Sekhemkhet's Promise Pt. 02

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.

*****

Part Two as promised!

The museum came into view and Anabeth was more than just a little impressed. A great building of terracotta-coloured stone stood tall in front of a garden filled with exotic flowers. The detail was minimal in comparison to the great buildings in England and yet so similar, with statues of women framing the large entry. The building couldn't have been more than ten years old, but it was a beauty, nonetheless.

Peter offered Anabeth his hand as she stepped out of the carriage, once they had pulled up to the front of the door, but barely touched her palm. There was a small frown on his face as though touching her troubled him. Beth tried not to read too much into it.

The inside of the building was as lovely as the outside. Cool, white marble spanned the length and breadth of the first great room, flanked by sand-coloured pillars. To Anabeth's disappointment the artefacts on display were sparse and uninspiring. This museum needed an exhibit worthy of its stature.

"Miss Brightbury?" A heavy accent greeted them from a discrete door on the left of the room. The door blended so well with the sand-coloured stone that it took a moment for Anabeth to find the man.

"Yes," Beth smiled warmly. The man was clearly a native, though he was dressed as though to embody the British. A shame, she thought. The native clothes here look so much cooler than a three-piece suit.

"I am Karim," he smiled back. "We are ready to begin the meeting, if you'll follow me."

Anabeth moved to the door, Peter and Mr Banks following closely behind her.

"Karim is a friendly man," Peter whispered behind her. "Akhenaten's right-hand man if you will. He is the only one who he really speaks with."

"Why does a descendant need a right-hand man?" Anabeth questioned as they climbed a discreet set of stairs.

"The power they wield seems quite great," Mr Banks replied. "It is as though among the natives Akhenaten is a sort of aristocrat. A duke among their personal hierarchy."

"And what is Akhenaten's full name? I cannot go in and address him as that," Anabeth whispered to Peter.

"No one knows. He hasn't yet done formal introductions with any British men. He refuses to speak to them directly, and his men simply refer to him as Akhenaten."

Beth felt a sense of tension over the matter. Of course, the English men would be offended by any native in a colony considering themselves in a higher position than a Brit.

Karim led them through a hallway with large wooden doors on either side. It was long and narrow with a huge pained window at the end, which somehow managed to light the full corridor. The doors on the right stopped halfway down, besides one final door which Karim opened for them.

Anabeth could feel her stomach flipping around itself. She had never conducted a meeting of such great importance. So much was resting on her shoulders she wondered what would happen if she made a mistake. One tiny mistake could ruin everything for her.

The room inside was panelled with a rich red-brown wood on the floor and walls. A great table sat in the centre with chairs placed all around. Surrounding the table were men in all manners of dress, though it was clear that the British men were not conversing with the Egyptians.

"Miss Anabeth Brightbury, and company," Karim announced to the room as though they were entering a 19^th century ball. She could feel Peter bristle beside her as though by not announcing his name he was any less important.

The crowd turned to look and Anabeth scanned the room, stopping on one particular face.

Her first thought was why her legs hadn't given up. Should she not have fainted? Was that not the only appropriate response?

Staring at her was a man identical to Sekhemkhet's ghost. A face so ingrained in her memory that she would have known it anywhere. And yet it was impossible.

But everything, down to his dark golden skin and long, dark hair was the same. And the look in his eyes - a starving man staring at a banquet that had been laid out just for him, waiting for someone to tell him yes, you can have it now.

It was him and yet it could not be him.

"Shall we take our places then?" Karim asked. No introductions. No shaking of hands, just straight to business.

Anabeth found her place at the centre of the left side of the table. At the top sat Sekhemkhet - no, Anabeth reminded herself, Akhenaten. His name is Akhenaten, and I mustn't forget that. Across from her was Karim and beside her was Peter. Mr Banks took a seat on a bench at the side of the room, removed from the discussion.

"Miss Brightbury," Akhenaten finally acknowledged her. "I hope you have had a pleasant journey."

His smile was beatific. Just like I remember, she thought before she could stop herself. But there was something about his smile that was too like Sekhemkhet's so she could not ignore it. A sense of challenge - a quirk that made her think they were sharing an inside joke.

