Chapter 12: Haiti, Her Home

Harker was frantic, moving about the room of the Pale Pair in search of a clue or a hint as to just what Carol had been doing before she had been kidnapped. He threw aside dresses and jewels, the servants who had been orders to tend to him, with Unasu also disappeared, flinching as a golden bangle crashed into the far wall with a frightening strength.

He was breathing deep in his attempts to loosen the tension in his diaphragm, feeling the possibility of a rather unfortunate fit threatening to take hold of him should he allow himself to be dragged under. There was no time for that, however, and the Westerner ploughed on, upturning the pillows and blankets that he had left for Carol to sleep in isolation in the night before.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he hissed, striding over to the window as if he could scold the girl wherever she was.

Harker scowled before pausing and shouting out, spotting the General Minue returning from the desert search with some of his men. He ran down to meet them, disregarding the calls of his entourage and, it seemed, he was the first to meet the soldiers upon their return.

"Have you found anything?" he asked quickly, looking to the military leader.

"Well, not qui-"Minus began, only to get cut off by the Westerner.

"I'm not the Pharaoh, General, you don't need to try and sugar coat...Sweeten it. Just say if you've found literally anything," Harker insisted, recognising the tone.

General Minus seemed to relax a bit, though stumped by the 'sugar coat' term that was tossed up in the white man's strange language. He nodded and reached for a man to step forward, two pieces of cloth in hand.

"We've found two pieces that we believe are related. The first we are sure is Carol's cape," Harker took it gently and sifted through it, before retracting harshly as the tacky texture of drying blood stuck to his fingers. He began to spit English profanity, and though the Egyptians couldn't understand the tongue, the emotion was clear for them to comprehend. "We've also found this alongside it."

The white man took the smaller cloth and frowned, vaguely recognising the embroidery that followed the fabric, but not truly being able to place any such memory.

"We believe it to be Haitian," Minue supplied, seeing the unsure recognition.

"Haitian!?" Harker coughed.

"Yes, it may be in retaliation to the situation with the princess that was rumoured to have gone missing," he nodded, misunderstanding the surprise as the majority realisation. "We'll have to tell the Pharaoh immediately."

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Oh, things were going straight to fucking hell in a handbasket!

Harker nodded and handed over the pieces again, before pausing and stopping the soldiers from continuing up to the king.

"That prisoner you were interrogating before," he started, finally placing where he had seen the pattern; it had been on the prisoner's tunic from when Carol had forged a rather janky sword. "He is Haitian, yes?"

Minue nodded with interest, perhaps already adding the man to his plans now that the memory had been refreshed.

"Indeed! I will be sure to question him again, he may have known of the plan!"

"...Maybe," Harker uttered carefully, before parting with the Ancient. "Thank you for the help, General!"

"Of course!"

Haitians. Haitians were the one behind this and it was all in retaliation. God, Harker should have known this would happen! But really, how should he have known? Warfare and force as a response to anything had been put well onto the back burner for years in the 21st century. He had gotten too cozy with this whole situation; this was the wake-up call he deserved for being a bludger.

"I need to talk to the Haitian," he muttered quietly, feeling the hot stone sting his bare feet. Then the shouts of his keepers called out, the people finally having caught up from his dead dash. "But first, I need to get rid of these people. How am I going to do that…?"

The servants that had been allocated to Harker were plentiful, no less than nine men and boys following the Westerner's every motion to satisfy the Pharaoh's paranoia. It was designed in a way that, no matter what Harker thought up, there would be at least two people around him at any point in time, even if it was just the smallest boy - who, Harker had found, was rather swift on his feet.

"Oh, screw it," he sighed, crossing his arms. "Time to ask permission again," the man trotted back up the stairs and grimaced as he approached the teenaged king, seemingly not yet having received the news. Perhaps Minus was briefing someone else first?

"Pharaoh," he called, dropping down on his belly beside the Ancient, his daybed upon a risen platform and received a long look from the man. Harker thinned his lips internally but didn't pull away from the look of warped, entitled affection that was cast onto him, keeping his plan in mind. "I want to sleep but your minions keep following me around. Call them off already," he whined, fighting not to withdraw as a tanned hand rose and cupped his cheek, feeling his hot skin.

"Sorry, Harker, but they're there to keep you safe," Memphis hummed, obviously pleased. The rest of the room seemed to calm down, and Harker frowned at that. The Pharaoh must have been throwing tantrums again - though, he supposed he couldn't blame him this time. "I will not remove them."

"But I'm fine," he groaned, dropping his head away from the hand and onto his own arms, trying to make the actions as open and 'see-through' as possible. "No one's going to kidnap me!"

