Sekhemkhet's Promise Pt. 00: Sekhemkhet's Curse

Hey! How's everyone doing? This is just a quick foreword for you – this story is definitely not historically accurate (Henutsen was a queen consort in the 4^th dynasty, whereas Djoser and Sekhemkhet were both Pharaohs in the 3^rd dynasty. I just needed a name that wasn't too difficult to pronounce), but a lot of the details are true, and can be found on Wikipedia. The other thing is that this story is very different to Becoming Queen, and this is also a one-off story. I might one day do a sequel, but I doubt it. This came purely from the fact that I was watching The Mummy (Young Brenden Fraser, yum!) and I was horny.

Enjoy!

*****

It was hot. Too hot.

Jesus, Anabeth thought, struggling to breath the dry desert air. Why the hell didn't we do the expedition in winter?

"Come on Beth," Charles shouted from about twenty feet ahead of her. "I thought you were eager to prove yourself?"

Huffing, she glared at his back. Charles was Beth's older brother and he had a way of getting under her skin.

Anabeth was the youngest of four children and the only daughter of Edward Brightbury – the curator for the British Museum in London. He had held the position since 1901, for four years, but had yet to make a real mark on the world of archaeology. This year he had decided that Egypt was an egg waiting to be cracked open and intended to find the burial grounds of Sekhemkhet – an ancient Egyptian Pharaoh of the third dynasty.

Beth's two other brothers were studying towards becoming doctors. At just twenty years old, Beth had finished her education, but was attempting to get accepted into Cambridge to further her studies in Ancient Egypt. Edward's eldest son, Charles, was thought of as a protégé of sorts – he knew more about ancient Egypt than anyone in Britain. Except, perhaps, Anabeth.

She had studied her father's books since she could read. Her passion was one day to step into her father's position as curator of the museum, but it would be a challenge – being a woman and all. The other major problem lay in the gentleman who was vying for her hand in marriage. Robert was very handsome, and very wealthy, but he wasn't overly nice. He detested the idea of Beth continuing her education, which was a dilemma that she struggled to overcome.

Everyone assumed that they would be engaged soon. Her mother sighed whenever Beth told her how she truly felt about him and simply replied. "You'll do what's best for the family." With the family in mind, she lifted her skirts and followed her father and brother, along with the servants and local experts, to the supposed burial site of Sekhemkhet.

The desert stretched in all directions, barren and monotonous. It always amazed Beth that so long-ago people managed to survive in these conditions. The Egyptians had even strived, making such great leaps and bounds in medicine and science. Beth tried not to think of the slavery aspect of their great kingdom. It was a huge, filthy spot on their greatness.

The group stopped once they reached the pyramid of Djoser – a weather beaten structure, but grand nonetheless. "We'll set up camp here," Edward announced, having his interpreter tell the others to begin preparations.

Beth's father believed that Sekhemkhet's remains lay in Saqqara, near to that of his predecessor's Djoser. Beth believed this was as good a place as any to look, but she didn't understand why it hadn't been found already. Djoser's tomb was a grand pyramid, complete with an enclosure wall and a trench around it all. Why didn't Sekhemkhet have such a lavish burial place?

According to Ancient Egyptian beliefs, the tomb in which a person was buried in was not just a grave. Its entire purpose was to facilitate a successful afterlife for the king so that he could be eternally reborn. To not receive this would be due to dishonour so great that it was almost inconceivable.

Beth, her father, Charles and the experts all began to walk while the campsite was being erected. The temperature had peaked about an hour ago, and so Beth was able to brave the open air for a little longer. Her full skirts didn't help her situation at all and she envied the trousers that the men wore.

There was little to see in any direction, and so the walk was called to an end as soon as camp was set up. The real fun would begin tomorrow when the digging started.

Beth had been mistaken when she had thought that the day held the worst of the heat. It seemed, even with the cooling night, the tent had a clawing heat that she couldn't escape. Unable to get comfortable, she threw the sheets off herself in frustration.

An idea began to form in her head – one that she was wary of, due to the many ways that it could go wrong. What if she were to go for a stroll? Just a short walk in the night air. It would surely cool her down and allow her to sleep.

