𝒊𝒊. | BEAST OF BURDEN

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Hope is like the sun, which, as we journey towards it, casts the shadow of our burden behind us.❞
— Samuel Smiles

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.warning. This chapter contains mild mentions of incest, but remember, in ancient egyptian times it was common practice — expected even! — for those with royal blood to lie with their family in order to keep their bloodline 'pure'.

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Sneaking out of a heavily guarded village was no easy task, even with the use of the Eye at Amunet's disposal. Although she could sense the comings and goings of her personal handmaidens and guards, to get around them without arousing suspicion would be nearly impossible. As Jewel of the Nile she had a set schedule, one she had followed without fault ever since she was a child, to go astray would surely alert Ardeth that something was amiss.

Amunet shifted on the plush mattress, rolling over to lie on her side and face a slumbering Ardeth. She curled her legs up toward her chest, finding a moment of pleasantness as her bare skin rubbed soothingly against the smooth silk sheets. Moonlight shined in through the open terrace, slightly illuminating her private chambers. Multi colored sheets pooled beneath Ardeth's waist, dark shadows tantalizingly highlighted a firm abdomen, broad chest, and sculpted biceps. His naturally copper skin glowed enticingly underneath the moon's illumination, and just visible against his taut flesh were the inked tattooed markings that branded him as a high level warrior of the Medjai.

As the leader of the Medjai, Ardeth had to be in peak shape both physically and mentally, to be prepared should another warrior decide to confront and challenge his position. The Medjai were strong in tradition, and to this day — after thousands of years — they still believed that only the strongest of them all should lead their ranks. Unfortunately, Ardeth did not chose to become leader out of his own free will.

When Amunet was discovered to bare the gift of the All Seeing Eye, she was stripped of her family name and worldly possessions, taken from her family to be trained to become an unbiased deity. She was no longer Amunet Bay, daughter of Rafik and Esraa Bay, sister of Ardeth — she was Amunet, Jewel of the Nile, Keeper of the All Seeing Eye of Horus, First of her Name. While her parents rejoiced, happily giving up their only daughter, Ardeth saw his sister's confused tears and sorrow filled cries as she was carried away from her home and family at the young age of four-years-old. In that moment, he had vowed to do everything within his power to protect his sister as he should have when she needed him the most.

Ardeth's need to protect Amunet only intensified when she became of child bearing age. As the first deity in centuries, their people wanted Amunet to become the all giving mother to a new royal bloodline. Their hopes were to keep the Eye active for many generations, to pass on through Amunet's descendants. Another aspiration was to potentially bring life to other deities who were lost to time. Many warriors from various villages came forth to fight for the right to bed Amunet (age and race no factor) which gave birth to another tradition.

On the day of a new moon, a tournament would arise, and from sunup to sundown probably the most fiercest and bloodiest competition in the world would take place within a predetermined Medjai village. The victor won the opportunity to stay with Amunet in her private haven until the next cycle of the new moon, to have the chance to become a deity of their own should they succeed in impregnating her. Ardeth competed in every competition (no matter the distance and time) and had yet to lose a tournament, determined that no man was worthy of his sister unless they bested him in battle or wits.

Amunet often wondered what would have become of Ardeth if he hadn't chosen to dedicate his life to protecting her. Would he still have been leader of the Medjai? Would he have found true love in the arms of another woman? He had done so much for her, and she had given him very little in return.

Amunet lifted her arm, reaching out to hover her hand over Ardeth's slumbering figure. She was hoping to take a look into his mind, to discover his inner most desires. This was a common practice whenever sleep eluded her, which was more frequent as of late. Warm tingles spread out from the center of her palm, traveling out to the tips of her fingers and heel of her palm. Since she could not fully touch Ardeth in fear of waking him, Amunet had to rely on her ability to decipher the sensations she received from the various prickles of her skin. Closing her eyes, she concentrated, pushing away the whispers of the world that vied for her attention. Worried, anxious… Stressed, fearful… Affection, precautious... Amunet quickly pulled back her hand, unprepared to feel such strong emotions coming from the ever stoic warrior. He hides so much, endures so much.

