By the end of the week, Imhotep had been able to convince himself
that he'd imagined the voice that had spoken to him in his head. He didn't
go as far as to try to guess who it was he'd imagined, however, for fear
that he might really be going insane. He'd heard the voices of the gods
many times before, and he knew he could identify the imaginary speaker if
he wanted to.
But something had changed on that night. Something had happened between Amaya and himself that he couldn't possibly successfully explain. It was as if their thoughts had somehow fused together to a certain point; almost as if they were aware that they had feelings for each other, and therefore no longer feared the other's reaction to an embrace, or a playful touch, for they knew that it would be received willingly, though neither one would admit to it. Such freedom each enjoyed exploiting, and they'd never admit to that either.
The days were starting to go by faster now. The heavy, enormous papyrus calendar that hung in his room reminded him every time he looked at it that his bliss was to meet an end very soon. It had come down to two weeks and a day. He had only fifteen more days until eternal suffering became his unavoidable fate.
If nothing else, the knowledge of his limited days would be enough to drive him mad by the time it was up. He was quite positive his stay in the Underworld would be an unpleasant one; Anubis held grudges very eagerly. Hope was draining out of him with every passing hour. His smile had already begun to fade.
This fact did not escape Amaya at all.
It was early morning, a Saturday, and though most in the neighborhood were still tucked soundly beneath their down-feather quilts, Imhotep could find no sleep. He'd crept downstairs and found refuge in his couch in the living room, his favorite, a soft, springy, oversized cotton one that Amaya had found at an American store on one of her shopping trips several months back. There was no fire, for the maids had the morning off every other Saturday. He wasn't too cold though. He had his thick, navy woolen robe and a cup of coffee to keep him warm.
His couch faced the wide bay windows that overlooked the vast stretch of green moor behind the mansion. There he could sit and watch the sun rise over the treetops. There he could allow his thoughts to wander in places he normally wouldn't let it wander.
There was one place specifically that he was determined never to let roam free. It was that one place where his passion could run wild, where he could imagine how soft her lips were without chastising himself; where he could dream about waking up at her side, seeing her face first thing in the morning for the rest of his life, without feeling that unbearable loneliness he always felt when she wasn't around.
An hour passed without heed. The sun began to announce its arrival with brilliant splashes of color on the high, wispy clouds. Imhotep's breathing was rhythmic, almost as if he was asleep, but he was only in a deep reverie. He could almost feel her skin beneath his fingertips.
A fire roared to life within the fireplace beside him. He blinked, startled from his trance, and gazed at it with a bewildered frown.
"It's cold down here, love," Amaya said from behind him. "Surely you know how to start a fire." Her sarcasm made him grin as he turned his head to greet her. She knew very well that he never started a fire on Saturdays. He wanted the complete silence that the crackling flames could not provide.
"Good morning to you, too," he replied with mock innocence in his soft voice. The golden light of the sun glinted off her hair, and stained her white robe orange. She smiled and took a seat beside him, taking his coffee cup from his hands and setting it onto the end table with a look of mild disgust. Imhotep chuckled; Amaya hated coffee with a passion that rivaled many.
With the coffee out of the way, Amaya gratefully curled up beside Imhotep, smiling as he casually put his arm around her. She jumped and muttered something under her breath when his fingers brushed her arm. His hands, she noted, were freezing.
He chuckled. There was that link, that fusion of thoughts. Neither of them dreaded to touch one another anymore. Amaya was very cold-natured, what with being a goddess of a hot desert country. She loved everything she touched to be comfortable and warm. Without a doubt, his hands would be warm very soon, what with her so near him.
"I want to take you to Egypt, Imhotep," she said in a soft voice, keeping her gaze straight ahead, towards the sun. His eyes widened as he looked at her.
"Why?"
"Because you haven't been there yet, and I want Azana to see it," her tone was unarguable, but nevertheless, Imhotep heaved a morose sigh.
She lifted her head and peered up at him curiously.
"Don't sigh at me, love," she chastised lightly, using the word she often tacked onto the end of her phrases, 'love', to identify him as she did many others. "I know you have no desire to see our country's beauty so crumbled." Imhotep raised his eyebrows and gave her a lopsided smile. She'd been right of his motives. His great empire was dead, and he wasn't the kind of person who enjoyed visiting its grave. "However, should you go-" Her voice trailed off with that mischievous tone he so often beheld within it. "The rewards would be well worth it." His expression changed to skeptical. There were only a few things he could think of that would be worth traveling to Egypt for, though he wasn't inclined to delve too much into them, for fear of his thoughts being scanned by his goddess.