For some reason, Beth felt as though she was up to no good, doing something terrible that she would get in trouble for. She was grateful that she was the only female on the expedition and, as such, had her own tent.

Admonishing herself for her foolishness, Beth slipped on her shoes and wrapped a night coat around herself.

There was a definite breeze outside, which surprised her. Why had it not penetrated the tent? Outside the tent there was a hanging gas light, which she carefully removed as she set off on her walk, promising herself that she wouldn't go too far.

The camp was silent – even the men charged with keeping watch had fallen asleep. The small group didn't have many valuable things with them, but the locals warned Beth's father that he should set up a guard anyway. Apparently, thieves would target the Western group and they weren't averse to being aggressive if they had to be.

The wind blew very gently, as though it was caressing Beth. It came around her ears, as though it was a whisper.

Beth could have sworn that there was a voice on the wind, but it was too faint to be sure. She knew she was being silly – a young woman, alone in a foreign environment, who had just been thinking of thieves and looters. It was only natural for her to –

"Henutsen," Beth spun in shock, checking behind her. She had certainly heard a voice this time.

There was no one there, though. She held the light up as high as she could and, though it didn't illuminate very far, she was sure that there was nothing there.

Her walk had taken her over the crest of a small hill, leaving the camp site just out of sight. The path wound down slightly in a curve that Beth was sure had not been there when the group were investigating this area during the day.

Beth angled the light at the rocks. There seemed to be some sort of an opening further down the path – something that she was absolutely certain had not been there before.

"Annie?" Edward, Beth's father, called before she could follow the path. His voice was coming from back at the camp, so he couldn't see her yet, at least.

"I'm here!" She called, beginning to run back. For some strange reason she hated the idea of someone finding her little path. It was her secret – something that she could share with them tomorrow as her own find.

"What on earth were you doing?" Edward demanded, seeing his daughter scurry back from so far away. "It's dangerous out here – you know that."

"I'm sorry, I needed some air."

Edward nodded, seemingly uninterested in her reasoning so long as she was safe.

"Back to bed," he ordered, before taking the lamp from her and returning to his own tent.

Beth sighed, disappointed that her adventure had to end. Without the lamp she had no chance of finding her way back to that exact spot. She spun on her heel and entered her tent again.

Beth removed her night coat and shoes and lay on the bed, suddenly overcome with a wave of fatigue, only to sit up again. Something was digging into her back.

She pulled a small rock from on top of her thin mattress, unable to see what exactly it was without a light. Whatever it is, it'll have to wait until morning, she told herself, lying back and allowing sleep to wash over her.

The first chance that Beth had the next day, she retraced her footsteps down to the little path, only to find it gone. She tried the same walk twice, before rationalising that the opening must have been a figment of her imagination as there was clearly nothing there.

It was a day of disappointment for Edward. Nothing had been found in any direction, despite extensive digging. Not even a small piece of pottery.

Beth felt awful seeing her father in such a state of disappointment and wished that she could have found the opening again. She had refrained from telling anyone about it, afraid to get people's hopes up when she knew that there was nothing there anymore.

It was after dinner, as her father and the local expert had a debate over the validity of ancient Egyptian deities, that Beth remembered the rock from her bed.

Excusing herself, she ran from the dining tent and back to her own tent. The rock was on the floor, just under the metal frame of the bed.

On closer inspection, Beth realised it wasn't a stone at all. It was a mummified Scarab beetle.

Without questioning it, Beth ran back to the dining tent, finding her father and the local man exactly as she left them.

"Father," she interrupted. Normally she would have waited, but this was too important.

Edward looked annoyed, but his eyes lit up when he saw what was in her hands. "Where did you get that?"

Beth began to tell the truth but stopped herself. Who would really believe her if she told them that it had magically appeared in her bed last night?

"When I was walking last night, I picked it up. I didn't realise what it was until now."

It wasn't a ground-breaking find, but it was something that might lift her father's spirits slightly.