"It was quite pleasant, thank you. I am very happy to be back in such a beautiful country. I have missed it these past two months."

"Egypt has missed you too," he replied, unheard by the rest of the group as they finished settling into their seats.

"The matter at hand," Karim began, "is the ownership and the distribution of the artefacts found in the tomb close to the Pyramid of Djoser. Founded by Anabeth Brightbury, but the legal property of Akhenaten." Peter sat straighter, ready to intervene at the mention of Anabeth's involvement, however Karim continued. "Akhenaten would like to propose that the tomb and it's contents remain here in Egypt, under the watch of the natives."

There was a silence in the room - the kind that made Anabeth stay totally still. She knew that this kind of tense silence could be shattered by the slightest movement, bringing pandemonium. She was right.

Akhenaten shifted in his chair, his elbow resting on the table with his hand on his chin. His fingers rested on his lips, just enough to cover the small smile playing there. The smile that had Anabeth's stomach flipping around. Who is he?

"I beg your pardon?" One British man began, though he was cut off by several others. It was like how her father had described the scenes at parliamentary debates before order could be called. 'They're like chimpanzees in a zoo,' he had told them animatedly over dinner one night. 'The slightest thing sets them off and they all stand up, jeering, and throwing things. The noises they make!'

The Egyptian men looked amused, though not in a good way. They were laughing at the Englishmen, rather than with them. It embarrassed Anabeth. But then she caught Akhenaten looking at her. Just for a second, before he winked, and she had to look away. Beth could feel her cheeks grow warm and had to supress a smile. Even if he wasn't the ghost, he was incredibly handsome and cared enough about her opinion that he asked for her to travel here.

"Gentlemen that's quite enough," Anabeth said gently. To her surprise the men stopped speaking and looked at her. Many of them looked surprised that she'd dare to involved herself. "Mr Carter," Beth turned to him. "If you will."

"Of course, Miss Brightbury, thank you." Peter turned to Akhenaten, smiling pleasantly, though his face was still red from the shouting. "Mr Brightbury, the founder of the tomb, would-" Peter began, stressing the claim of Beth's father.

"I must stop you there, Mr Carter," Akhenaten interrupted. "Miss Brightbury here found the tomb. You may dispute this point all you like, but I do know the truth. You may also continue to refer to her father as the founder, however it will not change the facts. I will still be asking Miss Brightbury her own opinions."

Beth's mouth popped open of its own accord. Peter didn't even look angry, he just seemed dumbfounded. As though he couldn't quite believe that any sane man would want the opinion of a young woman over that of an educated, well-established male.

"Of course," Peter cleared his throat and took a sip of water. "Well, nevertheless, Mr Brightbury proposes that in the case that your descendance can be proven-"

Akhenaten began to interrupt again and Anabeth couldn't blame him. To question his claims in such an outright manner, when the majority of the men in this room clearly believed him, went further than just bad manners. It was a challenge of dominance. The Colonist versus the Native.

"Mr Carter, my family has been recognised as descendants for generations." Akhenaten's voice took on an edge. The more he spoke, the more powerful he sounded. Anabeth could feel it deep in her stomach. "Our lineage has been documented for thousands of years. We have simply faded into insignificance due to other ruling powers. If you care to question this further, I shall personally escort you to the national records buildings. At your leisure of course." Anabeth still could not look at the man. Everything about him was seducing her. She knew him, but how could she?

"Be that as it may, the tomb was found by the British," Peter continued, growing agitated. He was a slight man in comparison to Akhenaten. His masculinity rode on his ability with words. "Mr Brightbury proposes that the pieces be exhibited here for a period of twelve months before being transferred to the British Museum for twenty-four months and from there to the highest bidder in Europe for a period of time, to be decided by yourself, and then they are yours to house in Egypt." Peter smirked as though Akhenaten should be amazed by the generosity of Anabeth's father.

Beth rolled her eyes, realising too late that Akhenaten was watching her.

"And what do you think, Henutsen?" Akhenaten asked in Arabic. Beth could understand him, and yet she had never studied the language. How else would I be able to understand him? A small voice questioned in her head, but she supressed it.

