Sekhemkhet's Promise Pt. 05

The kiss was gentle, and it filled Anabeth with a strange sort of hope. In every way, what she had with William was different from what she had with Sekhemkhet. There was lust -- it was driving Beth to distraction in this particular moment -- but it was not an all-consuming feeling. She felt other things -- a tug under her breastbone, an elation that could almost make her weep.

It was everything that Anabeth didn't know she wanted or needed until that day.

William was the first to pull away and, when she opened her eyes, Beth could see the same feelings mirrored on his face. This was real and true. She couldn't help but smile tentatively at him.

"I struggled to express myself with words," Beth said quietly. "I hope that will suffice in their absence."

William stroked a hand down her cheek, which Beth leaned into before kissing his palm. "I suppose it's my turn then, huh?" Anabeth looked to him, confused. "To express myself, I mean. You said we should be up front with each other and that's what I intend to do now if you'll let me."

The fact that William had kissed her back -- even just the way that he looked at her -- had been up front enough for Beth, but she nodded anyway, wanting to hear what he had to say.

"Annie, I want to travel with you," William said, moving from her cheek and taking her hand in his. William's eyes were bright and his words filled Beth's mind immediately. "I want to take you wherever you want to explore. I was to see the world with you." When Anabeth began to frown slightly, William smiled intimately. "I want you to be my wife. I want to make you happy in any way I can. If that means never settling down in one place, then so be it. If it means never having children, then that's fine. I want you."

"I-" Anabeth began but stopped herself. She had to think out her next words carefully.

She wanted to say yes. It was not that simple, but she could make it that simple. It would be easy. Yet, Beth knew that she had a duty to William to tell him the whole story before he made a decision. "There are things you don't know," Beth said. It was a paltry beginning, but she did not know if this was the time or the place to tell him everything.

"The Akhenaten guy, right?" William nodded his head. Beth's head titled to the side, in question. How had he known? "I assumed that something was going on there, I just didn't know what. The way the guy looked at you during the opening of the exhibit..." There was a pause -- Beth didn't know where to start in order to fill the silence. "You don't have to tell me," William started to say, pulling his hands back, but Beth interrupted with a soft 'no' and his hands stayed with hers. She needed to set things straight immediately -- no more misunderstandings.

Anabeth took a deep breath and steeled herself. "I'm going to tell you," she said, looking up into his eyes. "But I need you to promise me that you'll not immediately assume that I'm insane."

"Why would I-" William began again, smiling, but Beth held a finger to his lips.

"Please trust me -- it is all quite impossible. I need you to hear the full truth before jumping to conclusions."

There was a great possibility that Beth would lose William, she knew, but she had no choice. As William agreed to refrain from judgement until the end of her story, Beth scrounged up every bit of courage that she had and told him the whole story. All of it -- from her first dream, to meeting Sekhemkhet, to being back in England, to returning to Egypt. She did not leave out a detail, down to each word that Nyla had said to her yesterday, though she must have said the words 'I know this is impossible' more times than she could count.

Through it all, William nodded and frowned. A few times he interjected with questions, which Beth answered as best she could. For some of them, however, Beth simply didn't know the answer.

Once Beth had finished, there was silence. She took another sip of cream soda, which was very warm now.

William leaned back in his chair. "Alright," he swallowed. "First things first -- I don't think you're lying, but that's a lot to take in."

"I understand," Anabeth agreed. She tried to be empathetic -- she tried to understand how entirely strange this whole thing was, but the edge had been lost on her for a while now. It had become her life and, as with many things, she had simply acclimated.

William blew a breath out through his mouth. "Do you know how many locals I've heard talking about the return of the Pharoah?" He laughed. "I thought they just meant the exhibit."

Anabeth smiled tightly at William. With each passing second, she was growing more impatient to know whether or not this meant that he would rescind his offer. She had to refrain herself from asking whether or not he still wanted her.

"Ok," he gathered his wits. "You know, I've done a lot of travelling, Annie. And one thing I've learned is to listen to the locals -- really listen to the locals. They always know what they're talking about. It's saved my ass in a lot of situations."