Just because Ardeth felt like he failed to protect Amunet once when she was a child (when he, himself, was no older than she was), he overcompensated his unfounded guilt by taking on the duty as leader of the Medjai, to undergo the burden of protecting everybody.

My turn. Amunet carefully rolled out of bed, cautiously moving her limbs in order to not wake her brother. She was determined to use her gift as she was sure the Gods had intended. Her whole life she had done nothing but sit and pray, pampered as a deity, and sparsely used whenever someone would seek her advice for the needs of their people. Finally, Amunet had received her first prophecy, and she was not about to ignore it. Should the outcome be as she hoped, Ardeth would at last find peace from one of his many burdens.

With the help of the moon's light, Amunet maneuvered through her private chambers with ease. The large mattress she and Ardeth shared was positioned at the center of the spacious room, in the perfect space where she could gaze out of the terrace and see the rise and fall of the sun and moon. An optional netted canopy hung above the bed, to be used whenever the tiny creatures of the night felt particularly bothersome. On this particular night the net was drawn back to allow the warm breeze from the open terrace help cool Amunet and Ardeth's heated bodies.

Since Amunet planned on leaving for an undisclosed period of time in search of the savior from the prophecy, she wanted to spend one last night of physical passion with the brother who had given her so much of his life.

Unfortunately, Ardeth's life was not the only one taken for the sake of Amunet. Since she had been established a living deity, women and young girls from varying villages were asked to pledge themselves to her as either a handmaiden or a Priestess of Horus, to help 'ease' her life until her dying day. While they had claimed their devotion to the Jewel of the Nile as an honorable privilege, Amunet saw them as no different than she was, their lives predeterminedly taken without their say-so.

Needless to say, Amunet never had to lift a finger for herself. Everything was taken care of for her. Her handmaidens fed, dressed and bathed her. Her priestesses took care of the clerical duties of caring for her temple and praying room, or they traveled to outlying villages to tend to the "trivial" matters of those who requested for the advice of the Jewel of the Nile. Not that Amunet could do anything by herself if she so desired.

The whispers of the world were sometimes far too distracting for Amunet to form a coherent thought let alone remember to eat and drink. She was at a constant battle with herself to not get too swept up within the power of her gift. Hence why the simple act of getting dressed was such a difficult task… she didn't bother to remember where her closet was.

Amunet relied on skin contact in order for her gift to work, and her people wanted her to be able to "see all" at all times, so most of her clothes were designed to expose as much of her flesh as possible yet still preserve her modesty. Since she was about to take on a journey on her own without the aid of her handmaidens or diligent guards, she needed to find one of her less revealing outfits. Amunet needed to be as focused as possible, and the more covered she was the less distracted she would be from the elements whispering to her thoughts.

After quietly opening and inspecting any door which contained a handle or knob that lined her bedroom walls, Amunet eventually came across one that led to her closet. She was dismayed to discover that her closet was essentially another room in itself, equal to the size of her private chambers (if not bigger). Colorful fabrics of various materials were dressed on full bodied mannequins that bared her exact measurements. Did she really change outfits that much? Amunet silently looked at each of the garments, each appearing to be more revealing than the last. Nothing she could see seemed suited for her journey, not if she wanted to remain focus and in control of her own mind. The further she ventured into her closet, the more frustrated Amunet became. Who made her clothes, anyway? Her handmaidens, perhaps? Or was it her priestesses? Nearing the back of her closet, Amunet spotted a mannequin that stood out from the rest (in that it was fully covered from head to toe).

The material was made from a sheer black fabric, see-through enough that Amunet could vaguely see the pale marble of the mannequin underneath, but the sleeves were long and flowy, the hem of the gown reached all the way to the floor, and a matching shawl was draped around the mannequin's faceless head. While the outfit wasn't ideal it was the only piece Amunet could find that provided more cover than any of her other garments. Putting on the gown was easy enough, she simply mimicked what she saw on the other mannequins.