Mr Banks tilted his head subtly at the other side of the table. Beth had forgotten that he could speak the language. She had to be careful here.

"I'm sorry?" She asked, as though she hadn't understood him perfectly.

"What do you think should happen to the artefacts?" Akhenaten repeated in English this time.

"Why she agrees with her father!" Peter almost exploded from his seat.

This is it, Anabeth thought. This is the sole chance I may ever have to make a difference. To speak my mind.

"I think the artefacts should remain in the tomb. I don't agree that they should have been extracted at all."

The table of men watched her, silently. Another tense silence. This time there was no movement to bring it about, just a few beats which passed before a cacophony of noise began. The Englishmen were furious, the Egyptian men confused but still disagreeing. And at the head of it all sat Akhenaten - no, Sekhemkhet, Anabeth knew it, despite how insane that made her - smiling at her as though she had produced a masterpiece of words.

"Let us adjourn for a few minutes," Sekhemkhet announced to the room, ceasing the chatted immediately. "It seems we have much to discuss."

"What do you think you are doing?" Peter hissed at Anabeth in the corner of the bright room they had been escorted to. There were refreshments laid out around the room - fruit, cakes, tea, and wine - and the British delegates had been brought to this room while the Egyptian men had stayed in the meeting room.

Peter had pulled her by the elbow, quite roughly, the second they had been out of earshot of Karim. Mr Banks had followed, eying Peter's hand on her with a scowl. Beth was sure if she had cried out Mr Banks would have removed the hand with no trouble.

"He asked me a question and I answered," Anabeth whispered back, jerking her arm away from Peter, forcing him to release her.

"You job here is-"

"My job here is to refute anyone who asks me if I discovered the tomb, Mr Carter," Beth cut him off, finding her feet again. She had felt timid in front of Akhenaten, however Peter had little effect on her. "That was my only instruction. You were supposed to do the negotiating, which is why I knew nothing of my father's plans for the exhibit."

"She is right, Peter," Mr Banks supported her. "I am only here to watch her and report back to her father if she attempts to claim the find. She has not done that."

Peter still seethed. "She did not contest his analysis of the situation. She has done untold damage to our claim!"

"You have damaged our claim, Mr Carter, by being rude and flaunting a false sense of superiority," Anabeth was getting louder. "You cannot treat this man as though he is subservient to the British Empire. He has something you want and if you still want it you will have a lot of grovelling to do before you convince anyone of your sincerity."

By the end of her speech, the room was looking at the small group huddled in the corner. Beth was unused to outbursts.

"Excuse me." Anabeth ducked out of the room, heading down the long hallway. A door at the end was open and, after a quick inspection she found it to be empty. Closing the door behind her, Beth entered the quiet room, surveying the walls lined with books. The floor was dark wood, covered by a vibrant green rug which matched the thick curtains. Why would such a hot country use such dark and heavy furnishings, she wondered.

She had to get her head straight.

She had damaged her father's cause. Despite what Mr Banks had said, she knew her father would be irate when he heard that she had encouraged the Egyptians to keep the artefacts hidden, out of read for the British Museum. She would be facing a world of horror when she returned home, which might be sooner than she had anticipated. If the Egyptian delegates took her advice, was that it? Was the matter over, and she would return home? Perhaps not today or tomorrow, but the next day or soon after, surely?

And even greater than this - Sekhemkhet was in a meeting room down the hall. He was a ghost before and yet now he was all too real. The room did not glow of gold, and yet she still understood him when he spoke Arabic. Her brain finally caught up with her. There is a dead man, brought back to life in that room and I am the only one who knows? Or at least the only one who cares?

"You seem concerned," a voice noted from the corner of the room. Anabeth almost screamed, her had flying to her mouth as she turned to see Sekhemkhet standing by the bookshelves, watching her.

"How did you get in here?" Anabeth asked. Sekhemkhet was leaning against the wall furthest from the door. He couldn't get there without her seeing him.

"Hidden doors," he smiled, pulling aside one part of the bookcase, showing her the secret entryway. "We like secrets here."