Anabeth nodded but waited. "So..." she prompted when he made no move to elaborate on what he meant.

William smiled. "So, as crazy as everything you just said is, I believe you." Anabeth's head fell back in relief as the tension drained from her body. She could have wept -- she had not told a soul any part of what had happened to her, and she hadn't realised just what a strain that had caused. "Which means," William continued. "That my offer still stands, Annie," he said gently. He was looking at her with concern and adoration. "You have some stuff to sort out, that's for sure," she laughed at that. Her cheeks were wet -- perhaps she had begun to weep after all. "But I'm bringing a ring with me to my aunt's dinner. It's in a week and, though you haven't exactly RSVP'd, I'm going to assume you'll be there." William wiped the tears away with his thumbs as his hands held her face and she nodded. "If you change your mind, just let me know before then. Take your time. Think about it. Do what needs to be done."

Anabeth kissed him again. It was sweet and wonderful and made her want to cry harder. She had never imagined that he would not only believe her but offer her clemency so quickly. So many would have condemned her for her actions -- for giving herself to a man before marriage. And yet here was William, offering her a future despite all of that.

"I'll check in with you every day," he promised. "You're not alone. If you need to be somewhere safe, come here. Wadjet -- is that how you say her name? -- she gave me something to put on the wall above the front door, apparently it'll make the place safe." Anabeth laughed again. Wadjet had been thorough.

William smiled at her. "Do we have a deal?"

"Yes," Anabeth whispered, somewhere between laughing and crying.

"Good," William kissed the top of her head as he stood. "And do yourself a favour -- tell Mr Banks all of this as well. That guy's looking out for you. You'll need all the help you can get."

**********

Anabeth appreciated the independence that William had given her and, despite her fear of telling Sekhemkhet, she felt as though she was lit up from the inside by some strange, buoyant joy.

That night, over dinner, Anabeth sat Mr Banks down and explained the situation to him. He had fewer questions than William -- seemingly unperturbed by the 'undead' part of the scenario. Instead, Mr Banks asked questions about safety and security: had Sekhemkhet been violent with her? Was she worried? Did she want to leave? Anabeth assured him that, for now, she was safe and was happy to stay and rectify the situation. She had no doubt that Mr Banks would take her away from here at the slightest sign of danger, though.

"You seem unsurprised," Anabeth noted, taking a bite of chicken. It had cooled while she had told him the truth, and the texture was... unappealing.

"Local gossip is usually founded on something," Mr Banks stated, echoing William. He thought for a minute, and they ate in silence, before he began to speak again. "Your father employed me to accompany you for a few reasons. The first is that I know Cairo very well. I was a soldier here, more than twenty years ago. I had heard the legends of Sekhemkhet long before I ever met you," Mr Banks took a drink of wine and paused for a moment. "There aren't a lot of stories like that here and it became abundantly clear which ones were made up to scare the British soldiers -- it depended on how the locals talked about them. Sekhemkhet's name was always muttered with reverence.

"I chose not to believe it -- I don't believe in many things that cannot be explained. However, the other reason your father employed me was due to my grasp of the language," at this Mr Banks looked at Anabeth. "I lived here for twelve years as a soldier and studied the language every day. Yet it still takes me a moment, at times, to grasp what is being said," Mr Banks shook his head. "I saw how bewildered you were by the men when we first landed here. Then... in that meeting -- you understood him. I saw it on your face -- the shock that he had called on you. And then, again, during his speech -- the outrage that he had named your father, even though the crowd watching were completely lost.

"All of this could have answers, I suppose," Mr Banks reasoned. "But when we sat in that first meeting -- the way that he looked at you. The way that he asked for your opinion. And, above all else, the way that he refuted the idea that anyone else could have found his tomb -- as though he had been there when it was found," Mr Banks shrugged. "If you had not told me tonight, I would perhaps have spent the rest of my life wondering if I was simply an old fool."

They said little else for the rest of the dinner, besides Anabeth asking Mr Banks to give his word not to tell her father. He agreed readily and with a smile. Beth realised that she needn't have asked that of him. Her father would call the entire story rubbish, even if he had evidence presented to him.

