuit top down her back, then helping her remove her blazer] Just a little pressure, Ma’am. Let’s get this blazer off... and the jumpsuit top, carefully.
Merneptah, wincing, lowered her grey camisole, revealing her white bandeau bra. She untied her elegant updo, letting her white hair fall around her shoulders as she sat on the examination chair.
fem!Merneptah: [a wry smile, despite the pain] A clumsy daughter, not a battle wound, Chancellor. Still, it smarts.
fem!Bay: [applying antiseptic cream to the wound with a light, practiced touch] Still needs attention, Ma’am. This antiseptic will sting for a moment. A clean wound is a quick-healing wound.
Merneptah flinched slightly but held still. Bay then carefully applied an adhesive bandage over the treated area.
fem!Bay: There we are. A neat job. Nothing a royal healer couldn’t handle, but I believe I suffice.
Merneptah nodded, then began to pull her camisole back on, wincing again as the fabric brushed her injured shoulder. She managed to get it on, but the left strap hung loosely, exposing the upper line of her bra and the freshly bandaged wound.
Just then, the door slid open. Amenmesse, her spiky hair a little disheveled, her face pale with worry, peered in.
fem!Amenmesse: Mother! Oh, Mother, I am so, so sorry! I didn’t look, I just grabbed… it was a Tausret-brandishing impulse...
fem!Merneptah: [with a sigh, but a soft smile, reaching out a hand] It was an accident, dear. A lesson learned, I hope, about checking your quiver before you launch. And perhaps, not borrowing your brother's prize arrows.
Amenmesse rushed to her mother’s side, embracing her carefully. Bay watched them, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching her lips.
fem!Bay: Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Ma’am. I have a certain consul to brief before their morning coffee, and I have a feeling he won’t be as forgiving as you. Get some rest.
Chapter 4: Kurunta: The Demoness' Embrace
Summary:
Explore the scene as Kurunta systematically dismantles the male hostage – not through explicit physical torture (though the threat is palpable), but through psychological degradation and chilling certainty of his impending doom. How does she use her calm demeanor, her physical presence, and the unspoken threat of the "Hittite Conglomerate's" power to break him?
Will a hostage confess, beg for mercy, or try one last desperate defiance? How does Kurunta deliver the final "judgement" that reinforces her fearsome reputation as the "White Demoness," leaving him utterly destroyed, even if physically untouched, as she calmly straightens her blazer and picks up her phone for the next order of business?
Warning: This prompt involves themes of torture, extreme violence, sexualized dominance, psychopathy, and disturbing posthumous interactions (read: necrophilia). Writers should proceed with extreme caution and ensure compliance with their platform's safety and content guidelines.
Chapter Text
PROFILE
Name: Ulmi-Teshub (real name), Kurunta (current)
Nickname: White Demoness of Tarhuntassa (as Ulmi-Teshub), Antlered-helmed woman (as Kurunta)
Gender: Female
Age: early 50s
Height: 173 cm
Weight: 62 kg
Hair color: Silver/white
Eye color: Grey
General Class - Weapon: Fighter - Sword & shield
Affiliation: Hittite
Based on: Amenmesse, son of Merneptah and half-brother of Seti II of Egypt
A dimly lit, stark room. A single bare bulb hangs overhead, casting harsh shadows. An unnamed male hostage, stripped to his tattered sailor uniform, is bound tightly to a wooden St. Andrew's cross. His face is already bruised. Kurunta, known for this moment as Tamris, stands before him. Her silver hair is loose around her shoulders, and she wears only a short, flowing blue night dress, revealing a bronze necklace that rests just above her grey bandeau bra and matching boyshorts. Her muscular frame is evident beneath the light fabric, radiating a chilling serenity.
fem!Kurunta: [as Tamris, a sharp, open-handed slap echoes, followed by a grunt of pain.] Not so comfortable now, are we? This uniform is rather… restrictive. Let's make things a little easier for you.