Not a lie.

"No, Harker, I won't call them away," Memphis denied again, a firmness coming to his voice that showed he wasn't going to be gentle for very much longer, and that Harker's gateway was shrinking. "Why are you so desperate to sleep?" the king growled suddenly, "Carol's been kidnapped, for the gods' sake!"

"I'm tired, Pharaoh, do you think I've slept since yesterday?" Harker shot back, "What use will I be if I'm dead on my feet. I've learnt my lesson for that once-" well, not really, "and I intend on getting a good sleep so I can throttle the people who took her with fucking dental floss."

The Pharaoh blinked at the weird language that had been tossed in but understood the threat to a life existed somewhere in the uttered syllables.

Harker licked his lips in thought, trying to think of a plan. Then he paused, Memphis had followed that minute action intently. The Australian fought off a groan of despair as he realised just what he was going to crucify for this meeting. This Haitian man better be worth it!

"How about a deal?" he offered, shuffling closer to the king, resting his chin on his palm with a lazy look. "I'll give you a kiss, and in exchange, I get to sleep uninterrupted. Now that's a key word here, 'uninterrupted'."

Memphis ground to a halt, eyes widening and gaining a darkened shine that Harker had grown used to seeing in reference to the 'Pale Pair'. It made Harker bit his tongue, a well up of guilt coming when he saw just how excited the Pharaoh was at the proposal and how he was essentially playing with the man's heart.

It was fine, he was trying to achieve a greater goal here. He could ask for forgiveness later.

"Deal, Pharaoh?" Harker hummed, tilting his head a bit and smiling in a way he was only slightly ashamed to say he had practised in the mirror during many of the nights of his high school career.

"Very well," Memphis coughed, catching himself becoming too ensnared by the Australian. "I agree to your terms. You may rest uninterrupted by your attendants."

Harker smiled wider and got onto his hands, crawling to loom over the king in a manner that reminded the people around them of a falcon ready to burst from a branch, its prey selected and in sight. They watched in fearful fascination as the being of druzy loomed over their Pharaoh before he lowered himself down and planted a soft and affectionate kiss onto the Ancient.

Memphis hummed into the touch and enjoyed the contact with closed eyes, dark hand wrapping around the white bicep of the man above and feeling imperfections of skin under his palm.

"There," Harker huffed, lifting himself away a short distance. "Now, I'm going to sleep, 'kay?"

"Why not sleep here?" the king attempted, gesturing to the daybed.

"Nah, too loud," he denied gently, before getting to his feet and waving as he gave the teen a glance from over his shoulder. "I'll see you whenever, then, Pharaoh."

"Sleep well, Harker," Memphis called, voice still holding an airy quality to it.

The alabaster person walked through the people that parted for him, cape dragging on the wind and baring the symbol of the sun to them. The mark of the sun, the mark of Ra. This man, whose hair was as gold as Ra's rays, eyes as azure as the midday sky, skin as pale as freshly beaten sand.

Memphis sighed and relaxed into his daybed, reaching for a cup of warm wine and swallowing it lazily, much more relaxed. Harker had put his mind at ease in a way only those celestial beings could achieve, and he soon found himself dozing lightly, the stress having drained him.

"Your Harker is right, your majesty," a lord murmured bravely from the crowd that had fallen silent. "Rest is the best thing for you right now. The better rested you are, the more lethal you will be to the enemies of you and your Carol."

The Pharaoh regarded him for a moment, before huffing and rolling onto his side. He'd remain here so he could spring into action should news arrive, but he'd follow the example set by the Western man and allow his body recess.

He just hoped Carol had such a luxury, wherever she was.

()()()

"Fond memories of this place," Harker scoffed sarcastically, treading through the humid dungeons with a cloak hung over his head. "Now, if I were a Haitian-hating Egyptian Ancient dude, where would I put said hated Haitian?"

He tread lightly through the stone halls before pausing as a groan rippled along the air, pained gasps and wheezes bringing him to a cell that looked no different to the others. He frowned and narrowed his eyes in the gloom before hissing in sympathy as the raw back of a man was exposed to him, the wounded being wrapped in on himself in a fetal position as he moaned in pain.

"Hey," the Australian man whispered, making the ailed flinch instinctively, before slowly looking over his shoulder and mustering up the courage to glare at the stranger clad in Egyptian riches. "Hey, you're Haitian, yes?"

"...What's it to you?" he grunted out from between gritted teeth.

"Do you know what's going on in terms of Carol?" Harker asked, before pausing at the blank look. "The daughter of the Nile."

