Chapter Text
A bleary-eyed Cleopatra's lashes fluttered as she embarked on the slow journey to wakefulness.
Groaning and turning her head, she looked outside her window. It was indeed daytime—a typical Mayet morning with flying cars humming and whizzing about, the faint chatter of citizenry multiple stories below, the smell of purified air and future-era plants she still hadn't learned the names of yet.
But whatever. That was every morning. It had taken months for Cleo to get used to such things, girl out of time as she was—but by now it was old hat.
What wasn't old hat, and thus immediately more important, was her realization that her alarm hadn't gone off. Nor was Akila frantically shaking her or screaming in her ear to get up already Cleo you're gonna be late and this time I'm not covering for you I swear (though in the end, she always did). A quick look at her tab told her that it was... 11 in the morning.
It was official: she'd slept in again. On a school day, even.
Cleo smiled.
Yes.
She could get used to this.
With a whoop of excitement, Cleo jumped out of bed, stretching and yawning—and groaned as she felt several dull aches and pains throughout her body. Those aches had been a part of her for the last several days, thanks to a certain climactic battle against a certain galactic overlord, resulting in a certain explosion erupting from her body.
It was an explosion that she'd somehow survived—and she'd bet her entire kingdom back home that Octavian survived it too. Of course, given options between personal explosion containing the slimmest chance of survival, or surefire death at Octavian's hands, the first choice wasn't so bad.
Still.
Every time she felt even a hint of those dull pains...
...Cleo was forced to remember.
Forced to remember being alone on a cold, gray spaceship, without help or backup, staring down a dread despot recalled only in fearful legends by countless people, since the day she'd arrived in this time period.
And all it took was closing her eyes to see Octavian once again, looming over her.
It was his grin that always struck her the most. That wrinkled, unearned, yet wide-as-the-moon grin, accompanying a sheer flippancy and lack of empathy for any life save his own. It was an attitude that made even Cleo look into the metaphorical mirror and wonder if, maybe, she herself was just a little too mean to others sometimes.
You're one girl! He holds all the power! Whatever! Don't show weakness! Don't let him see you shiver!
Simply being in his presence, tasting his malevolence firsthand, made her feel guilty for not being able to do much against him—but more than that, it also made her angry. So angry.
She couldn't help it. Didn't he know what power was truly meant for? It sure as heck wasn't for grinding trillions of innocent people under your heel the way he was doing! Her father would never have done this!
Dad...
So angry. But also, so homesick.
If only Dad were here—he'd know what to do, and tell Octavian off besides! But he's not! It's just me! And I have to do... whatever I can...!
Before Cleo could stop herself, before she knew it was even happening, her anger and sadness, her guilt and homesickness, all came together, swirling in her body as it came in contact with Octavian's mysterious tablet, until she had no choice but to curl inside of herself...
Curl inside, try to hold it in... fail miserably...
Until, finally, the only option left was to simply burst—
With a battle cry, Cleo punched the air, straight and true in front of her, letting out her own mini-explosion in an effort to clear the memories away.
It... partially worked.
She punched, again and again, imagining being surrounded by Xerxes, kicking them into pieces where they stood. Her undone hair and green nightie swayed and flipped every which way, as she played out an imaginary battle sequence in her mind—an impulsive, compulsive kata in the middle of her dorm room.
The memories didn't subside, but they did haze over—just enough to dissolve Octavian's stupid grin, and allow Cleo to think again. To focus. To let that focus drive her, the same way the pain was driving her, as it intensified with every punch, every kick, every exertion, goading her to just try and overcome it, to come on, do better already, to come on, quit trying to hit him and hit him!
The pain intensified. Cleo grit her teeth through it.
This is nothing. It has _to be nothing.
Cleo fought her way to the center of the room, dangerously close to the study table.
I have to get through this. I can't afford to be helpless. I can't afford to be sad. I can't afford to be angry, or feel guilt or pain. Not in front of all those who are counting on me. Not in front of Octavian. He doesn't let himself feel those kinds of things! No one fighting this war does!
With one final deafening cry, Cleo launched herself into a flying kick... right into a stack of books Akila had left out last night. What tomes didn't go flying "cushioned" her fall as she landed in a heap.
