AN: Alright, so I just watched The Mummy again for the 1st time in a long time and remembered how ridiculously obsessed I used to be with the movie. Then I got the idea for this story and, well, here we are. By no means am I an expert on ancient Egyptian history or archaeology, but I'll do my best to be as accurate as fiction allows. There will be magic, adventure, themes of eighteenth century feminism, and buckets and buckets of romance between Gadge, my favorite literary couple that should've been, but wasn't.

P.S. Still working on Incubate, but I've got to take breaks or else I'd go completely crazy :)

P.P.S. I'm really excited about this story, even if it's kind of crazy, haha.

Sand rose around her in great waves, darkening the sky, swallowing the sun, but she was not afraid. Be brave, little one, her father had told her before she was taken from home many years ago, be brave and serve your god. She had done as commanded. She had been faithful for so long, though her heart beat in rebellion, and then came the day she could fight her heart no longer. Then came her doom.

Be brave and serve your god. She had no god. No more. Never again. Only thirst remained to her. She licked her cracked and bleeding lips, seeing water on every horizon. Though she knew it was a mirage, she kept walking towards the water. Though she knew she would soon die, she kept breathing the scorched air of the desert.

1923

Margaret woke lathered in sweat from another nightmare. Like the other three she'd had this week, it left her with a thirst too great to bear. She could still feel the sand caught in her throat. She untangled herself from damp sheets, moved quietly through the sleeping cottage, expecting to feel hot sand beneath her feet at every step. Just a dream, she told herself, shaking her head to clear it of sleep's trickery. She was far from any deserts. She was in Southampton, in her aunt's little cottage by the sea. As she stood in the kitchen, downing a glass of water, and then another, and another, she slowly returned to herself, remembered why she was here, and why she was likely dreaming of deserts.

Tomorrow she was to set sail for Egypt. She still couldn't believe it was really happening. When Professor Abernathy, the head of the Archeology Department, invited her to join his expedition to Karnak, she'd been flabbergasted. She was a journalism major, had never even set foot in the archeology building, and initially thought that Professor Abernathy was teasing her. He was known for playing cruel jokes on the students, but he'd quickly assured her that wasn't the case this time. "I've heard good things about you," he'd said during their brief meeting in his dusty, cluttered office. "I want someone to record our journey. Your Head of Department tells me that you're the best."

Madge had been more shocked by that than anything else. Her Department Head, Professor Crane, openly despised her. She was the only woman in the program. He often said that she didn't have what it took to be a field journalist, that she was too soft. If anything, he'd recommended her for the Karnak expedition to scare her out of the program. She was determined to prove him wrong about her.

Fuming a little just thinking about the man, and still overheated from her dream, she stepped outside for a breath of salty sea air and made her way to the beach, following footsteps left in the sand by another, either Peeta or her aunt. When she crested the dune, she spotted a figure at the water's edge. Peeta, she thought, smiling, recognizing him even from a distance in the dim light of the new moon.

"Couldn't sleep?" he said when she joined him. Madge shook her head. "Me either," he said. "I'm too worked up about tomorrow."

Unlike her, Peeta was an archaeology major. For as long as she could remember, it'd been his dream to go on an expedition such as this. The two of them had grown up together, their houses side by side, and she considered him as a brother. It was a great comfort knowing that he would be with her for the weeks to come. Despite her pride and determination, she was nervous, terrified of failing, of being as weak as Professor Crane believed. She wasn't an adventurer, never dreamt of being one. She'd never even left western Europe. The dreams didn't help. They always left her with a sense of foreboding. They felt like a dark omen, a warning not to go.

For a moment, she considered telling Peeta about her dreams, but he looked so excited, staring out to sea, eager to sail, that she swallowed back the words. Stop being silly, she told herself, there's no such thing as dark omens. Only your nerves getting the best of you.

"Are you packed?" she asked, knowing his habit of putting things off to the last minute.

"Nearly," he said. He didn't need to ask if she was. She'd probably had her bags loaded a month ago.

"Are you ready?" she said.

"Been ready all my life. You?"

Not at all, she thought, but the time to back out had already passed. Ready or not, she would board the ship tomorrow. She would prove that she was capable of handling herself out in the field, out in the desert.

The morning dawned gray and drizzly. "Perfect weather for sailing," said Peeta through a mouthful of kippers and eggs. Madge's aunt had made them a hearty breakfast. She didn't believe in travelling on an empty stomach and she'd had plenty experience, herself, with travel. She was the sort of woman who couldn't sit still for too long. Her eyes constantly ached for new sights, new wonders to behold. As Madge stirred her porridge, too nauseas to take a bite, she wished she was more like her aunt and less like her mother, who didn't even like to be driven into London by the chauffeur.