"I'm sure you do," she replied.

They studied each other for a few moments. She was certain it was him, and she knew he would recognise her. He had called her here, after all.

"Sekhemkhet?" Anabeth questioned, needing him to confirm her insanity.

Sekhemkhet nodded, smiling slowly, allowing the grin to lick across his face with a delicious, deliberate ease.

"You're not supposed to be real. You were a bad dream-"

"A bad dream?" Sekhemkhet questioned, his eyes growing wicked. "I remember nothing negative about it."

"I have been questioning my sanity for months." Anabeth stood straighter, allowing some ire to enter her voice. He cannot expect anything from you, she reminded herself. This is the real world - there are rules and protocols. He cannot lure you into any golden rooms here.

"I know. I could feel your doubt. That is why I had to bring you here. It is far too difficult to protect you from so far away."

"Protect your child, you mean?" The venom in her voice surprised her. She hadn't even planned on mentioning her suspicions, but he was the only person she had the liberty to speak of it with. He was equally guilty in this act.

Sekhemkhet laughed, shaking his head. "You are not with child."

The feeling of relief that Beth experienced was small and yet indescribable. "How can you possibly know that?"

"I held no true human form that night. It would not have been possible. The prophecy stated only that a woman need be willing to carry my child, not that I must impregnate her."

"What about the statue of Tawaret?"

Sekhemkhet frowned. "I know nothing of a symbol from the deity. Though, if your father's men had been so certain of the tale then perhaps, they believed you had fulfilled it. It would make sense as the tomb had been found when it had so clearly been hidden."

At this Beth finally relaxed. After months of terrifying doubt, she could be calm. She had not ruined herself.

"We have much to discuss," Sekhemkhet smiled, moving towards her.

Beth took a few steps back. "Yes, we do. Firstly, why am I here? Why are you here?"

"I have watched over Egypt for millennia now," he replied as though it were obvious. "I watched this country go from greatness to squalor and now we are ruled over by a foreign king who is controlled by an infant empire. I must restore balance."

"I can understand that," Anabeth nodded. "But that has nothing to do with me. Nor does it effect the artefacts from the tomb."

"You are correct," Sekhemkhet nodded, folding his hands in front of him. He walked in front of her in an arch, growing closer, like a predator trying to corner its prey. Unfortunately for Beth, her back was already against the wall of books and she had nowhere to go. "Over the millennia many tried to tempt me with women. Young girls were left all over the desert by their families in the hopes that I would claim them and fulfil the prophecy. Many of them perished there. All in the name of resurrecting me."

"Why didn't you?" Anabeth frowned.

"They were never left close enough to the actual tomb for me to lure them in," Sekhemkhet winked. Something inside Anabeth warmed at the sight - she had no idea that he could hold a sense of humour.

"Charming," Anabeth began, feigning disdain for his mischievous remark.

"But I also knew that I had to wait for you," Sekhemkhet became sombre, looking at her differently. "I had to wait for Henutsen."

"I am not Henutsen," Anabeth argued. "I am Beth. Individual and original. I apologise for the inconvenience."

Sekhemkhet laughed at this. "Of course, you are. But you carry her spirit. How it found itself in England I don't know, but it did. And here you are."

Anabeth didn't like the idea that she was not simply Anabeth Brightbury. But, more than this, she felt an almost jealous sensation. Sekhemkhet should want her. Not Henutsen, though they may be one and the same.

She had little time to contemplate this, however, as she heard her name being called from somewhere in the hallway.

"They will be looking for me," Beth sighed. "I have damaged my father's cause. They won't want me doing any more harm."

Sekhemkhet examined her for a moment. "In that case we have little time." He walked towards her, forcing her to press her back further against the books. It was eerily similar to their first meeting in the tomb, and by the hungry smile on Sekhemkhet's face, the parallel was not lost on him.

He towered over her, so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. "I need you to stay in Egypt."

"For how long?" Anabeth asked, her voice breathy and unsure. He wasn't even touching her and she could feel herself melting under him. It was like the previous night on the balcony but so much more intense.