I decided to write a Scorpion King fic before the movie came out. I thought
that if I were to wait, the movie plot itself would entirely change my
piece.
Disclaimer- The character Othias, the Scorpion King does not belong to me. I have written an original version of his personality, as I have obviously not seen TSK yet. Also, in case I decide to go that far into the plot within later chapters, all characters from TMR that may appear do not belong to me.
Well, that should do it for the disclaimer. Well, enjoy and please R&R.
Myst sat at the edge of the rough hewn, wooden bench thinking back to the day that had taken her to the slave pens of Egypt, and forcing herself not to weep. She stared out at the barren desert surrounding the city of Alexandria, so very unlike the green, mist-shrouded hills of her beloved Ireland.
One of the local children stopped and stared at her for a long moment. She felt a wave of discomfort as the girl pointed her out to her mother, who also stared for a second before moving off down the sandy street. Myst was as out of place among even the other slave women as a bird of paradise among ravens. While the others all had dark, straight hair and eyes of a deep brown like those of the native people, Myst had long, fiery, red, hair which naturally fell in cascading waves, and eyes of dancing emeralds.
She sighed softly, having not slept since her arrival, as she was not yet used to this heat. The slavers had kept her in a sheltered pen so that her pale complexion would not be colored by the sun. She had overheard them speaking of the high price that her exotic looks could raise. Little did they know that she had picked up much of their language on the lengthy journey from her lands to this strange place.
Her initial fear had been overcome by a sense of helplessness and then one of acceptance. The others, who had been captured closer to this place still had a chance to escape. If they were to escape, they could blend into the crowded marketplace. She however stood out among these people of dark features. For her there seemed to be no way out.
The moonlight shone lightly on the desert sands, the night making them appear to be a strange blue color. Myst yawned, rising from the bench that served as a bed, seat, and table for her. She sighed, brushing some freshly shed tears from her face and whispering aloud, "At least I got a bit of sleep tonight."
She stretched silently and then curled up on the cold ground beneath the bench, hoping that sand would be slightly more comfortable of a bed than a slab of rough wood. She sighed softly, laying on her side, looking away from the bars of her cage, and tucking her arm beneath her head and neck for support.
She heard voices outside of her cell door. Myst fought against her instinctive tensing and forced herself to stay still as stone. She kept her breathing rhythmic, as if she was indeed asleep. A pair of male voices was speaking quietly in the language of that region of the world. The language that she had already mastered. One was the voice of the head of the slavers, the other one she vaguely remembered hearing before, but she could not place it.
The strange voice spoke, "His majesty wishes a few new girls for his harem. Bring the red angel from this cell along with nine of your other girls tomorrow in the afternoon." At the mention of herself, Myst squeezed her eyes closed. She lay in the pleasantly cool sand, trembling inside. Why did it have to be a harem? No less the one belonging to the King? "The King shall choose the few among their number that please them. It will be worth your while."
"But sir, she is an untamed one. She will not even speak her name to us…"the tone of the slaver's voice told Myst that the other was a man of some great importance.
The stranger interrupted him. "The King prefers untamed creatures. He finds great pleasure in training them to obey his will. Women are no exception to this."
"Yes, of course, High Priest. It shall be done." The voices moved away from her cell door, and for the first time she cried while she was awake, wondering about her uncertain future.
Author- I meant to get to the part where Othias comes in, but regrettably I don't have time to today. Please R&R, and let me know if I should continue with this one. And please, no flamers. This is my first fanfic.
Disclaimer- The character Othias, the Scorpion King does not belong to me. I have written an original version of his personality, as I have obviously not seen TSK yet. Also, in case I decide to go that far into the plot within later chapters, all characters from TMR that may appear do not belong to me.
Well, that should do it for the disclaimer. Well, enjoy and please R&R.
Myst sat at the edge of the rough hewn, wooden bench thinking back to the day that had taken her to the slave pens of Egypt, and forcing herself not to weep. She stared out at the barren desert surrounding the city of Alexandria, so very unlike the green, mist-shrouded hills of her beloved Ireland.
One of the local children stopped and stared at her for a long moment. She felt a wave of discomfort as the girl pointed her out to her mother, who also stared for a second before moving off down the sandy street. Myst was as out of place among even the other slave women as a bird of paradise among ravens. While the others all had dark, straight hair and eyes of a deep brown like those of the native people, Myst had long, fiery, red, hair which naturally fell in cascading waves, and eyes of dancing emeralds.
She sighed softly, having not slept since her arrival, as she was not yet used to this heat. The slavers had kept her in a sheltered pen so that her pale complexion would not be colored by the sun. She had overheard them speaking of the high price that her exotic looks could raise. Little did they know that she had picked up much of their language on the lengthy journey from her lands to this strange place.
Her initial fear had been overcome by a sense of helplessness and then one of acceptance. The others, who had been captured closer to this place still had a chance to escape. If they were to escape, they could blend into the crowded marketplace. She however stood out among these people of dark features. For her there seemed to be no way out.
The moonlight shone lightly on the desert sands, the night making them appear to be a strange blue color. Myst yawned, rising from the bench that served as a bed, seat, and table for her. She sighed, brushing some freshly shed tears from her face and whispering aloud, "At least I got a bit of sleep tonight."
She stretched silently and then curled up on the cold ground beneath the bench, hoping that sand would be slightly more comfortable of a bed than a slab of rough wood. She sighed softly, laying on her side, looking away from the bars of her cage, and tucking her arm beneath her head and neck for support.
She heard voices outside of her cell door. Myst fought against her instinctive tensing and forced herself to stay still as stone. She kept her breathing rhythmic, as if she was indeed asleep. A pair of male voices was speaking quietly in the language of that region of the world. The language that she had already mastered. One was the voice of the head of the slavers, the other one she vaguely remembered hearing before, but she could not place it.
The strange voice spoke, "His majesty wishes a few new girls for his harem. Bring the red angel from this cell along with nine of your other girls tomorrow in the afternoon." At the mention of herself, Myst squeezed her eyes closed. She lay in the pleasantly cool sand, trembling inside. Why did it have to be a harem? No less the one belonging to the King? "The King shall choose the few among their number that please them. It will be worth your while."
"But sir, she is an untamed one. She will not even speak her name to us…"the tone of the slaver's voice told Myst that the other was a man of some great importance.
The stranger interrupted him. "The King prefers untamed creatures. He finds great pleasure in training them to obey his will. Women are no exception to this."
"Yes, of course, High Priest. It shall be done." The voices moved away from her cell door, and for the first time she cried while she was awake, wondering about her uncertain future.
Author- I meant to get to the part where Othias comes in, but regrettably I don't have time to today. Please R&R, and let me know if I should continue with this one. And please, no flamers. This is my first fanfic.