The only thing Amunet did not have was shoes. Did she even own shoes? Her feet were always bare. Curses. If Amunet had to walk around barefoot, her journey would be ten times more difficult, and she had to focus. Gnawing on her bottom lip, Amunet debated on where she could find herself a pair of shoes.

Curses, no! No more hesitation, Amunet inwardly chastised, deeply frowning. I can do this. I need to do this. Resolute, Amunet clenched and unclenched her hands in an effort to battle against her tremors of anxiety. Now that she took notice, she discovered her whole body was trembling.

Could she do this? Could she go against her brother and follow what she thought was right? Was she right?

"...Nettie…"

Amunet tensed, her muscles tightly coiled, at the sound of His voice whispering through her thoughts. What normally would bring her comfort filled her with unease. She was essentially caught between choosing the savior or her brother. One could potentially save the world, the other had given up his free will for her protection.

In a daze, Amunet turned around and walked out of her closet. As she entered her private chambers, she set her solemn gaze on Ardeth. The steady rise and fall of his broad chest as he slept peacefully did not help to elevate her feeling of apprehension. A cloud of doubt hung heavy over her subconscious.

Could Amunet help fulfill the prophecy without Ardeth's aid? Why could he not see the hope that lies beyond the sacrifice? Her choice would have been so much easier if he were on her side. However, if Amunet were to do as Ardeth asked and let the prophecy pass, who was to say that Imhotep wouldn't rise in the future? Without the savior, the cursed Keeper of the Dead would surely succeed in his conquest to rule the world after resurrecting Anck-su-namun.

The time to act was now.

Amunet forced herself to turn away from Ardeth, her mind made up and her decision finalized. She quietly padded over to her chamber door. The needs of the many outweigh the wants and needs of the few or the one. She gave Ardeth his chance to be by her side and he chose not to. Amunet reached for the complex locking mechanism which sealed the door from the inside, cautiously unfastening the several claps as quietly as she could manage.

Sneaking out of a heavily guarded village was no easy task, even with the use of the Eye… but it was not impossible. In order to successfully sneak away Amunet would have to give up the one thing she could honestly call her own: the control she had over her physical body. With her hand grasping the door handle, Amunet forced her body to relax. Her taut, tense muscles slowly melted into a relaxed slouch, and only then did she allow her mind to drift. A wet sensation formed at the top of her head, slowly spreading out like a thick gel being poured over her body. "...Guide me..." she exhaled in a breathy whisper, giving permission for the Eye to take full control. In a trance like daze, Amunet fluidly maneuvered through the shadows of her village, narrowly avoiding the guards who patrolled her secluded hideaway.

When Amunet came to, she bumped face first into the furry side of a sand colored camel. Blinking away her haze, she reached out to affectionately run her fingers long the camel's long neck, gently scratching in areas she knew the poor animal couldn't reach on its own. The camel released a loud groan, shaking its head and wiggling its behind at her touch. Amunet smiled, her gaze turning to the saddle conveniently attached to the camel's back. "Oh, I see. Will you be the one to help me get to Hamunaptra?" she inquired.

The camel readily stood up on its legs as its response.

"Thank you." Amunet beamed, a giggle escaping her plump lips. "But first…" she trailed off, turning to inspect the stables she had stumbled into. "Whoever saddled you must have… Ah ha!" Laid across a wooden table near her camel friend was a brown leather saddle bag, its compartments full and bulky, packed and ready to be loaded. Amunet grabbed hold of the thick leather straps and tugged them over her shoulder.

Living life pampered as a deity tends to leave the recipient soft. Amunet carried no upper body strength beyond the need to lift anything beyond a gold chalice embedded with gems.