Cleo groaned.
Okay... maybe a little bit of pain. Just for now, though.
As Cleo fought through the wooziness to regain her bearings, the doorbell rang. She unearthed herself from the pile of books, and lazily made her way to the door. She checked the hallway camera, fully ready to use the "intercom" to tell them to come back later. That was another thing she actually really liked about the future—the tech made it really easy to not be disturbed if she didn't want to be. Back in Ancient Egypt, she had to just hope that making herself scarce or being really quiet would suffice, and that rarely worked when it came to her father, the Ph—
—Ph-Ph-Pharaoh!
A tall-statured young woman wearing a blue-and-gold regal gown and headdress, could be seen on the hallway-cam's screen. Cleo instantly tensed, darting back and forth across the center of the room.
Pharaoh Yosira! Holy cats! Possibly literally! She can't see me like this! I can't believe I didn't see this coming!
Sure, other students, well-wishers, and even a couple of the administrative cats had visited her, or at least left flowers or messages on her tab when they heard Cleo was "sick" (though usually without knowing why—her battle with Octavian was still a PYRAMID-classified secret)... but none of those people had been Yosira! Not yet! And she was the Pharaoh—of course she'd be interested in talking about this! A battle with Octavian was absolutely something that directly interested the crown!
I should tell her to come back later. That'd be the smart thing to do.
Cleo tensed again.
But what if there's no time? What if it's something important? What if I blow her off and she thinks I don't like her? What if she stops liking me? What— She stopped, gasped for breath, closed her eyes, and held her palms together, in a bid to pursue the zen tranquility that Khensu so often encouraged. Okay, Cleo, just... just calm down. This is a situation like any other, which means it can be solved with a plan, and a calm, simple approach to actio—
With a frantic yell that echoed along the walls, Cleo ran to the bathroom. She looked at the buttons on the wall, then pressed all of the ones that were silver.
"Sonic! Sonic everything!"
Cleo ran into the wash stall for a sonic shower, letting humanly-inaudible sound waves blast away germs—through her clothes, even—at the speed of someone talking really fast. She then ran to the sink and grabbed her sonic toothbrush—which followed the same principle as the shower, only inside her mouth. Then some mouthwash... which wasn't sonic, but the sonic hairstyler sure was, whooshing her hair backwards, then down, pressing it all into place.
She looked in the mirror. It'd do for now. She flashed a cocksure grin.
"Hah," she said to herself. "And you were worried."
Cleo was feeling very proud of herself as she rushed back to the door, and pressed the button for it to slide open. Good news: Pharaoh Yosira was still there.
Bad news: only then did Cleo realize that she was still in her pajamas.
Ahhh, crudbuckets.
Cleo let the door stay open anyway—it was either that or miss her chance for a one-on-one audience with Pharaoh Yosira. Given the dignitary's always-busy schedule, who knew when she'd be able to come back? "Greetings, Your Majesty," Cleo said, doing a small bow.
"Hello, Cleopatra," Yosira said in a formal voice, before quickly looking to either side of herself. Already, some of the Academy's students had started to crowd around, though it seemed they were also attempting to keep a wide berth, with simultaneously as much of and as little subtlety as possible. "May I come in? I appear to be gathering quite an audience, especially given my..." She cleared her throat. "...work clothes."
Cleo poked her head outside to shoot warning looks towards Dennis and E'Geke-Ek'Gek—and stuck out her tongue at Callie, who promptly stuck out her tongue back. After one more smug grin in Callie's direction, Cleo looked back to Yosira and nodded. "Yes, of course, please."
"Thank you." Yosira walked in, the door closing behind her and leaving her and Cleo alone together yes. Cleo could barely contain her excitement, but managed to do so with the effort of someone trying to not eat the last whorlflat on Tiliamak Tuesday.
"I'm happy to see you again," Cleo said, doing her best to perform what bit of a curtsy she could do in her pajamas. "Sorry I'm not more, uh... in my own work clothes."
Yosira blinked. "Why would you be?" she asked, eyeing Cleo with a sincerely wide-eyed expression and inquisitive tone. "After hearing everything that happened, I certainly wouldn't expect you to be working."