Despite the rewards Amaya offered, there was little else to look forward to should he consent to go. Case in point: the Medjai. Egypt was overrun by them nowadays, he was sure. They'd done nothing but multiply over the millennia; gone into hiding after the Pharaohs had died out. And what of the tourism? He was positive he wouldn't approve of all the cheap rip-offs the venders and merchants sold in Cairo and Thebes.
"I really don't think we should go." At that moment, Azana appeared in the doorway clutching her big, fluffy white teddy bear, looking somewhat sleepy-eyed, but cheerful all the same. She walked over to her parents and Amaya scooted away from Imhotep to let their little girl snuggle between them.
"Go where, father?" Azana asked, leaning her head on Amaya's shoulder and closing her eyes as Amaya wrapped her arms around her daughter.
"To Egypt, love," Amaya whispered before Imhotep could get a word in. Azana's eyes snapped open, and she sat straight up. She gazed up at her father despondently.
"You don't want to go?!" She squeaked, as if, by law, to deny a trip to Egypt were an unforgivable sin. Amaya threw her head back and laughed joyously. Imhotep sent her an irritated smirk.
"Maybe not right now. You'll be back in school in what, three weeks?" A week after he'd been taken away from her. Grief stabbed at him. Would she remember him? Would Amaya put her in a family with different parents? Would Amaya even let her exist? But no, those were questions that would have plagued him at the beginning. He knew without a doubt that Amaya loved Azana. He knew now that Azana would be taken care of. At the moment, however, the poor girl looked completely crestfallen, not only at the mention of the school year, but at the obvious excuse that hid her father's real motive.
"But you were really thinking about going?" She asked hopefully.
"One of us was," he replied flatly, giving Amaya his irritated look again. His blatancy was lost on his little girl though, and she took it seriously.
"We could stay for a week! I'd be back in plenty of time for school, father. Two weeks, even!" Much to Imhotep's dismay, Amaya then joined in, leaning forward to put her hand on his arm and give him her sweetest, most innocent smile. He wasn't going to lie to himself; her touch all but melted his willpower, but he was sure he didn't want to see Egypt.
"Come on, love. Let's take her," she pleaded. Imhotep raised an eyebrow at her and sighed. Then she added in the softest of whispers the phrase that changed his decision: "Let her have this." Amaya's eyes held the slightest flutter of sadness. After a moment of hesitation, he took her hand and grinned.
"Alright," he whispered in response. His wife's smile made a feeling of warmth spread through him, and Azana's squeal of delight made him wince slightly. She was bouncing around the room in her happiness, and several of the maids rushed from their quarters to find the cause of her excitement. They peered cautiously into the room, greeted by the smiles of their employers.
Amaya stood up, side-stepped her daughter, who was busy twirling through the sunbeams in the center of the room, and approached the maids.
"Marian, Anna, be so kind as to rouse the others and bring them," the goddess instructed quickly. The maids disappeared with nods. "Azana, go get dressed; comfortable clothes, remember. Put your toys away in your room. We're leaving today." Swift as a dove, little Azana flew from the room with yet another giggly squeal. Imhotep's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Amaya looked to him and smiled.
"Don't look so surprised, Imhotep. We've no time to waste, for I have many things I wish to show you, and it will take us four days to get there by boat," she sat down beside him and leaned into him with a sweet smile. "Come on, let's go get dressed." She tugged on the sleeve of his robe, a habit of hers, though he doubted she knew how fond he was of it, and stood up again, pulling him with her. They made their way up the staircase and disappeared into their separate rooms.
Of course it was cruel of her to have done it. It was deceitful of her; conniving, even. She was acting like her son. Her actions had been wicked, and misleading, and untruthful.
And yet, it had worked like a charm. She'd taken Imhotep on a guilt trip so extravagant that she saw him travel it. She'd seen it in his eyes, and she'd sensed his decision. He didn't know that he would never fall into Anubis's hands, but Amaya did, and she'd used that to her advantage. He'd played right into her hands, and though she felt a small amount of repentance for her manipulation, she was nevertheless overjoyed.
They were going to Egypt. Imhotep had unknowingly set her plans in motion, and so far, everything was running smoothly.
Amaya grinned to herself as she slipped on her coat. Honestly, she couldn't understand why he'd been so surprised that she had already made the decision to go. Did he not know her well enough by now to tell that she almost never left anything up to that devious demon called Chance? And aside from that, she was in love with him; and love always strengthened her ability to influence others.