The next day, true to his word, William arrived at the museum the next and spent the day with her. He sat in her stuffy little office and read books or asked questions and accompanied her on her tours -- telling the visitors nonsense, though he did so convincingly enough to fool them. William showed up the next day and did the same, promising her an interesting weekend away from the museum.

The more pressing matter, however, was harder to address.

Sekhemkhet was nowhere to be found. For two days she went to his office and found it empty. At night she tried to summon him, but the wind did not so much as stir. On the Saturday, Anabeth lingered around the main hall of the museum until Karim, whom Peter had described as Sekhemkhet's 'right-hand man', appeared. Even he had no idea where to find Sekhemkhet or, if he did, he did not tell Anabeth.

Though frustrated, Beth spent the Saturday with William, and together they visited the Giza Necropolis. They had lunch in a small hidden restaurant, before visiting a market where Anabeth bought some material to have a new dress made.

It wasn't until Sunday that Sekhemkhet appeared.

Anabeth did not think that visiting the museum again would wield results -- he had not been there for the past few days -- yet she found his office door ajar. He was sitting at his desk again, reading a book.

A thrill of anxiety ran through her at the similarity between this scene and the last time she had been here, when he raised his voice. The power that she had felt had been terrifying and still had a hold on her, despite the fact that it had been a few days since then.

Do it now, she told herself. Tell him quickly and leave. It was cowardly, she knew, but the sooner it was done, the better. He had a right to know.

"William proposed to me," Anabeth began, not announcing her presence before speaking, her back hurting from the amount of tension in it. She was holding herself in a rigid position, barely in the room, afraid of the fallout that this conversation was likely to cause. Perhaps she expected Sekhemkhet to scream at her for giving William the impression that she was available. Maybe she would have to defend herself, she wasn't sure. There was so much that she didn't know about this man.

Sekhemkhet only laughed and continued with his work.

Beth allowed a moment to pass before she realised that he hadn't taken her seriously. "Did you listen to what I said?"

"Yes," Sekhemkhet didn't even bother to look up. "But you're mine."

Another moment passed. "That's all you have to say? You're not angry?"

Again, Sekhemkhet laughed, though it came out in more of a derisive snort. "Why should I be angry?"

Anabeth was taken aback. Did she want a reaction from him? She supposed not; it was better for her in any case that he simply laughed and got on with life. A small part of her was disappointed still. Anyone in love would feel at least slightly put out. Perhaps he would not be so flippant if he knew that she was going to accept. She had made Sekhemkhet promises -- nothing that had been bound by law but promises all the same.

Anabeth reminded herself of her reasoning. Too much (or perhaps too little) had happened since the beginning of this journey for her to honestly say she wanted this life. There was so little for her here. William could offer her adventure, perhaps even a small piece of domesticated life without smothering her. It would be worth the risk. Sekhemkhet offered her lust, but it was wearing on her.

Anabeth walked to the couch, taking off her hat. She fiddled with the ribbon on the end, pretending to be fascinated by it. Sekhemkhet still didn't bother with her.

She could feel her hands trembling, but she knew she had to say something. She owed that to him.

"I'm going to accept his proposal, Sekhemkhet."

Beth didn't look up. The room was silent but then, it had been silent before she had said anything. She wasn't sure if she could feel his gaze burning a hole in her or if she was imagining it. She was a coward, and she knew it.

"So that is why Wadjet is protecting the mortal," Sekhemkhet muttered.

How would he know that, Anabeth wondered, her brow wrinkling, unless he went after William already?

Anabeth realised that she didn't trust Sekhemkhet. Not at all -- or at least not in a way that really mattered. She had fooled herself into believing that this partnership was much more than it was.

She looked over to find him leaning back in his chair, his hands pushing his hair back from his face. He blew a breath out through his mouth. "What are your expectations, Anabeth?" She noticed that he used her name rather than Henutsens' unprompted. Perhaps he was seeing reason. "Do you expect me to grovel and beg you to stay?"