As soon as the saddle bag slid over the edge of the sturdy table, Amunet plummeted to the ground with a startled yelp. The bag weighed heavy on her back, pressing uncomfortably against the base of her spine. The warm sand cushioned her fall, but its grainy texture rubbed unpleasantly against her skin. She groaned, a puff of sand blowing out from her huff of air, and she shifted so that her hands and knees were in a position to where she could push herself up. However, whenever she tried to lift herself her palms and knees would sink deeper into the soft sand from the added pressure.

Curses!

Time was running out. Whoever was packing the camel was sure to come back to finish the job, and when they discovered who she was, Amunet was sure Ardeth would never let her leave her temple, again.

Unexpected weightlessness caused Amunet to stop her valiant wiggling. She lifted her head and peered up at the sand colored camel who had come to her rescue, gaping when she realized that the camel had used its teeth to pick up the saddle bag and throw it over its back all by itself. "You could have done that this entire time?" Amunet pouted, a mock glare directed at her camel friend.

The camel released a loud groan, laying down on the sand in front of Amunet.

"Right, no time to argue. We must make haste." Amunet scrambled to her feet, flailing sand everywhere as she hastily clambered on top of the camel's saddle. She hunched over, reaching out to run her hand along the back of the camel's neck. "Trust your instincts, keep to the shadows," she whispered. "Take me to Hamunaptra."

The camel raised to its hooves, quickly trotting out of the stables.

Amunet did not look back.

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Hamunaptra was not far from Amunet's village. She walked in the Valley of the Shadow of Death, a being trapped between the world of the living and the afterlife of death. She was stationed near the City of the Dead in order to keep watch over the evil who plagued its ruins. Should anyone come close to discovering the city's true secrets, she would be the first to know. Should Imhotep rise, she would be the first to know.

Constant vigilance. Always on. Always working. No peace. No time for rest. Just visions and thoughts that were hardly ever her own. She was no one, yet deemed highly important. Property to be protected yet shared.

Amunet slumped in the camel's saddle, resting her forearms across the horn. Her secret trips to Hamunaptra were the only times where she truly felt free. No one was there to watch and judge her, expecting nothing but sheer perfection from that of a deity. A miniscule smile formed on Amunet's lips. She serenely watched the night horizon over the smooth sand dunes, glittering hues of purples and deep blues blended together to form a picturesque sight.

The sand colored camel slowed to a stop at the edge of a hill, groaning out loud to capture Amunet's attention. She looked away from the starry night sky, gazing out at the seemingly endless desert. They had arrived. Amunet clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth twice, tapping the heels of her feet against the sides of her camel friend. At the silent command, the camel began to kick at the sand hill they were perched on, and like a swell of a lake the sand fell and fanned out below them. With each fallen wave of the golden grains an image began to replace the deceitful sight of an barren desert.

Toppled obelisks, crumblings columns, and sunken limestone slabs created the majority of the ruins of Hamunaptra, the City of the Dead, the rest were buried underneath the unforgiving desert. Once the sand finished doing its work of revealing the city to Amunet, she gently nudged her camel friend to go forward to their destination.

The same as the other times in which Amunet visited, a figure awaited her at the edge of the forgotten city. He stood erect, a fading image of a once powerful man who was mistaken to be a God, but he was as human as any other being on this Earth. Even in the cover of night, his cooper skin glowed and his intense gaze burned underneath the moonlight. When basking in Ardeth underneath the same illumination of the moon he appeared alluring and beautiful to Amunet, but this man who waited for her at Hamunaptra had the exact opposite effect, the moonlight made him appear more sinister and menacing. Dark, tattered robes covered his tall, lean frame, the holes of his formally royal clothing revealed hints of a firm chest, a slim abdomen, and strong limbs. He was a man cursed to walk in the Shadow of Death, similar to Amunet, but only as the essence of his once glorious self — with no physical body.

Imhotep.