Madge rose from the table. She wanted to check her bag one last time, make certain she hadn't forgotten anything. She'd almost made it to her room, when her aunt's voice called out to her from within the study. Madge turned sharply, following the summons, and found her aunt rummaging through the study desk.

"I've got something for you," said Maysilee. "It's here somewhere. Just give me a moment."

Madge waited patiently. She browsed the leatherbound books on the shelves, accustomed to biding her time while her aunt searched for something misplaced. She was always losing things and always finding them. Her little cottage by the sea was cluttered with knick knacks from all of her travels.

"Ah ha!" she cried triumphantly, straightening up. "Found it." Madge moved closer to her. Cradled in Aunt Maysilee's hands was a little velvet pouch, which she passed to Madge. Whatever was inside wasn't heavy. "Go on, open it, dear," said Maysilee. Madge loosened the pouch string and, carefully, shook its contents into the palm of her hand.

"It's beautiful," she gasped, her nerves momentarily forgotten as she marvelled at the amulet. A vulture with a strange encircled T-shape held in its outstretched wings. Once it must've shone brightly, but the gold was dulled with age.

"I picked it up on my last trip to Egypt," said Maysilee. "I was told it possesses the power of Isis." She stepped around the desk and took the amulet from Madge's hands to clasp it around her neck. "Hopefully, if you wear it, the Great Goddess will protect you on your journey."

"Protect me from what?" said Madge teasingly. In the light of day, her nightmares held less sway. She was only afraid of failing now and doubted any ancient goddess would be much help against her own inequities.

"Snakes, scorpions, ancient curses," said Maysilee.

"Since when do you believe in curses?" said Madge. Her aunt shrugged. She touched the

amulet, nestled between Madge's collar bones.

"A little extra caution never hurt anyone," she said, moving her hand to brush a lock of hair behind Madge's ear. "Did you write to your mother?"

Madge grimaced. No, she hadn't written. Her mother's parting words still stung a week after they'd been spoken. You're a foolish girl for going off like this. It's time you accepted your proper place in the world. By proper place, she meant married to Cato and designing the nursery for their dozens of children. They'd parted on angry terms. Her mother just couldn't understand why she'd chosen to go to university, instead of settling down like a she was supposed to. Her mother just couldn't understand her, that she wanted more from life. Aunt Maysilee, who'd never married, did understand.

"She worries about you, that's all," said Maysilee, smiling sympathetically, knowingly.

"I'll see her again soon enough," said Madge. She didn't want to think about her mother today. The open ocean waited for her, Egypt waited for her. She heard Peeta calling her name. It was time for them to head to the docks. They had a boat to catch, an adventure to live.

"Thank you for the gift," said Madge. She kissed her aunt's cheek and then hurried off to gather her bags.

Sweat dripped into Gale's eyes. The air was dry. He couldn't escape the smell of fish and camel dung. If only he'd called tails instead of heads, then it would be Katniss waiting on this filthy, crowded dock for Mellark and the journalist wannabe. To kill time, he'd sampled some of the native liquor, and now regretted his decision. The drink here was harsher than anything he'd tried before and he'd tried quite a lot. He breathed through his mouth, his stomach burning still, and focused on keeping his breakfast down.

Though he didn't much like it, he understood why Professor Abernathy chose Peeta Mellark as the one of the three of his students to go on this expedition. Mellark was a pampered, rich boy, but he was smart, top of the class, all the more reason for Gale to hate him. What he didn't understand was why the journalist wannabe had to come along. They could record their own findings just fine without her. And why did it have to be a her?

Gale had never met Margaret Undersee and if he'd seen her in passing, he didn't remember. He knew she was friends with Mellark and wondered if his classmate had pulled some strings to have her brought along. Professor Abernathy didn't hand out favors, but for the right price, he could be bought. How much had Mellark given him? Enough to quench his thirst for the next couple of years, no doubt. Gale had worked hard to be where he was now, nauseous and sweating on a crowded dock. This Undersee girl, whoever she was, hadn't done a damn thing to earn her place, besides being born with deep pockets.

By the time their ship pulled into the harbor, Gale had mostly regained control of his stomach, but his head throbbed and he was in a foul mood. He shielded his eyes from the scorching sun and scanned the deck. It didn't take long for him to spot Mellark, whose blonde head stood out in stark contrast to the majority of dark-haired people.

