posted October 20, 2017 11:35 PM            

Queen Ankhesenpaaten was thirteen years old and her husband, Pharaoh Tutankhaten was eight years old.
In two years they would change their names to Ankhesenamun and Tutankhamun.
In the darkness they huddled together, fearful of that the Amun priests may seek vengeance upon then for their father's destruction of their religion. The city they inhabited had been named for him, for Pharaoh Akhenaten had in five years of his reign thrown out the worship of the Pagan Gods to instate the worship of the sole sun God; Aten.
Though Ankhesenpaaten knew her half-brother and husband did not take religion as seriously as herself and was not a very pious boy to begin with. Still, her Mother, his step mother had been given a burial according to worship of the sun.
"Tut-Tut," She said.
"Yes Anky." He replied.
"If we are married now shouldn't we be..." And her voice trailed away. Could little boys be capable of such things? And what was it anyway? Meritaten had spoken of it before she left to Babylon but how could Ankhesenpaaten be expected to create such a thing for her husband?
"I know what you mean Anky." He replied and rolled over. They were just little children, Tutankhaten moreso, and their eyes locked as the moon cast a bit of light upon them. Their eyes were their father's eyes. Their faces were his, in fact they looked very much alike and though to the modern reader this would seem a very disgusting and taboo concept, it was the way of the Ancient Egyptians to marry the Crown Prince to the Princess in order to ensure the bloodline was not spoiled.
However, it probably had taken its toll on the boy. His leg was twisted and he needed a cane to walk.
He kissed her and she kissed him back. Both of their lips were large like their father's. But here was the thing, were they kissing as husband and Wife or as the dear brother and sister they had known each other as their whole thus far lives?
"You're beautiful Anky." Came his little cheerful boy voice.
"And so are you Tut-Tut." She laughed.
"We look like Father." He said. Yes, they even had his dark ochre skin.
They kissed again and as children, went beneath the covers to engage in a tickling fight.
Outside their room, the soldiers heard mad shrieks of child laughter.

Britain, specifically the region of modern Norfolk, but what was the tribe of the Iceni, 60 AD

Seegrid and Ros looked down at their baby brother nestled in their mother's arms. Her curly red tresses outline his face. And though like her, his hair was curly, the color was copper-toned.
"Our little joke at?" Boudicca jested. And they both laughed. Prasutagas's hair had been rough and golden and his daughters had been given blond almost silver and sandy tresses. All of them had a different hair color. And now an air of grief swept over the hut remembering the dead Chieftain. Boudicca kissed him.
"The Romans should hold their ***** ." She said. In Seegrid's heart their came a greif because her truest love was a Roman soldier. Still, she knew that the glory of Rome came before her, and always had. So it didn't bother her too much that now that a Prince had been born, the Iceni, and perhaps all the neighboring tribes would be more apt to banish them from Britain.