[Amon/Alex's POV]
A little while later, Amon was sitting in the common room, cleaned, dressed and enhanced. He was wearing a typical Egyptian skirt, a blue and white striped menes on his head, a broad golden necklace around his neck, a thick golden bracelets on his upper-arms and make up on his face.
Merenre had been true to his word. After dragging Amon back to the room he'd woken up in (which turned out to be Amon's private bedchamber), he grabbed some clothes from a baskets and pushed him into the bathroom.
Or maybe, bathroom wasn't the right word. The toilet was a limestone slab with a hole in it and a pot with sand underneath it, which had to be emptied from time to time. There was no such thing as a shower or a bath inside the room. Only a bowl with water and a piece of cotton cloth to wash his face, hands and feet. But honestly, it was quite the luxury considering the time and age. Most people just bathed in the Nile.
"Where are the servants?" Amon had grumbled. Merenre had literally assisted him every step of the way; ran the damp cloth across his sweaty skin, tightened the typical wrap around skirt around his waist, knotted his colourful belt, fastened his necklace and applied his makeup. He was glad his little brother had come to help, but this type of small nothings were the whole reason he employed servants.
"It's because of your temper," Merenre'd answered as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "They were afraid you'd hit them into a stupor. They suspected you'd be in a foul mood, since you'd most likely be hungover today. So they begged me to come and check up on you. But I must say, you're exceptionally well behaved today! You haven't yelled or swung your fists even once. I'm so proud of you brother!"
So, his prehistoric-self had anger management issues? Noted. It explained his aggravation towards Haruw earlier. Alex started to wonder if this whole flashback thing would be a bad influence on himself. Or would he be able to knock some sense into his prehistoric-self?
After Merenre had vanished, a considerable amount of servants had appeared. One had guided him to the room he was currently eating in, others were sweeping floors, baking food, tending to the garden, ... Almost as if the house itself had woken up.
Amon put a piece of bread into his mouth but instead of enjoying the bread, he was distracted by the way his own fist looked. His gaze lingered on his fist, then his arm, then he rolled his shoulder and scraped his throat. Alex was not used to Amon's body yet. This prehistoric version of himself had to be at least six years older. His body was bigger and stronger, like it could take a punch or two.
It truly was a strange sensation, this flashback-leaping; their souls hadn't simply been merged together. There still was a clear distinction between the two. Each one keeping its own set of memories and reasoning. One of the future and one of the past. To Alex it felt as if someone had uploaded a movie into his brain and everything that had happened to the main character had been adopted as memories of his own. Not conflicting, but broadening his experience.
"It looks like the goddess of drunkenness has done a good job this year," two servants whispered to each other a little further in the room. They were probably referring to the story in which Ra fed the angry goddess Sekhmet drunk because she was murdering too many people. After sleeping off her drunken state, she turned into the docile Hathor. It would have been funny, if they hadn't compared him to an angry murdering goddess. It worried him greatly that these servants were so afraid of him that they even hid from him when his mood was foul.
But honestly, Alex kind of understood why Amon was feeling so frustrated. He felt like a caged lion. Coming from a military family, his father had raised him to be a soldier, not an aristocrat. Sadly enough, no-one needed a soldier during times of peace, so the aristocrat was all that remained. Chained to customs and rituals, practically strapped to his throne, while there was nothing he'd rather do than explore the lands he inherited. How could you govern a country if you hadn't seen half of it?
His dear younger brother, Merenre, had been caught in much the same predicament. They'd been sparring partners for a long time, until their father seemed to have realized that Merenre would never make it to the ranks of a general. The life of a soldier didn't suit him, so his education had shifted towards the spiritual path.
Merenre had made it to the rank of high priest a few years before their father's death. Honestly, Merenre had his life pretty well drawn together. With a (lovely) wife and a two year old son. All-in-all, Merenre seemed pretty happy.
He was pulled from his thoughts when said little brother took a seat next to him at the table.
"So," he said, his eyes shimmering with mischief. "Are you going to tell me what's gotten you in such a good mood?"
Amon couldn't help but laugh. Nothing had happened to put him in a good mood. Honestly, he was feeling rather numb at the moment. But he guessed the calm his futuristic-self brought along with it, was a vast improvement over his prehistoric self's destructive behaviour.
It made him wonder how he'd gotten stuck in this situation anyway. Haruw had mentioned something about a dilemma which had caused him to initiate a leap. Alex wished he could remember what the dilemma in question was. The last thing he remembered was going home from the snowball fight, careful not to slip and then, ... everything got blurry. He remembered pain and feeling worried. Otto's face came to mind. Had she been there when he'd lost consciousness? Maybe this was a clue? Maybe she'd made the leap with him?
New resolve coloured his face. He had to find her. But how? Let's see if he could get some wheels into motion. He looked over to Merenre and noticed with a start that his brother had been staring at him instead. Amon scraped his throat feeling embarrassed.
"Well, you see," he stammered, "there might have been a girl."
All the clamour around them in the room suddenly stopped and Merenre's eyes widened comically.
"A girl?!" Merenre choked out. "This is great news! You've never shown any interest in women before. Our Pharaoh has finally chosen a bride! You've long been of marriageable age. Where is this girl? Bring her to me so I can kiss her!"
Amon felt his face heat up. Shit! This was much more embarrassing than he thought it would be. He eyed his brother until he couldn't handle the embarrassment any longer and hid his face in his hands.
"That's the problem," Amon mumbled from behind has hands. "There's a faint chance she wasn't real."
Alex's soul was screaming at Amon that this was a bad idea. That his brother would laugh and say he was crazy.
"What do you mean, not real?" Merenre asked confused.
"Well, I can't remember how I met her or what her name was. I was too drunk. All I know is that she wasn't with me when I woke up," he mumbled still from behind his hands, not bothering to look up.
"Then what did she look like?" Merenre asked, no note of ridicule audible in his voice.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"What makes you say that?"
"She had shining golden hair, as if Ra himself had granted her some of his rays," Amon explained.
"An Egyptian woman with golden hair? That is indeed a very special trait," Merenre said as he rubbed his chin in thought. "It could have been a vision. I could ask the gods about it at the daily ritual. You should come with me. You've neglected your duty towards the gods already for far too long."
Well, that certainly shut the futuristic part of his soul up. A nagging feeling of fear and uncertainty took its place.
As far as Alex could gather from Amon's memories, it was caused by some form of impostor-syndrome. Apparently, he had been deliberately procrastinating his daily duty of paying his respect to the gods as a pharaoh just because he was afraid the gods wouldn't speak to him.
This seemed a rather laughable and illogical fear to Alex. He was pretty certain that whatever statue the people had put up in the temple, it hadn't exactly spoken to any of the previous pharaoh's either.
Then again, Haruw hadn't exactly been a normal bird either, but he couldn't imagine such a powerful being as Haruw patiently waiting in a small and dark room for someone to come and greet it. So it should be ok.
"I think I will," Amon said.
"You will?!" Merenre asked incredulously, yet pleasantly surprised. Amon gave him a brief nod. "This is great news! I'll go prepare immediately, wait for me in front of the temple."
Amon laughed. "I will, thank you brother."