A maid knocked on her door and informed her that Amaya's packing was almost complete. Amaya quickly gave her the last instructions, tidbits about security and housekeeping, and sent the girl on her way. With one last look at her room, Amaya turned and went to join her family, knowing that the next time she returned, everything was going to be different.
But something had changed on that night. Something had happened between Amaya and himself that he couldn't possibly successfully explain. It was as if their thoughts had somehow fused together to a certain point; almost as if they were aware that they had feelings for each other, and therefore no longer feared the other's reaction to an embrace, or a playful touch, for they knew that it would be received willingly, though neither one would admit to it. Such freedom each enjoyed exploiting, and they'd never admit to that either.
The days were starting to go by faster now. The heavy, enormous papyrus calendar that hung in his room reminded him every time he looked at it that his bliss was to meet an end very soon. It had come down to two weeks and a day. He had only fifteen more days until eternal suffering became his unavoidable fate.
If nothing else, the knowledge of his limited days would be enough to drive him mad by the time it was up. He was quite positive his stay in the Underworld would be an unpleasant one; Anubis held grudges very eagerly. Hope was draining out of him with every passing hour. His smile had already begun to fade.
This fact did not escape Amaya at all.
It was early morning, a Saturday, and though most in the neighborhood were still tucked soundly beneath their down-feather quilts, Imhotep could find no sleep. He'd crept downstairs and found refuge in his couch in the living room, his favorite, a soft, springy, oversized cotton one that Amaya had found at an American store on one of her shopping trips several months back. There was no fire, for the maids had the morning off every other Saturday. He wasn't too cold though. He had his thick, navy woolen robe and a cup of coffee to keep him warm.
His couch faced the wide bay windows that overlooked the vast stretch of green moor behind the mansion. There he could sit and watch the sun rise over the treetops. There he could allow his thoughts to wander in places he normally wouldn't let it wander.
There was one place specifically that he was determined never to let roam free. It was that one place where his passion could run wild, where he could imagine how soft her lips were without chastising himself; where he could dream about waking up at her side, seeing her face first thing in the morning for the rest of his life, without feeling that unbearable loneliness he always felt when she wasn't around.
An hour passed without heed. The sun began to announce its arrival with brilliant splashes of color on the high, wispy clouds. Imhotep's breathing was rhythmic, almost as if he was asleep, but he was only in a deep reverie. He could almost feel her skin beneath his fingertips.
A fire roared to life within the fireplace beside him. He blinked, startled from his trance, and gazed at it with a bewildered frown.
"It's cold down here, love," Amaya said from behind him. "Surely you know how to start a fire." Her sarcasm made him grin as he turned his head to greet her. She knew very well that he never started a fire on Saturdays. He wanted the complete silence that the crackling flames could not provide.
"Good morning to you, too," he replied with mock innocence in his soft voice. The golden light of the sun glinted off her hair, and stained her white robe orange. She smiled and took a seat beside him, taking his coffee cup from his hands and setting it onto the end table with a look of mild disgust. Imhotep chuckled; Amaya hated coffee with a passion that rivaled many.
With the coffee out of the way, Amaya gratefully curled up beside Imhotep, smiling as he casually put his arm around her. She jumped and muttered something under her breath when his fingers brushed her arm. His hands, she noted, were freezing.
He chuckled. There was that link, that fusion of thoughts. Neither of them dreaded to touch one another anymore. Amaya was very cold-natured, what with being a goddess of a hot desert country. She loved everything she touched to be comfortable and warm. Without a doubt, his hands would be warm very soon, what with her so near him.
"I want to take you to Egypt, Imhotep," she said in a soft voice, keeping her gaze straight ahead, towards the sun. His eyes widened as he looked at her.
"Why?"
"Because you haven't been there yet, and I want Azana to see it," her tone was unarguable, but nevertheless, Imhotep heaved a morose sigh.
She lifted her head and peered up at him curiously.
"Don't sigh at me, love," she chastised lightly, using the word she often tacked onto the end of her phrases, 'love', to identify him as she did many others. "I know you have no desire to see our country's beauty so crumbled." Imhotep raised his eyebrows and gave her a lopsided smile. She'd been right of his motives. His great empire was dead, and he wasn't the kind of person who enjoyed visiting its grave. "However, should you go-" Her voice trailed off with that mischievous tone he so often beheld within it. "The rewards would be well worth it." His expression changed to skeptical. There were only a few things he could think of that would be worth traveling to Egypt for, though he wasn't inclined to delve too much into them, for fear of his thoughts being scanned by his goddess.
