The dim light of early morning filtered through the high windows of Sobek’s palace, casting long shadows across the polished stone floors. Hana moved quietly through the halls, her footsteps barely audible against the faint hum of the city waking outside. Karri walked beside her, her expression calm but her eyes sharp with determination. The two attendants had risen before dawn, their minds racing with the plan they had concocted the night before. It was a gamble, one that could cost them dearly if it failed. But for Sobek, they were willing to take the risk.
They reached the viewing room, where the Goa’uld advisor, a tall, stern man named Varek, stood waiting. His golden eyes narrowed as they approached, his expression a mix of suspicion and curiosity.
“What are you two doing here at this hour?” Varek asked, his voice low and measured. “Lord Sobek has not yet risen.”
Hana bowed deeply, her voice steady despite the knot of anxiety in her chest. “We come on behalf of Lord Sobek. He instructed us to pass a message to Mistress Hathor before he retired for the night.”
Varek’s brow furrowed, his skepticism evident. “Lord Sobek did not inform me of this. Why would he entrust such a task to his attendants?”
Karri stepped forward, her tone calm but firm. “Lord Sobek did not wish to be disturbed. He entrusted us with this task because he knew we would carry it out without delay. Surely, you would not question his judgment?”
Varek hesitated, his gaze flickering between the two women. He was tempted to call Sobek and confirm their story, but the thought of disturbing his lord’s rest gave him pause. After a moment, he nodded reluctantly. “Very well. But if this is some kind of deception, you will answer for it.”
Hana and Karri exchanged a brief glance, relief flickering in their eyes. Varek stepped aside, allowing them access to the communication console. As he left the room, Hana took a deep breath and activated the device. The screen ignited, filling the dim room with a golden light before revealing the enchanting visage of Mistress Hathor.
Both women bowed deeply, their heads nearly touching the floor. “Mistress Hathor,” Hana began, her voice respectful but confident. “We come on behalf of our lord, Sobek. He humbly requests your assistance in his campaign against the defiant lords who oppose your rule. He wishes to be gifted with several Al’kesh transport ships to aid in his conquest.”
If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
Hathor leaned back in her throne, her lips curling into a faint smile as she regarded the two attendants on the screen before her. She was deeply amused by their audacity. Slaves, even personal attendants, were rarely allowed to participate in matters of state, let alone communicate directly with a System Lord. The fact that they even knew the name “Al’kesh” suggested that Sobek had been allowing them to listen in on his discussions. This was… unusual.
“How interesting,” Hathor murmured, her voice like honey laced with venom. “Your lord sends his attendants to make such a request? Does he not have the courage to speak to me himself?”
Karri bowed again, her expression calm but her voice firm. “Lord Sobek did not wish to disturb you with trivial matters, Mistress. He believed this request could be handled by those who serve him faithfully.”
Hathor’s smile widened, her golden eyes gleaming with amusement. Sobek was an enigma, a Goa’uld who seemed to defy convention at every turn. His rapid establishment of a domain on Vulcan IV and his efficient management of resources had already caught her attention. While she did not fully trust him—trust was a luxury no System Lord could afford—he had given her no reason to doubt his loyalty. Yet.
“Very well,” Hathor said after a moment, her tone light but laced with authority. “I will grant his request. But tell your lord that next time, he must call me himself. I will not tolerate such informality from mere slaves.”
The screen flickered and went dark, leaving Hana and Karri standing in silence. They exchanged a look, their relief palpable. The first step of their plan had succeeded. Now, they could only hope that Sobek would understand—and forgive—their boldness.
Hathor rose from her throne, her mind still lingering on the strange encounter with Sobek’s attendants. There was something about him that intrigued her, something that set him apart from the other System Lords. Perhaps it was his willingness to innovate, to challenge the status quo. Or perhaps it was simply the mystery that surrounded him.
She made her way to the training hall, where a Jaffa warrior awaited her. The man bowed deeply as she entered, his staff weapon held at his side. Hathor had not engaged in physical combat for centuries, preferring to rely on her cunning and the loyalty of her Jaffa. But Sobek’s example had sparked something within her—a desire to reconnect with the strength of her host’s body.
The sparring session was brief but intense. Hathor moved with grace and precision, her movements fluid despite her lack of practice. The Jaffa warrior was skilled, his strikes powerful and deliberate, but Hathor held her own, her reflexes sharp and her instincts honed by centuries of survival. Though she did not win the bout, she emerged from it with a sense of accomplishment that surprised her. The rush of adrenaline, the thrill of combat—it was intoxicating.
As she wiped the sweat from her brow, one of her advisors approached, his expression grim. “Mistress, news has reached us. Apophis has seized control of several systems formerly under Ra’s dominion.”
Hathor’s face darkened, her golden eyes narrowing with displeasure. The fragile peace among the System Lords had shattered, and the race to claim Ra’s territory had begun in earnest. Apophis was bold, his ambition unchecked, and his actions would only escalate the conflict.