The sand colored camel came to a dead stop just before the border of the city, refusing to go any further. Amunet did not blame the poor animal, Hamunaptra was cursed and Imhotep's spiritual presence did not help soothe the thick, near suffocating air. She climbed off the camel's back, walking the rest of the way to the city on her own.

"It has been long since your last visit," Imhotep remarked in his native tongue. Amunet could feel that he was anxious, the air around him practically tingled with an electric like charge that raised the hairs along her body. He was trying to keep a facade of nonchalance when he smoothly strided to met her at the border, but his eyes gave way to his true emotion. "I feared that you had been caught."

Imhotep was lonely, forced to haunt Hamunaptra for all eternity in close proximity to his mummified body. With the City of the Dead long forgotten he had no one but his flesh eating scarab beetles for company, until Amunet's curiosity led her straight to him. The conversation was tentative at first, Imhotep watched her from afar, unknowing that she could sense him, but when she spoke of her gift of the Eye he quickly latched onto her like a leech, feeding off her endless spiritual energy so that he could form a full bodied apparition.

Afterwards, Imhotep spoke to Amunet about his life before his "unjustified" death, of his duties as a High Priest and Keeper of the Dead, how his love for Anck-su-namun first began and turned into something everlasting, how he yearned for revenge against those who tore them apart, and how all he wanted was have a chance to live an unburdened life with his one true love.

In turn, Amunet vented to Imhotep about her life as the Jewel of the Nile. How her every waking moment was preplanned, and how she felt like she had became a tool rather than a person. Against her better judgement, in those moments Imhotep had grown to become her friend and confidant, and when she first experienced the prophecy about his resurrection and the immediate destruction and chaos he caused soon after she was heartbroken.

No matter which way Amunet tried to look at the prophecy, hoping to find a way to save her friend, she would come to the conclusion that Imhotep had to be stopped. Each time she had a vision of his revival, mayhem followed.

"I am guarded now more than ever," Amunet replied in ancient egyptian, her cluttered mind fluently translating the language. "The time of your resurrection draws near and—"

"They want you where I cannot find you," Imhotep finished, his expression twisted in anger. He sharply spun on his feet, his tattered robes catching the wind and billowing with the breeze. "Medjai fools think they can hide you from me." He scoffed, releasing a bark of sardonic laughter as he circled around her. "When I am reborn I will be invincible, and I will have you by my side. Your gifts are wasted on them." Imhotep stopped in his pacing and faced Amunet, determination and rage clear in his intense gaze. "With you and Anck-su-namun, the world will bow at our feet."

Amunet watched as the ghost of the madman before her stalked toward her like a predator would its prey. She nearly flinched when Imhotep reached out to touch her, but then she remembered that he was nothing but a shadow (for now). His fingers went straight through her living flesh as it had always done when he had tried many times before, and at the phantom touch Amunet felt a cold slightly numbing sensation against her cheek. Imhotep growled, a narrowed glare directed at their 'connected' contact. He sharply withdrew his hand and staggered back, away from her. Again, his face contorted into a mask of fury which marred his handsome features. In his anger he lifted his head and bellowed out a long cry of rage at the heavens.

Amunet had given up on reasoning with Imhotep. She tried to convince him, at first, that if he were to be resurrected he should leave the world alone and live in peace with Anck-su-namun (after she, too, was revived), but as always she was ignored; a common trait in the most important men in her life, it seemed.

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Reviews, comments, and criticism are always welcomed; flames—tolerated.

.author's note. According to research, there is a three year gap before Rick returned to Hamunaptra after his battalion was wiped out by Tuaregs. Naturally, I assume Jonathan pick-pocketed Rick the same day that Rick was imprisoned (since he was still drunk when he showed Evie the puzzle box, and it is known that Jonathan did the crime at the 'local casbah' which is the name of a bar). In discovering the large time gap, what I have decided to do was revamp this story a bit. I intend to introduce the Carnahan siblings into the storyline earlier than the movie intended. Nothing too major will change, I assure you! I just didn't want to do a huge time jump in the story because three years is such a long gap.