Cleo stopped in her tracks, scratching her head. "R-right. Y-yeah, I... I-I guess when you put it like that, it would make sense, but I just thought it'd be, y'know, courteous to i-inform the crown—"
Yosira cut off her stammering. "Cleo."
Cleo stood stock still. "Yes, Your Majesty?" she squeaked. Ugh, why was she like this? It was good that Yosira was here! Why couldn't she act like it?
Yosira looked up and down Cleo's tense, almost trembling form. "Hmmm." She pulled up the sleeve of her robe, then tapped her wrist, revealing her tab. With a few more beep-laden taps against floating icons, her gown shimmered out of existence, replaced with a pink sweater and blue pants.
Cleo gaped. So that's how Yosira did it before. Did her tab have that? If not, Cleo wanted it! Could she make Brian update it to the latest version? Or maybe code the feature from scratch entirely? All it would take would be a few armbars, maybe a little blackmail...
...or she could be less of an Octavian and just ask him, a lot, until he agreed. With no violence or espionage, because he was technically her friend. In the back of her mind, Cleo sighed and rolled her eyes. Fighting was supposed to be cathartic—she really hadn't signed up for growing an overactive conscience in the bargain.
"There's no need to stand on attention, Cleo," Yosira said. "Or even to address me by my station. We are both royal peers, are we not?"
"I..." Cleo started, then fought for the right words. Yosira's voice was reassuring... but still. "Yeah, but I'm in your, uh, jurisdiction, aren't I?"
Yosira's eyes glinted, and that playful smile, that Cleo already knew came part and parcel with the monarch, manifested. "Shall I call you 'Her Highness, Princess Cleopatra', then? Every single time I address you? She stepped forward, leaning in towards Cleo, lilting,"Priiiiiinnnn-cess Cleopa-traaaaaaaa—"
"...oh no." Instantly, Cleo heard nails on a chalkboard in the back of her skull. "Oh, gods, I hate it. I hate it so much—"
"Princess Cleopatraaaaaaa," Yosira repeated, gesturing and twirling in a small circling dance around Cleo, her voice still in teasing sing-song. "Princess Cleopatra, Princess Cleopatra, Her Royal Highness to Be Worshipped Amongst the Stars for Her Title Instead of as a Person Whether She Likes It or Not, Princess Cleopatra—"
Cleo finally darted to Yosira, clamping her hand over the ruler's mouth, all thoughts of 'courtesy' finally having flown the coop. "Okayokayyouvemadeyourpoint," she said, her words coming out at the speed of light (don't ask). "I give, I give! Please, just no more torture!"
Yosira giggled, gently tugging at Cleo's hand in removal. "I would never. Torture isn't my thing, even when met with enemies of the crown." She stood in front of Cleo, gazing with intent. "But, I hope the point is clear: you don't have to address me by anything but my first name. Simply 'Yosira' will do."
She placed her hand on Cleo's shoulder. It was warm. "Please," Yosira said, her tone sincere and tender. "Consider it a royal request, if you wish."
Cleo could feel that warmth spreading throughout her body, and decided to throw caution to the wind. "Is it all right if I... just consider it something that would make us both happy?"
Slowly, Yosira smiled. "Now you're catching on."
Cleo smiled back. The warmth was now ripples.
"Now that the matter of nomenclature is settled," Yosira said, putting her hand to her heart, "please allow me to apologize for being so late to see you. I was halfway across the Nile Galaxy when word of your exploits reached me—but the moment I heard of your physical, one-on-one battle, against Octavian of all entities, I lightspeed-jumped back to Mayet, only to find out you were resting, because of course one would be." She put her index fingers to her chin, furrowing her brow. "I certainly didn't know how much rest one would require after... um... so, Khensu said you 'exploded'?"
"Kinda sorta," Cleo said with a chuckle. "Okay, yeah, kinda literally. Ancient Egyptian magic goes weird or goes home."
"Goodness," Yosira said. "I've witnessed my share of unexplained phenomena whilst fighting Octavian myself, but this might be top five. Still, I deliberated about what to do, for hours, before finally telling myself, 'Cleo would want all of the care she can get. I know I would.' So... here I am," she finished, finally remembering to breathe after, and only after, she'd said her entire piece.