"Where exactly did you find it?" The local man asked. "Scarab beetles are notoriously found inside tombs. It's unusual that one would be found so far from civilisation unless there was a tomb near-by."

"Just over the hill," Beth replied. Her gut clenched and twisted, making her feel nervous to the point of illness. For some strange reason she really did not want to tell them where the tomb was.

"It's too dark now to follow the path, but we will go in the morning," Edward smiled at his daughter. She hoped this would earn her an edge over her brother.

Charles had been reading most of the day. He claimed that he might be able to find hints as to where the tomb was from his books, but Beth knew better. Charles had given up on the search. He believed that Sekhemkhet was never awarded the burial that was rightfully his. "We would be able to see a pyramid by now if he was, Annie," he had told his sister the day before.

The group retreated to their tents for the night – a few remained around the fire at the centre of camp. They spoke in Arabic and so Beth couldn't understand them, but they seemed worried – almost suspicious, and they kept looking at her with uncertainty.

Perhaps they are irritated by my presence, she hypothesised. After all these men are still very conservative with their women.

Beth thought no more of it as she returned to her tent.

Beth lay in bed reading for a few hours. She had no intention of going to sleep, really. She wanted to walk again. It wasn't a conscious decision, it was more of a pull towards the opening in the rocks – an insatiable curiosity as to whether or not it had been real.

The side of the tent bowed in on a gust of wind, but still the tent itself was so close with heat that it was difficult to stand it. Beth knew she was being absurd, but she had this idea in her head that there was something out there trying to lure her back to the path.

She waited ten more minutes, in the hopes that her father would be asleep and not catch her this time. When she left the tent, she found that the guards stationed around the fire were once again sound asleep – just like the night before.

"Henutsen," the wind blew past her, taking the name with it. From what Beth could read up on during the day Henutsen was queen consort to Sekhemkhet's father Djoser – the Pharaoh in the pyramid that could be seen from camp. There was no more about her than that.

Beth looked around but there wasn't a gas lamp to be seen. The one outside her tent had seemingly run out of oil at some point.

Squaring her shoulders, Beth thought that she knew the path well enough to follow it by heart, without the light. At least she hoped she did.

No more than five minutes later, Beth felt almost nauseous. There it was – the path and the opening, just as she remembered it. But what was truly unnerving was the light coming from the opening, without which Beth wouldn't have been able to see it.

Whether or not it was the smart thing to do, Beth knew she had to go in. Whatever it was in there wanted her to find it and no one else.

Anabeth took her first step into the hole. It was the tomb of Sekhemkhet, this she was certain of.

Inside was a tunnel, with paintings along the walls. Beth took little notice of them, however. The light seemed to be coming from the end of the tunnel and the closer she got, the further away it drifted.

Further in was more of a maze – the corridor changed direction, but the light guided her a certain way. Beth was becoming increasingly anxious – she wouldn't be able to find her way back out of here if the light disappeared.

What had she been thinking? Turning around, she looked back the way she came but it was complete darkness – it was already too late to turn back. She began to run towards the light source, hoping that it would take her to another exit.

She had to stop suddenly.

Beth had caught up with the light source.

A room – opulent and grand beyond anything she had ever seen was before her. Paintings adorned the walls in vibrant colours – not at all in decay – and there was gold everywhere.

Sconces hung on the walls, illuminating the room and chasing away any cold or damp that could accumulate over the years.

As though in a trance, Anabeth walked further into the room, looking around. The sound of a stone door closing didn't even make her flinch. The room was too beautiful to look away from.

On the wall farthest from the door was a shrine to the Goddess Isis. In the centre was a stone table with a golden jug on top. When Beth walked towards it to look in, a voice filled the room.

It was soft, and loving, and it wasn't speaking English, but somehow, she could understand it. "Drink, my love, and you may join me."

As though all reason had flown from her head, Anabeth lifted the jug to her lips and took a deep drink.

The cool liquid seared her throat in pain – it was so cold it was almost acid. Beth began to cough, choking, trying to get the liquid to come back out, to relieve herself of the feeling but it was too late. The liquid had reached her stomach.