Off-screen, Tamris' strong hands grip the hostage's uniform, tearing the fabric with a satisfying rip. The blue cloth gives way easily, leaving him shivering, clad only in his boxer briefs.
Hostage: [gasping, his voice rough with pain and anger] What in the Underworld do you want? Who are you, you… you monster!
fem!Kurunta: [her voice is calm, almost serene, as she steps fully into view, now holding a modern pistol. The hostage is left in only his boxer briefs, his eyes wide with terror and defiance] Oh, just a little… redecorating. And as for who I am… let's just say you've stumbled into the wrong hunting grounds, little lamb.
Hostage: [spits weakly, defiance still flickering in his eyes] You stag bitch!
fem!Kurunta: [a slow, chilling smile spreads across her serene face. She raises the pistol, aiming it precisely at his chest. Her grey eyes glint with a predatory joy] "Stag?" Perhaps. But a hunter nonetheless. And where there's a hunter… there's prey. You'll be my prey. [A low, guttural, evil laugh bubbles from her throat, filling the small room.]
A single, deafening gunshot explodes, followed by a wet, sickening thud. The hostage convulses violently against his bindings.
Hostage: [a raw, gurgling scream tears through the air, fading quickly into a dying choke] Aaaaaahhhh!!!
Tamris regards her handiwork for a moment, a look of calm satisfaction on her serene face. Then, with a fluid motion, she slips off her short blue night dress, letting it fall to the floor. She nudges it with her foot, sending it sliding to rest over the dead hostage’s legs. She remains in her grey bandeau bra and boyshorts. Her fingers adjusted a pair of red-framed glasses onto her nose. Next, she found a pair of sensible, yet stylish, high heels and slipped them on. She pulled on the bottom half of a black jumpsuit, tying the sleeves at her bare abdomen, then shrugged into an unbuttoned, sharp blue blazer over her bandeau bra. It was a transformation, both subtle and stark, from predator to professional.
fem!Kurunta: [as Ulmi-Teshub, her voice, now crisp and businesslike, devoid of the previous malice] The torture is over.
She puts the phone down, then, with surprising strength for a woman of her age, unchains the cross from the wall. The dead hostage's body sags. Tamris, as Ulmi-Teshub, as she now seems to be, drags him with practiced ease across the floor to a plush sofa. She lets his head loll against the armrest.
A strange, almost tender expression crosses her face. She leans over, her tongue darting out to lick a streak of blood from his chest, then runs it over his cold skin. Her fingers trace the lines of his legs, then she forcibly positions his hand, making it appear to cup her upper breast just above her bandeau bra. A faint smile touches her lips.
Finally, she pulls off her blazer, letting it drop to the floor, leaving her in just her bra. She sits down on the sofa, pulling the dead hostage's body off the cushion and onto the floor in front of her. With a firm push of her foot, she nudges his head until it rests, face-up, near her bare foot. It looks, to a casual observer, as if he is worshipping her.
Tamris sighs contentedly, exposing her abdomen and bare legs as she shifts into a more comfortable position. She, in her bandeau bra, boyshorts, and high heels, is asleep. closes her eyes, the red-framed glasses still on her nose, and soon, her soft, even breathing indicates she has fallen asleep.
fem!Kurunta: Good boy. Now… quiet time.
Chapter 5: Merneptah: Night Trap (20 Years Ago)
Summary:
In the years following the traumatic Libu terrorist attack, 40-year-old Marina (Merneptah), President Ramsey's chosen heiress, grapples with the lingering psychological scars of the assault and the profound sense of helplessness she experienced. Though rescued by her formidable father, the violation and her own submissive reaction clash violently with her destiny as a future "Warlord" wielding a club and shield.