Now it was Cleo's turn to blink. "Uh. Yosira?"
"Erm..." Yosira tapped her fingers together, her eyes darting back and forth. "...yes?"
Cleo's smile was slanted. "Yeah, it's only been a week since I woke up from 'exploding'." She shrugged. "Given what little I now know about space travel? Trust me, you literally couldn't have shown up any faster. From your perspective, or mine."
An entire galaxy's worth of tension seeped out of Yosira, not unlike a balloon. "Oh, thank you for saying that," she said, her hands cradling her head. "I am... I am glad. Simply, so happy. That you're okay, that is."
Cleo kept her smile. "So am I. Might wanna watch out for Khensu, though. He hasn't let me go anywhere."
At that, Yosira laughed—an honest to goodness laugh, as opposed to her usual dainty giggles. "Yes, yes. That is, alas, his job. That feline parents more intensely than most parents I know."
"Tell me about it!" Cleo said, counting on her fingers. "He won't let me do combat practice, he won't let me out to run around, heck, he'll barely let me get out of bed! He and Akila definitely want me to do homework until the heat death of the universe, though." She crossed her arms, side-eyeing the pile of study materials that still lay in a crumple not too far from the main table, and huffed.
Yosira followed Cleo's gaze. "Oh, my. What happened there?"
"Um," Cleo shrugged and blushed, hand behind her head. "Been... hitting the books?"
Yosira laughed again. "That's certainly one way to do it! I'll have to remember that tactic for myself the next time studying planetary customs gets too tough!" Without warning, but with a joyful squeal, Yosira punched, then kicked the air. Thankfully, Cleo dodged just in time.
"Ha! That'll show them!" Yosira said, her fists raised, and her voice breathy and triumphant. "Wow. That was cathartic—and I don't even have my books in front of me! My imagination was enough!" She looked at Cleo, who could swear she saw sparkles in the pharaoh's golden eyes. "Thank you, Cleo. I learn something wonderfully new every time we encounter each other."
Cleo's blush reddened but no longer from embarrassment. Fortunately, her smile grew too, hiding it somewhat.
It's official: someone in this time period gets me. Like, really gets me. Didn't chance on it being the ruler of the whole galaxy, but... maybe I should have.
"But, yes, to get back on track," Yosira continued, "none in the Nile Galaxy are quite as good at doting than Khensu—he would do it to me whenever I pushed myself too far, and didn't want to rest on my laurels in the name of recovery. Fortunately for him, I do know that it's out of a place of love—a love which he only knows how to express in his own way."
Cleo nodded. "Yeah. I can see that. I think that's why I haven't gotten too mad at him about it either. Just a... little mad."
"I understand. Still, he doesn't need to know everything... or be everywhere." Yosira's eyes twinkled again. "Certainly not this morning. So I sent him on an errand. Involving his favorite brand of kibble."
"Wait, you actually know his favorite brand?" Cleo said. "I've been trying for months to find that out!"
"It's a royal secret," Yosira said. "To say nothing of a negotiation survival technique."
"I'll say!" Cleo huffed. "That cat is impossible to bribe. Or distract. Or manipulate. He's very killjoy like that. But wait—why did you want your visit to be a secret from him? Aren't you here to, I dunno, debrief me or something? I can't believe I'm saying it, but... shouldn't he actually be here for this?"
In a silent reply, Yosira took Cleo's hands in hers.
Once again, those hands were warm. And soft. Well-moisturized, even. She looked up, to see Yosira already gazing down, perfectly level, to Cleo's eyes. Cleo exhaled—a breath she hadn't seen coming.
She was barely conscious of her breathing at all, in fact—which, given how deeply she was breathing right now, was a feat.
As much as Yosira professed to be a student of Cleo's adventurous ways, the truth was that such sentiments flowed just as intensely in the opposite direction as well. With a simple look, with a simple touch, with just the right combination of words, Pharaoh Yosira never failed to have an... effect on Cleo, every time they met. It was an effortless charm, a natural charisma, that compelled attention and adoration—both of which Cleo found herself more than willing to give, in the space of a moment.
At any moment.
And every time it happened... it left Cleo breathless, in the moment. It was another thing, Cleo knew, that she wished to possess for herself. If only she knew the slightest place to start.