"Oy, Mellark, over here!" shouted Gale, waving his arms over his head to catch their attention. He watched them fight their way over, jostled by the crowd, and made no move to help them. He'd come this far to fetch them. They could come the rest of the way on their own. He couldn't see the Undersee girl until they finally reached him. She kept close to Mellark's back, cowering behind him like a child. Gale didn't waste any time trying to get a better look at her. He was eager to return to the hotel, where there was a bar that served drinks he could pronounce the names of.

"This way," he said brusquely, turning sharply and leading the way to where a cab was parked and waiting.

They were going to wreck. The taxi cab barrelled down the road, took hairpin turns that sent Madge, sitting in the middle of the backseat, sloshing against Peeta and the dark haired man she'd yet to be properly introduced to. She clutched Peeta's arm with both hands and closed her eyes against Alexandria whooshing past them on all sides. There would be time to take in her new surroundings later, when she was stationary, assuming they made it to the hotel in one piece. Her stomach hadn't yet recovered from three weeks at sea. I'll never set foot on a boat again, she thought, or a taxi. From now on, she planned to walk everywhere.

"How far is the hotel?" said Peeta.

"Ten minutes, give or take," said Gale. He glanced at the girl beside him, noticed the sickly green tint to her face, and added, "Try not to barf."

Madge was trying her best. She made no promises.

The cab pulled up onto the curb in front of the hotel. Madge leapt out, straight into oncoming traffic. Peeta yanked her out of the path of a speeding Ford. "You might want to open your eyes now," he said. She did. The sun blinded her. She still couldn't see anything for a few seconds, and then the city took shape. It was nothing like she expected. Where were the ancient ruins and monuments? The camels? The sand? Looking around her at the wide, paved street lined with hotels, coffee houses, a three story National Bank on the corner, automobiles honking, men in suits and ladies in broad sunhats, she felt she hadn't left London at all. Everything was about the same, a little less modern, but modern enough.

"This is Alexandria?" she said.

Peeta was too preoccupied haggling with the cab driver to have heard. Gale snorted at her disbelief. "What did you expect?" he said. "A bunch of huts and savage brown men?"

Madge flushed sunburn red. She turned to look him square in the eye and he got his first good look at her. "No," she snapped. She wasn't racist and didn't appreciate his accusation. The way he scowled at her showed quite clearly what he thought about her. "I just assumed it would feel...older."

"Primitive, you mean," said Gale. Obviously, she didn't know her history. Most of ancient Alexandria had been destroyed during the Kitos War and the tsunami of 365. Now it was one of the largest and most lucrative centers of international trade, exporting thousands of pounds of Egyptian cotton daily.

Before Madge could respond, Peeta turned back to them. "So," he said, as the cab pulled away from the curb and quickly disappeared in the heavy afternoon traffic. "Where's Professor Abernathy?"

"Where else?" said Gale.

"Ah, the bar," said Peeta, rolling his eyes. He set off for the glass-plated front doors of their hotel.

"Don't expect me to carry your bags for you, Princess," said Gale. Madge didn't respond. She tightened her grip on the handle of her suitcase and marched after Peeta. Though she and the dark-haired young man still hadn't been properly introduced, she was quite certain that she hated him.

Madge didn't bother unpacking. They wouldn't be in Alexandria long. Her room was clean and comfortable with deep red carpet and matching drapes. She fell back onto the queen bed, tired from travel. What am I doing here? She wanted to return to her aunt's cottage by the sea, where it was quiet and familiar, without the noise and smell of a foreign city sneaking in through the open window. She tried to raise her heavy body to close it, but before she could muster the strength, sleep overtook her.

"Be brave, little one, and serve your god," her father said. He kissed her between the eyes, before lowering a white veil over her face and passing her to the men waiting to escort her across miles of desert to a place she'd never been, a place that was to be her home until the day she died. The men frightened her. They didn't speak, didn't smile. They were like the statues in the temple, uncaring stone.

I do not want to go, she thought, dying to scream. I do not want to marry Pharoah. The choice was not her's to make. Pharaoh had chosen her. Pharaoh was god and they all must serve his will. She would never see home or family again. The pain of permanent farewell kept her from looking back. Later on, when she forgot what home and family looked like, she would regret not taking a final look.

"Madge, wake up," said Peeta, shaking her from the dream. She blinked up at him, unsure of her surroundings. Were they in London? She heard city sounds...but no, it did not smell like London. Beneath the vapors of petrol, there was a spicy scent stirred round the room by the sluggish fan blades above the bed.

"Come on," said Peeta. "The others are waiting for us."

Right, she was in Alexandria, on an expedition, and the others were waiting.

Professor Abernathy and Katniss were debating the Jewish presence in Ancient Egypt.

"It's in the scrolls," said Katniss, leaning forward in her chair, voice heated. "The Exodus did happen."