Beth sank to her knees on the floor, bending at the waist and holding her stomach tightly. Was this death? Had she unknowingly poisoned herself?

The pain lasted only a minute, but it could have been a lifetime, for when it finally stopped and Beth could breathe again, she felt as though she had been there on the floor for hours.

Before she could look up, a pair of feet were in front of her.

A dark golden colour, she raked her gaze up, over the legs, past the white cloth around the waist, over the chest, and into the eyes of a dazzling man.

In her heart she knew it must be Sekhemkhet, but it was so impossible that she couldn't allow herself to believe it.

"Am I dead?" She asked in a small voice.

The man smiled before speaking in that foreign language again. "You are not dead, Henutsen, you are very much alive. But you are able to see the dead. To feel the dead, for a short while."

"I am not Henutsen," Beth began. The man simply cocked his head to the side.

"Of course, you are not. You are Henutsen reborn. You do not have her memories, but you have her spirit."

The man offered her his hand to pull her off of the floor, which she gratefully accepted.

As soon as their hands touched, a spark flew through her. There was something undeniably erotic about this situation. His hand was so large it enveloped her own almost completely.

Sekhemkhet was so handsome it almost hurt to look at him. His eyes were a deep brown colour, almost black, matching his long hair, which just touched his shoulders. It was wavy and pushed behind his ear on one side. His high cheekbones were sharp, so like his square jaw, but such a contrast to his full, soft lips.

He was what she imagined an angel would look like if they had the good grace to visit her.

"Why did you bring me here?" Beth asked, but she thought she might already know. It was a terrifying mix of anticipation and complete dread that had her pulse racing so fast as she waited for an answer.

"I cannot lie to you, my Henutsen. I wish to be reborn. And for that there must be a sacrifice."

He's going to kill me, Beth thought. Before she could think again, she let go of his hand and flew to the door, scraping at the edges with her nails, trying to pry it open.

Sekhemkhet's hand rested on her hip and she screamed, kicking and throwing her fists at him. She had never learned how to fight or protect herself, but she was going to try.

"Be calm, my love, I cannot do it unless you are willing."

Beth stopped screaming. Who would willingly die? She turned to look at him, thinking he was crazy. No, that's not right, she thought. I'm the one who's crazy. This can't really be happening.

Sekhemkhet's hand began to graze her waist, lifting her skirt with it gently. It gave her shivers, but she didn't know if it was the good kind or the bad kind.

"Have you known the touch of a man, my love?" He asked, bringing his other hand to the other hip. Both of his hands span the width of her waist and she felt dwarfed by him.

She was facing him totally now and she had to tilt her neck all the way back to look into his eyes.

"No," she finally quietly replied. There was no way out of here, she realised unless he wanted her to leave. "Please don't hurt me," she whispered, tears beginning to escape the corners of her eyes.

One of his hands released her hip and came up to raise her chin and then cup her cheek. "I could never hurt you, Henutsen." Slowly, his lips came down onto hers and he was kissing her.

Immediately she felt herself become excited. She had never had this sort of contact with a man. A kiss of the cheek, of course, but not the feeling of his large hand burning through the thin material of her night gown. He moved the hand on her cheek to the back of her head, combing through her long, loose hair to make a fist, pulling her head back.

A moan escaped her throat, and her hands came to rest on his stomach.

There was heat pooling between her legs and she could feel her pulse racing violently. She had never felt this before – this total excitement but laced with such heavy dread.

Sekhemkhet pulled away from her mouth only to kiss her cheek and then her neck. Beth's eyes drifted shut as he began to suck and lick and nuzzle at the sensitive area just below her ear. Her throat was releasing noises that she was incapable of stopping.

His hand drifted to her backside, squeezing and kneading the flesh. It was all so new and foreign that Beth didn't know what to do with her hands.

Sekhemkhet pulled her away from the door and to the centre of the room. His fingers began to tease her nipples through the fabric of her night gown, rolling the hard nubs, pulling them and squeezing them. Her head fell back as he removed her nightgown, unlacing the ties at the front and slipping it off of her shoulders. His eyes darkened when he saw her bare form in front of him and a growl escaped his lips.