"Khensu utterly loathes to see others engage in... indulgences," Yosira said, her grip gently firming, her thumbs caressing the back of Cleo's hands... and her breaths deepening as much as Cleo's. "And while it is true that I naturally want to hear every piece of intel you gleaned from your battle, I also wanted to..."
Yosira trailed off. She walked to Cleo's bed, leading Cleo alongside her in the process. When they arrived in front of the bed, Yosira gestured towards it with a small, inviting smile. "Please, make yourself comfortable. You are meant to be resting, are you not?"
Cleo's eyebrows furrowed, and her expression slanted. She could feel her heart threatening to sink. She'd already been told to stay in bed so much. Heck, they'd just talked mere minutes ago about how much they hated being confined to quarters!
What was this, then?
Confusion reigned in Cleo's mind. Maybe Yosira didn't understand her after all? Maybe she'd just been trying to say the nicest words possible, to make Cleo feel better? Yosira was a diplomat. Persuasion was, like, her thing.
With a sigh, Cleo looked to Yosira, fully ready to protest... and was met with a wink.
"Trust me," Yosira whispered.
Curiosity kicked confusion out the window. Cleo still wasn't a fan of the proposition, but she decided to get back in bed anyway, pulling the covers over herself. If nothing else, the fluffy mattress and linens were comfortable after exerting herself for a while—far more comfortable than anticipated. Still didn't mean she wanted to stay here forever though.
She looked back to Yosira... to see her pulling up a chair? "Uh, Yosira? What're you doing?" Cleo asked.
Yosira came back to Cleo's bed with the chair, which she slid to one side. She then produced a small object from her sweater pocket, holding it out in front of herself just long enough for Cleo to see that it was a small cube. It shone in the light, multicolored and metallic.
Okay, yeah. Definitely a future-y thing.
Yosira pressed her index finger against the side of the cube, and dropped it... only for Cleo to watch it abruptly halt its descent. It floated in midair, spinning slowly. It then kept spinning, faster and faster, and began growing in size as well. Yosira stepped back, and both watched as it spun, and hummed, and whirred, and grew, and glowed...
"Shield your eyes," Yosira said, closing her own.
Cleo turned around in bed and put her pillow in front of her face, just in time for the glow to obscure everything in the room with its intensity.
When the light died down, Cleo gaped.
A veritable feast was in front of her.
There were gels of all colors and in all designs, adorning meats, fruits and vegetables—most of which she didn't recognize, a few she did. She'd have to start with the melons she spied, and venture out from there.
But still.
Cleo darted back to a sitting position. She knew what this was now. She looked up at the pharaoh, gratitude back in her eyes—just in time to see a deeply-blushing Yosira putting the finishing touches on the table with a vase of pink flowers, and pulling up her chair to sit across from Cleo.
"I... tried to think of what would most feel like home for you, as a princess," Yosira said at last. "In the end, I concluded that I myself would be the closest touchstone. And I know that when I'm recovering, I feel most at home when people who I know care about me, care for me, for no other reason than that they wish to—regardless of who I might otherwise be, or what titles I may hold.
"It is a privilege I know I possess, but one that I still strive to bring to all of my subjects, regardless of class, of species..." Yosira smiled. "...or of temporal immigrant status. "Thus, I took the liberty of procuring the most well-known cuisines from across the entirety of the Nile Galaxy. I would wager, given your abrupt arrival in this time period, that such a sampler has been long overdue for you."
It was. It absolutely was.
When Cleo had been enrolled in PYRAMID—bit of a snap judgment on a lot of folks' parts, there—she quickly learned that lunch was her least favorite part of the day. It had been encounter after encounter of mystery platter after mystery platter, which she was expected to put in her body without question—mainly because people had gotten tired of her questions (and because she was supposed to remain low-key about her true identity, so acting too much like a girl out of time was just a bad idea). Eventually she'd just given up and eaten whatever tasted the least bad, which wasn't much—or whatever was the least slimy, which was even less.
But nothing looked slimy on this table, and some things—even things she didn't recognize—actually looked colorful. Juicy. Appetizing.
Again—what was this?
