Only The Beginning
By
Christine Hall
Title: Only the Beginning
Author: Christina Hall, aka Trillium
Rating: R for violence, sexual situations, and the usual bad attitudes
Special thanks to Kao Vang for editing and many good suggestions
Disclaimer: The Mummy and the characters therein are the property of
Universal Studios.
No infringement intended. I am making no money off of
this.
Chapter 6
Predictably, Sedet was feeling rather wilted by the heat. She
wanted Anak-sun-amun to help her up the stairs and back to the women's
quarters, which Anak-sun-amun did more or less cheerfully. She was in a
good mood that nothing so trivial as this could disturb. Pharaoh would be
gone for at least two weeks, taking the Med-jai with him, Imhotep had the
most excellent of reasons to be at the palace, and she was not required to
wear paint when she was not in public.
The situation could not possibly have been better. But...what if
she had mistaken Imhotep's intentions? What did he want from her, really?
It was even just possible that Pharaoh had put him up to this, to see where
her true loyalties lay. The thought sobered her. Well, then, she would let
the High Priest make the next move, but as soon as he approached her, there
would be no more games. She would get the answers she needed, and not need
to wonder anymore.
She got Sedet settled, and sat with her a while to be sure that the
old woman was all right. Later, when the fierce heat had abated somewhat,
several other of the palace women went to play Hounds and Jackals on the
porch, and Anak-sun-amun willingly joined them. The board game did pass the
time, and she took a perverse pleasure in beating Tuya quite quickly,
provoking some snide comments from a few and complements on her cleverness
from others.
It was soon time for the evening meal, but the heat of the day had
utterly robbed Anak-sun-amun of her appetite, and instead of going to the
dining hall with the others, she returned alone to the private areas of the
palace. The lamps had just been lit, the faint smell of their smoke filling
the corridors and their warm golden glow caressing the painted figures on
the walls. Anak-sun-amun paused to look up at them, feeling dwarfed in
their presence. She heard a soft sound, like footsteps behind her, but
turning, she saw no one. A little confused, she was about to continue when
an statuesque shape of the High Priest detached itself from the shadow of a
pillar and walked towards her.
"Did enjoy your game?" he asked, reaching out to touch her cheek
lightly. Anak-sun-amun ducked his hand, determined to skip the small talk
and find out exactly what his purpose in paying so much attention to her
was. She also found herself annoyed that, since he knew she and the other
women had been playing Hounds and Jackals, he had probably seen them at some
point, but she had never seen him.
"Why are you doing this?" she demanded. He reached for her a second
time, and she backed up again but found herself against the wall. The High
Priest ran gentle fingers through her hair and settled his hand on the back
of her neck. She couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to feel
his hands all over her body, and her voice dropped to a whisper. "If you
are testing my loyalty to His Majesty, you may stop, for I have already
failed."
"I am not testing you," he said, his fingers gently tracing patterns
on her skin. She closed her eyes in rapture, unable to keep a cool head
while he was touching her. He could make her legs melt from under her
without the slightest effort. It wasn't fair.
"Don't you know what you do to me?" her voice was almost a moan.
Imhotep leaned forward, his breath deliciously warm on her ear.
"You fascinate me, Anak-sun-amun. I want to know every thought in
your mind and every inch of your body. I want the light in your eyes to
never die."
"Imhotep..." it was the first time she had ever called him by his
name, and it fit, somehow, a word meant to be gasped, moaned, and sighed in
the heat of passion. Suddenly she wanted him desperately, more than she had
ever wanted anything else.
She turned her face to him, seeking his lips, and he swept her up
into a confident and insistent kiss that she was only too happy to return.
It was like a whirlwind, destroying her sense of balance and leaving only
him for her to cling to, like a solid rock of support. His hands roamed
up and down her back, then settled on her hips and began to work her skirt
upwards, and she broke the kiss and looked around for someplace else to
continue this. By Isis, they were in a public corridor. Anyone could walk
past at any moment.
Imhotep understood, and started to work them toward the nearest door
even as he captured her lips again. The door was of solid, gleaming gold,
with beautiful, ornate patterns covering it, and it was not guarded now
since its usual occupant was not currently in the palace.
It was the door to the Pharaoh's chambers. Imhotep placed his hand
on the handle and opened it, and they went inside.
It was dark within, except for a faint light coming through the
balcony curtains, but Anak-sun-amun knew this room as well as she knew hers.
Somehow they made their way toward the bed, all roving lips and exploring
hands. Imhotep's robe hit the floor just past the shimmering curtain, and
Anak-sun-amun's dress followed. She moaned as Imhotep found a particularly
sensitive spot on her neck.
"Yes," she encouraged. "Make me forget him."
"Gladly," he murmured as he lay down on the bed and pulled her on
top of him.
Pharaoh was gone for seventeen days, and during that time, Imhotep
and Anak-sun-amun saw each other almost every day, and usually wound up in
the same place, as it was conveniently uninhabited. Imhotep was amazed at
how endlessly inventive Anak-sun-amun was, as if she wanted to defile the
Pharaoh's bed in every delicious way possible. He actually asked her once
if that was the case. She thought about it for a moment before answering.
"I suppose that is a benefit," she concluded, slipping from the bed
and reaching for her clothing. Imhotep was not sure he wanted her to put it
on just yet, so he stood up and put his arms around her from behind,
enjoying the way she relaxed against him. She gave a little laugh.
"What is it?" he asked, diverted from his exploration of the back of
her neck.
"Look," she said, and pointed to the opposite wall, where their
embracing forms were visible in the mirror that hung there.
"Ah," he nodded, and moved them over to get a better look. "You are
beautiful," he stated matter-of-factly, resting his chin on her shoulder
and sliding his hands up over her stomach to cup her breasts.
"It is good to hear that compliment addressed to me and not to His
Majesty." and she turned her head to kiss Imhotep's cheek.
"If it were anyone else, I would send him to meet Osiris before I
let him touch you again."
She turned in his arms to face him. "I hope it will not come to
that. But," she was whispering now, her breath tickling his ear. "I will
find a way to be yours forever."
Imhotep pulled her even closer. "Oh, my treasure, I would do
anything to make it so." And he kissed her, putting all the depth of
feeling he had into that gesture.
Later, when he was alone, he had reason to consider his words again.
How far was he willing to go? He decided that it was a very long way, though
the exact limits of that were still unclear to him. He was certain that he
couldn't live without her. She was like an addictive drug, but far sweeter
than any wine. The taste of her mouth, the blissful feeling of all four of
her long, elegant limbs wrapped around him, the scent of her hair falling
over his face- that was paradise. Nothing else could even come close. And
nothing else was worthy of so great a sacrifice.
He considered the situation, but came up with no good solutions
before the day when Pharaoh and his traveling companions returned, with much
pomp and pageantry and jingling of harnesses. Imhotep reported to Seti that
everything had gone smoothly in his absence, while thinking that if only
Seti knew how smoothly, his life and Anak-sun-amun's would both be forfeit.
But the danger seemed hardly to matter now, swept aside by the hateful fact
that now that Pharaoh had returned, Anak-sun-amun would have to serve his
desires once again, instead of being in Imhotep's arms where she belonged.
The knowledge stuck bitterly in his throat, and he left the palace feeling
subdued, lost in thought, so much so that he nearly bumped into a hurrying
lackey. The man apologized profusely and scuttled away, wondering what
weighty matters caused the High Priest to be so somber today.
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