Chapter Text
PROFILE
Name: Merneptah
Nickname: Marnie (by her father, Ramsey), Great President of All Egypt, Ma'am (by Chancellor Bay)
Gender: Female
Age: early 60s -> early 40s (twenty years ago)
Height: 175 cm
Weight: 61 kg
Hair color: Silver/white -> Hazel (twenty years ago)
Eye color: Brown
General Class - Weapon: Warlord - Club & shield
Affiliation: Egyptian
Based on: Merneptah, son of Ramesses the Great
Twenty years ago, the soft hum of the computer filled President Ramsey's office. Isaak (early 40s, full name Isaak Ramsey El-Pharrys), based on Isetnofret II, fingers flying across the keyboard, types intently, his brow furrowed in concentration. The rhythmic click-clack is the only sound, until…
*Ding-dong*!
The sharp chime of the doorbell echoes through the grand palace. Isaak flinches, hands pausing mid-air.
male!Isetnofret: [frowning, looking up from the screen] What the Sphinx is that?
Next to him, Marina (early 40s, Ramsey's chosen heiress, full name Marina Ramsey El-Pharrys, whom he calls "Lotus", in her hazel, updo hair, wearing an unbuttoned sharp white blazer over a sleek, wrapped dark green sleeve dress, matching short trousers, and brown loose knee high boots), based on Merneptah, engrossed in a thick tome, startles. Her hazel hair, styled gracefully in an updo, shifts as she raises her head. She slowly closes her book, placing it precisely on the ornate table beside her.
fem!Merneptah: [calm, but with a hint of curiosity] I'll see who it is.
She rises from her chair, her sleek, dark green sleeve dress rustling softly. She walks out of the President's office, her brown loose knee-high boots making soft padding sounds on the corridor's polished floor. She descends the grand staircase with swift, purposeful steps, then quickens her pace down the long hall, reaching the magnificent lobby.
She approaches the grand double doors, her hand resting on the intricate handle.
fem!Merneptah: [speaking through the closed door, her voice clear] Yes, there are people inside. Who is it?
A gruff voice from the other side answers, muffled but discernible.
Unknown Terrorist 1 (Libu): This is the Libu speaking. We want to carry out our duties here.
Marina's expression registers mild confusion, then disinterest. She unlatches the half-door, opening it just enough to peer out, her white blazer slightly askew with the movement. Outside, five burly men, dressed in paramilitary gear, stand menacingly.
Unknown Terrorist 2 (Libu): [stepping forward, eyes glinting] Our task is to uncover the secrets in the safe room.
Marina’s face remains impassive, clearly unimpressed and unworried. She has no interest in their "duties" and begins to pull the half-door closed, dismissing them entirely.
Suddenly, from the top of the stairs, Isaak appears, having followed her, his eyes widening in alarm as he sees his wife attempting to close the door on the armed men.
male!Isetnofret: [yells, a surge of dread hitting him] Marina, no!
But it’s too late. With a powerful lunge, the unknown terrorists, now revealed as the notorious Libu, shove the half-door open, forcing their way into the lobby. Marina stumbles back, her eyes wide with shock.
fem!Merneptah & male!Isetnofret: [simultaneously screaming in terror] *Aaaaaaaahhh!*
male!Isetnofret: [his voice cracking with recognition and panic] It's the Libu!
Before Marina can fully react, two of the male Libu terrorists seize her, their rough hands gripping her arms.
Terrorist 3 (Libu): You're coming with us, lady!
Another terrorist, a brutish man with a cruel sneer, lunges at Isaak, landing a sharp kick to his stomach. Isaak doubles over with a grunt of pain.
fem!Merneptah: [struggling against her captors, her voice a desperate plea] Isaak! Get off me!
The terrorist continues his assault on Isaak, delivering powerful kicks and punches. Isaak falls to his knees, clutching his ribs.
Meanwhile, the two Libu terrorists holding Marina tighten their grip, forcing her into a submissive posture. Her innate calmness evaporates, replaced by fear.
Terrorist 4 (Libu): [pulling out a riding crop, a cruel glint in his eyes] Quiet, little bird!
He quickly blindfolds Marina, plunging her into darkness, then delivers a sharp, stinging blow with the riding crop across her shoulder. Marina gasps, a whimper escaping her lips.