Cleo looked to Yosira, beaming, fully lost in the pharaoh's charisma once more.... that is, until the exact moment that charisma broke down entirely, and Yosira's countenance shrank back.
"I-I mean... b-but that is, only if you wish to partake, of course," Yosira said, her voice shaky, and her eyes darting back and forth again. "I-it was the best I could think of, especially given the short notice, b-but I wholly understand if it's not what you're used—"
"Are you kidding? Yosira, this is incredible! I so do wish to partake!" Cleo exclaimed, grabbing the utensils on the table and preparing to dive in with gusto—
Only for her body's energy reserves to completely leave her in the space of a second. The wooziness returned, the fatigue rose like a monster, roaring in the back of her mind, audible only to her but effective across a body that refused to obey her commands. "Uggggghhhhhhh..." she groaned, holding her palm to her forehead as her body wavered back and forth.
"Cleo!" Instantly, Yosira was at Cleo's side, bracing her with both hands. "Cleo! Are you all right?"
Cleo shook her head. She really wasn't.
No matter what she did, no matter how much she rested, no matter how much she pushed herself, no matter how much she tried to act like things were normal, or would eventually be...
True, it'd only been a week since she'd woken up, but according to Khensu, she'd been in a coma for that same amount of time on top of it. And she still fell like a space freighter had run over her. What kind of "progress" was that? Was she getting better? Was she getting worse? She didn't know.
And it shook her to her foundations. Cleo didn't like being shaken in any manner, but certainly not by something she couldn't shake back.
"I hate this," she croaked, no longer holding back. "I hate 'recovering'. Things were so easy before..." She could feel tears threatening to form at the corners of her eyes, her throat becoming one huge lump. She hated that too. "Before all this. Back when I was home. Back when all I needed to be... was a princess. Now I'm..." Her breath caught on the words. "I'm not enough for anything, now. I'm dead weight! I hate it!"
The room fell silent after her words. Just as well. Cleo hated how she sounded right now. Her head drooped. She closed her eyes. Did she have anything left to give? And even if she gave it...
...would it matter?
Slowly, Cleo felt Yosira's arms move from merely bracing, to a full embrace around her frame. She felt Yosira squeeze her softly, with a tenderness that even hugs from her father, who Cleo knew loved her with all his heart, could scarcely communicate.
And, after a long time, heard Yosira's reply, in a shaking whisper:
"So many times I've said those exact words. Ever since I was a little girl."
Cleo hadn't expected that, but she was still too far gone to react. All she could do was sink into Yosira's arms, and allow Yosira to cradle her.
"Your present physical plight, your present emotional plight... I know how lonely the suffering feels, Cleo." Yosira's soft, forlorn voice continued to be the softest, and only, sound in the room. "The crushing weight on your heart, that feels like so, so much, and that feels like it'll never end. I've felt every single bit of it, too, for so long... for years. But even a week of it is something no one should ever have to endure."
Cleo sniffled, letting out tears into Yosira's sweater sleeve. It didn't matter at this point. Yosira was right. The pain of trying to adapt to circumstances she never asked for, of trying to keep herself under a low profile, of missing her family, of never feeling strong enough to overcome the hardships of an entire galaxy, much less the ones which lay within herself...
...Yosira did understand. All of it.
And Cleo no longer possessed the strength or motivation to protest otherwise, only quietly whimper—prompting Yosira to hold Cleo closer when she heard it.
"I'm so sorry that this has been so hard, and so painful," Yosira said. "You deserve so much better. All I can do is speak from experience: things will get better. I cannot tell you when, or even how—only that it will. Your days will be brighter again, and you'll be able to stand on your own two feet, to fight, and lead, and do all of the other things that make you happy. Both of us will.
"And on the journey towards those days, Cleopatra, and even beyond... I'll be with you." Yosira turned Cleo to face her, and wiped the princess's eyes with a handkerchief, before then tending to her own with another. "I promise."
Cleo wanted to thank Yosira. She truly did. But every time she opened her mouth, all that escaped were choked sobs. It wasn't long before it was just too much, and she felt herself flying back into Yosira's arms...
...just as, once more, there was no option but to simply burst.
And true to her word, Yosira stayed with Cleo, until her cries were spent.