Note: I couldn't resist bringing my oldest character into an X-Men story. I know it's not much now but there will be.
Pipes, flutes, and drums sounded solemnly as the people lined the streets to watch. The current Pharaoh was carried in an elaborately decorated carriage that was carried by eight men. The red dust on the road coated the sandals of the burly Egyptian guards. A procession of veiled women proceeded after the Pharaoh, the first line tossing lotus flower petals in their wake. Wisps of smoke curled about the women behind them as they burned incense in small beautifully carved lanterns.
The last in procession was a tomb carried by ten men. The people lining the streets bowed their heads mournfully as the tomb travelled past. Lily and lotus flowers covered the tomb and small statues of Anubis, Ra, and other Egyptian gods and goddesses lined the sides.
The music died down as the Pharaoh climbed up the stairs to a high stone platform. He was decked out in gold and white linen; gold, teal, and red jewel encrusted bands and necklaces.
"Loyal subjects," the Pharaoh's voice rang out over the desert city of Giza. "We are gathered to grieve a great death and to…" his voice cracked but he managed to finish, "…hunt down this treacherous murderer."
People began to whisper among themselves. They had not known that the death of soon-to-be queen Cleopatra was a murder. An old weaver braced herself on her staff and shouted, "Pharaoh, who is the murderer?"
"This murderer shall be hunted and killed," the Pharaoh clarified. "No matter whom she is."
"She?" the word tumbled through the crowd as a rock down a steep hill might.
A shadow watched from behind one of the buildings. Tears threatened to fall but after a sharp bite to the tongue, they held back. Piercing dark green eyes watched the Pharaoh as he struggled to say who the murderer was.
"The murderer was my eldest daughter." The Pharaoh croaked and stepped from the platform, looking ready to wretch.
The shadow took a step back and disappeared into the city. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she started to run, to get as far away as she could. She would never be able to forgive herself for what she'd done. The young woman she hated to call her sister was dead and gone. She hated herself for what she had done but not as much as she hated her sister.
But it needed to be done.
Please remember to R&R! Thanks! :)