As Isaak struggles on the floor, the other two terrorists, now free from engaging him directly, move towards Marina.
Terrorist 2 (Libu): [grabs Marina’s pristine white blazer] Let's lighten you up, beauty.
He roughly tears the unbuttoned blazer away from her, revealing the sleek, wrapped dark green sleeve dress beneath.
Isaak, witnessing the assault and humiliation of his wife, feels a surge of overwhelming fury, momentarily forgetting his own pain.
male!Isetnofret: [roaring, his voice laced with pure rage] Get off my Lotus!
One of the terrorists, with a sinister grin, unties Marina's updo hair, letting the hazel strands fall messily around her shoulders. Then, he begins to unwrap her dress aggressively.
Terrorist 1 (Libu): Let's see what we have here.
The dark green fabric peels away, revealing the simple yet practical grey camisole she wears underneath. He then roughly tears off the camisole, leaving her in her white bandeau bra. With a leering glance, he unbuttons her short trousers, peeking at the upper line of her white boyshorts.
male!Isetnofret: [his eyes burning with incandescent fury, pushing himself up despite his injuries] You perverts!
Two of the terrorists, now free to act, brazenly reach out, their hands touching and licking Marina's bare skin – her shoulder, her arm, her collarbone. Marina shudders, her body tensing, but she remains trapped and unable to fight back.
Terrorist 2 (Libu): Mmm, soft.
Terrorist 3 (Libu): Delicious.
Isaak, enraged beyond words by the disgusting violation of his wife, attempts to lunge forward, but the remaining terrorist blocks him, preparing for another blow. A primal anger consumes Isaak, infuriated that these terrorists dare to use him and his wife in such a vile manner.
Suddenly, the whistling sound of a projectile slices through the air. A precisely aimed arrow, loosed from above, strikes one of the terrorists holding Marina in the shoulder, causing him to cry out and release her.
From the top of the grand staircase, President Ramsey, Marina’s father, descends, his presidential aura replaced by the fury of a warrior king. He holds a magnificent bow in one hand and a gleaming sword in the other.
Ramesses: [his voice booming, echoing through the lobby] You dare invade my home! Unhand my daughter!
He moves with terrifying speed, launching another arrow, then closing the distance. With a swift, powerful swing of his sword, he attacks the terrorists, specifically targeting those who were assaulting Marina. The Libu, taken by complete surprise, scatter.
Terrorist 1 (Libu): [stumbling back, fear in his eyes] Retreat! Retreat!
Defeated in their objective and now facing the President himself, the remaining Libu terrorists scramble, fleeing from the palace lobby and out into the night. Within moments, the sounds of President Ramsey's police officers, alerted by the commotion, can be heard chasing them down the palace grounds.
Ramsey rushes to Marina, concern etched on his face. She stands trembling, her hair disheveled, her camisole gone, her trousers unbuttoned over her boyshorts, and her dress draped unevenly over her bra in a futile attempt at modesty.
Ramesses: [gently unblindfolding Marina, his gaze sweeping over both her and Isaak] You two are alright?
Marina blinks, her eyes adjusting, then looks at her father, tears welling up.
fem!Merneptah: [voice trembling, barely a whisper] Father... they... they were...
Isaak, bruised but standing tall, quickly retrieves Marina's discarded blazer. He wraps an arm around her, pulling her close, trying to provide comfort and cover. He gently hands her the blazer. Isaak then looks at Ramsey, a profound gratitude in his eyes.
male!Isetnofret: [his voice a bit hoarse] We're okay now, Mr. President. Thanks to you. [He looks at Marina, then back at Ramsey.] Come. Let's go to the President's Dining Room. We all need to sit down.
Ramsey nods, his gaze softening as he looks at his clearly shaken daughter.
Ramesses: Indeed. We need to discuss this. Come, my children.
Ramsey puts a protective arm around Marina's shoulder as they all move towards the dining room, leaving the silent, violated lobby behind, the sounds of the fleeing terrorists and the approaching police fading into the background.