Abernathy swirled the melting cubes of ice in his drink. Opposite of his pupil, he spoke in a sarcastic drawl. "And the rivers ran red with blood, all the firstborn sons were smothered by the Angel of Death, and good, ole Moses said, let my goddamn people go. Fairy tales and nonsense."

"I'm not saying the ten plagues happened," snapped Katniss. "But you can't deny the sudden disappearance of the Jews in ancient texts during Ramses the Second's reign. They must have-"

Gale rubbed his temples. He didn't understand why Katniss bothered arguing with their professor. She couldn't win. The only thing she accomplished was to worsen his stubborn headache. Peeta and the Undersee girl were taking their sweet time getting here. That was the problem with rich people. They didn't give a damn about making people wait. The world turned according to their schedule.

"You're not accounting for the records that have yet to be found," said Professor Abernathy.

"Of course not," said Katniss. "What's the point of that? The absence of something doesn't prove it's existence. If that were the case, then-"

"Sorry to keep you waiting," said Peeta, strolling into the room as though he owned it. Undersee followed like his nervous shadow. "Madge here sleeps like the dead."

Katniss huffed at being interrupted mid-point. Abernathy looked relieved. Before Katniss could continue on, acting like the new arrivals hadn't ruined her pithy punchline, the professor said, "Take a seat, pour yourselves a drink. It's time we get acquainted."

There was only one vacant chair. Peeta gestured for Madge to take it. She perched stiffly on the edge of the seat, with her gloved hands folded primly in her lap. Neither of them seemed interested in a drink. They were still finding their land legs.

"Everdeen, Hawthorne, Mellark, you all know each other," said Abernathy, looking at them each in turn, before his eyes rested on Madge. Despite being a notorious drunk, there were times, such as now, when his gaze was eerily piercing. He was smarter and more perceptive than he let on. To be the Head of Archeology at Oxford, he had to be. "So that leaves me to introduce our friend here from Journalism, Ms. Margaret Undersee. She'll be keeping a record of our adventures for the school newsletter. Anything you'd like to add, Ms. Undersee?"

Madge shook her head. She couldn't speak, even if she'd wanted to, not in this stuffy parlor with three pairs of unfamiliar eyes on her. The dark-haired boy, Hawthorne, and the girl who could be his sister were it not for their different surnames, were both looking at her like she was an outsider, someone who shouldn't be here, and right then she agreed with them.

"Moving on then," said Abernathy. "I'll be brief. The next two weeks will not be a pleasant vacation. None of you have been out in the field. The hours are long, the work is bloody slow and painfully tedious, and there aren't any hotels where we're going. That being said, I don't tolerate whining. Understood?"

"Me and Katniss are used to roughing it," said Gale, pointedly eyeing Peeta and Madge.

"We understand what we've gotten into," said Peeta, glaring back at him. Madge, however, didn't have the faintest idea what she'd gotten herself into. You're here, she told herself. No turning back. Be brave and serve your god.

Serve your god? Where had that come from? She brushed aside the strange thought.

"We leave for Karnak in the morning," said Professor Abernathy. "If you're late, I'll leave you behind. I suggest you all go enjoy your last night of modern comforts. I know I will." He held up his glass for emphasis. "Now get out of here. I'll be seeing enough of you lot over the next two weeks and I'd rather not look at you for the next twelve hours." He stared down Katniss, eager to pick up on their argument where they'd left it.

"Come on, Catnip," said Gale. "You heard the man." He took Katniss by the arm and steered her from the room behind Mellark and Undersee.

"Well, shall we go exploring?" said Peeta just outside the door.

Gale gave him a scathing look. Just because they were on this expedition together, didn't make them friends. Mellark could forget about that. "Do what you want," he said, before slinking off down the hall. Without a word, Katniss went after him.

"Friendly folk. Superb manners," said Peeta, watching them. Once they rounded the corner, he turned his attention to Madge. "What about you? Fancy taking an evening stroll through Alexandria."

"Pass," she said. "I think I'll take Abernathy's advice and enjoy the modern comfort of my feather mattress."

"Oh, come on," said Peeta. "Tell me you didn't travel all this way just to sleep."

Now that she was here, Madge couldn't remember why she'd come. To prove herself to Professor Crane, to her mother, to the world itself? In hindsight, that all seemed like childish pride. Professor Abernathy's speech had left her more in doubt than ever. If it was really going to be so terrible out there, she needed a good night's rest, hopefully without any strange dreams, to prepare herself for the trials to come.

Alone in her room, though, she was unable to drift off again. She tossed and turned all night, like a ship on the ocean, a ship that had strayed far off course and had little hope of finding safe shores.