"I expected you to care," Anabeth admitted. "Though perhaps it is better if you do not."

Sekhemkhet nodded. He looked calm as he steepled his fingers in front of him but there was a simmering anger under the surface; one that Anabeth feared would never truly be extinguished. "Have you no gratitude?" He asked, staring her down. "I rescued you from a life of mediocrity and brought you above all others. Are you aware of how generous I have been to you?"

"Generous?" Anabeth almost scoffed. It appeared that she, too, had a simmering anger -- a need to push back against what she found unjust. "I don't even know who you are, do you understand that? You've come into my life, and you've turned it on its head," Beth was breathing heavily, fighting the sting of tears in her eyes -- she was not sad, but often found that she wept when she became furious. "And, yes, it has been exciting and new and wonderful, but it has also been terrifying and so lonely. You've barely been here throughout it all. I understand that you had other things to attend to but is that how it was always going to be? You, all powerful and important; and then me, the woman you drag around with you, at your beck and call at all times? You never made plans to marry me --"

"Marriage is irrelevant!" Sekhemket almost shouted, cutting her off and shocking Beth with his power, once again. "It is a man-made idea, it has no effects on the Gods, I would know!"

"It's important to me," Beth stressed, raising her voice in return. "You listen to nothing I have to say, you take charge of every situation and leave me guessing what's going on. You tell me nothing!"

"Why should I?" Sekhemkhet stood from his chair, sending it flying back against the cabinets behind him. He pointed at her with a book in his hand. "You are not Henutsen. You are not my equal. You are a mere girl who opened a tomb that she had no business with! You have ruined everything, and you are nothing without me, do you understand?"

"Don't you dare blame me for this," she hissed. Half crazed, she began stepping forward and, to her great delight, Sekhemkhet stepped back. "You, the great Pharaoh, were wrong. I never said I was her. In fact, I vehemently denied it. I told you; Wadjet told you! And you didn't listen to her or to me -- you couldn't face the idea that you might be wrong!"

"I don't have time for this nonsense!" Sekhemkhet roared, cutting her off, throwing the book in his hand against the wall and shattering the mirror which was framed there. His voice was like a crack of lightning -- startling and obscenely loud. Beth stumbled back several steps as Sekhemkhet turned to his desk and threw it across the room, destroying the bookcase that was there. Splinters of wood, ink, pages of books all went flying in a flurry of activity.

Anabeth stood completely still, cowering against the wall. Sekhemkhet was breathing heavily. A clock chimed down the hall.

"This is not how I plan to live my life," Beth whispered.

She walked across the debris to the door and Sekhemkhet followed her. He grabbed her arm, but she shook it violently, sobbing loudly and batting him away with her other hand until he freed her. She could not see through the tears.

Anabeth ran from the room, her face hot and tearstained. She was relying on her memory of the museum to guide her and, mercifully, she remembered it well. She was embarrassed by her outburst -- she had acted like an infant, and it had gotten her nowhere. She was ashamed of how she had let this man treat her. She had always been so independent -- so sure that she would never become reliant on a man after her father. More than that, though, she was terrified of that man -- or whatever he was. No man could throw a desk like that. What else was he capable of that she had not known?

"Beth?" She gasped as she walked right into William's chest, rounding into the entrance hall without slowing down.

At once she began to cry in earnest again, William's arms coming to circle her without hesitation. She clung to his shirt; her face buried in his chest. "What happened?" He murmured in her ear. For the first time in a long time Beth felt safe. If only she could have stayed there for longer.

"Please take me home," she managed to gasp between sobs, looking up into his face. He had such kind eyes.

She could hear roars and cries from behind them; noises of destruction as Sekhemkhet tore apart the room in his rage. Through the doors dark clouds were gathering, covering the sky and shadowing the streets. Thunder rumbled far away.

"Of course," William smiled encouragingly at her, before wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her out of the museum and further from Sekhemkhet with every step.

The car was waiting for them and as soon as they were seated, William instructed the driver to take them to his rooms in town. It was safer there, he assured her, with Wadjet's protection on the building.