Despite the rewards Amaya offered, there was little else to look forward to should he consent to go. Case in point: the Medjai. Egypt was overrun by them nowadays, he was sure. They'd done nothing but multiply over the millennia; gone into hiding after the Pharaohs had died out. And what of the tourism? He was positive he wouldn't approve of all the cheap rip-offs the venders and merchants sold in Cairo and Thebes.
"I really don't think we should go." At that moment, Azana appeared in the doorway clutching her big, fluffy white teddy bear, looking somewhat sleepy-eyed, but cheerful all the same. She walked over to her parents and Amaya scooted away from Imhotep to let their little girl snuggle between them.
"Go where, father?" Azana asked, leaning her head on Amaya's shoulder and closing her eyes as Amaya wrapped her arms around her daughter.
"To Egypt, love," Amaya whispered before Imhotep could get a word in. Azana's eyes snapped open, and she sat straight up. She gazed up at her father despondently.
"You don't want to go?!" She squeaked, as if, by law, to deny a trip to Egypt were an unforgivable sin. Amaya threw her head back and laughed joyously. Imhotep sent her an irritated smirk.
"Maybe not right now. You'll be back in school in what, three weeks?" A week after he'd been taken away from her. Grief stabbed at him. Would she remember him? Would Amaya put her in a family with different parents? Would Amaya even let her exist? But no, those were questions that would have plagued him at the beginning. He knew without a doubt that Amaya loved Azana. He knew now that Azana would be taken care of. At the moment, however, the poor girl looked completely crestfallen, not only at the mention of the school year, but at the obvious excuse that hid her father's real motive.
"But you were really thinking about going?" She asked hopefully.
"One of us was," he replied flatly, giving Amaya his irritated look again. His blatancy was lost on his little girl though, and she took it seriously.
"We could stay for a week! I'd be back in plenty of time for school, father. Two weeks, even!" Much to Imhotep's dismay, Amaya then joined in, leaning forward to put her hand on his arm and give him her sweetest, most innocent smile. He wasn't going to lie to himself; her touch all but melted his willpower, but he was sure he didn't want to see Egypt.
"Come on, love. Let's take her," she pleaded. Imhotep raised an eyebrow at her and sighed. Then she added in the softest of whispers the phrase that changed his decision: "Let her have this." Amaya's eyes held the slightest flutter of sadness. After a moment of hesitation, he took her hand and grinned.
"Alright," he whispered in response. His wife's smile made a feeling of warmth spread through him, and Azana's squeal of delight made him wince slightly. She was bouncing around the room in her happiness, and several of the maids rushed from their quarters to find the cause of her excitement. They peered cautiously into the room, greeted by the smiles of their employers.
Amaya stood up, side-stepped her daughter, who was busy twirling through the sunbeams in the center of the room, and approached the maids.
"Marian, Anna, be so kind as to rouse the others and bring them," the goddess instructed quickly. The maids disappeared with nods. "Azana, go get dressed; comfortable clothes, remember. Put your toys away in your room. We're leaving today." Swift as a dove, little Azana flew from the room with yet another giggly squeal. Imhotep's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Amaya looked to him and smiled.
"Don't look so surprised, Imhotep. We've no time to waste, for I have many things I wish to show you, and it will take us four days to get there by boat," she sat down beside him and leaned into him with a sweet smile. "Come on, let's go get dressed." She tugged on the sleeve of his robe, a habit of hers, though he doubted she knew how fond he was of it, and stood up again, pulling him with her. They made their way up the staircase and disappeared into their separate rooms.
Of course it was cruel of her to have done it. It was deceitful of her; conniving, even. She was acting like her son. Her actions had been wicked, and misleading, and untruthful.
And yet, it had worked like a charm. She'd taken Imhotep on a guilt trip so extravagant that she saw him travel it. She'd seen it in his eyes, and she'd sensed his decision. He didn't know that he would never fall into Anubis's hands, but Amaya did, and she'd used that to her advantage. He'd played right into her hands, and though she felt a small amount of repentance for her manipulation, she was nevertheless overjoyed.
They were going to Egypt. Imhotep had unknowingly set her plans in motion, and so far, everything was running smoothly.
Amaya grinned to herself as she slipped on her coat. Honestly, she couldn't understand why he'd been so surprised that she had already made the decision to go. Did he not know her well enough by now to tell that she almost never left anything up to that devious demon called Chance? And aside from that, she was in love with him; and love always strengthened her ability to influence others.
A maid knocked on her door and informed her that Amaya's packing was almost complete. Amaya quickly gave her the last instructions, tidbits about security and housekeeping, and sent the girl on her way. With one last look at her room, Amaya turned and went to join her family, knowing that the next time she returned, everything was going to be different.