"Pah, I don't need to tell you anything."

Harker thinned his lips to regain patience, before sighing out from his nose and leaning forward to the gate, lowering his voice further.

"Would you tell me if I gave you something in exchange?" Great, more deals. "Something I think you'll really want."

"You could never give me what I want, Egyptian dog."

"What about your princess? Milanun?"

In an instant, Harker launched himself back as a hand lashed out from between the bars, the man hissing at him in rage and enmity.

"You have her!?" he boomed, voice crawling up the halls of the dungeon, getting a curse from the Australian.

"Shut up, man!" Harker hissed quietly, "You think I'm meant to be down here?"

There was a moment of stillness, both men listening to see if the guards would come trudging down the path, disgruntled and ready to give pain. They waited a moment more, still nothing.

"Look, I don't have much time and from what I'm hearing up top, neither do you. So do we have a deal?" the Westerner pressed, urgency in his voice.

The Haitian soldier measured him for a moment before nodding and pulling away from the fence, "you show me my princess and I will tell you where your daughter of the Nile is and what has been planned for her."

"Brilliant," he nodded, before looking at the security of this door.

It was different to the latch of Seichi's door that had been deeper in the dungeons, and it was likely due to this man's cell being on of high traffic and needing to be opened readily. Harker unlatched a device on the wall and gave huffed breaths as he worked a straining pulley system which made the gate groan before lifting out of divets in the stone.

"How're your injuries, are you able to move well enough?" Harker asked, putting everything back as the man brushed himself down.

"I can handle it."

The Australian nodded before guiding the man up the stairs and past the dozing guards, using back halls and narrow passages to eventually reach a low window. They hopped from readily onto the back gardens of the palace which Harker recognised as the vantage point Carol and he had once used to spy upon the court on their first days in this strange time.

"Keep down," he urged and tugged the hood of his cloak over his golden hair before shuffling through the undergrowth of plants, hearing his companion follow. "What's your name?"

"Lifet," was the short response.

"I'm Harker," came his own reply.

"Where is the princess? Is she alive?"

"She's in a safe house in the slave village," Harker supplied quietly, jumping across a small divot in the ground. "And she is very much alive, I assure you."

"That's wonderful," Lifet sighed, sounding near to tears in his relief.

"We'll need to walk for a little while longer from here, but the village isn't too far."

They made their way to the village of clay and slaves with caution and speed, not tempting the morning sun's radiance upon their bodies for too long, but also wary of Egyptian soldiers which may have been scouting the sands.

"Is that it?" the Haitian asked, gesturing to the buildings which peaked over the horizon of dunes.

"That's it alright, come on!"

They made the last stretch promptly and ducked into the shade of the houses with gratitude, the people of Gosen turning their eyes away courteously as the strangers walked past. Harker found the path to Sephora's realm easily and knocked on the door in a pattern that was an ode to 'Waltzing Matilda' - not that anyone really knew that.

"Miss Sephora, this is a Haitian soldier, Lifet," Harker explained as he closed the door behind them. "Is Milanun here?"

"Yes, of course, she is," Sephora huffed, before turning her attention upon the injured soldier. "Oh, look at you! Come, sit down. Harker where did you put all the salves?"

"Uh, under the cabinets!" he called back, turning around to a small section divided off by a tattered curtain and plucked it aside to see the Haitian princess curled up and snoozing in the dark. "Lazy princess," he snorted, before kneeling down and poking her cheek.

Milunun jolted awake at the touch, making Harker frown but he quickly dismissed it to smile at the girl when she spun to see him crouched beside her.

Her eyes widened before the princess grinned and wrapped her arms around the man, tossing her weight upon him as she cooed in a giddy greeting. She hummed as Harker hugged her back and ran his hand along her spine, petting away dust and debris as he laughed.

"Hello to you too, princess. Now, how's your leg?" he asked, running his fingers through her hair and straightening what had been knocked askew by sleep.

"Much better," the Haitian princess answered, following the man into the main room and sitting down on a bench, allowing him to take her leg in grasp and examine the divot scar. "And what about you, dear prince? Has that Pharaoh been-"

"My princess!" Lifet gasped, stumbling towards them despite how Sephora tutted at him. "My princess, thank the gods you're alive and well!"

Milanun sat straight in a moment, her atmosphere shifting near on instinct as she looked from Harker to the soldier who shuddered into a kneeling bow.

"You are a Haitian soldier!" she exclaimed.

"Yeah," Harker smiled, standing and helping the girl to her feet as well. "It's time for you to go home, Milanun."

"The prince Izumin has stopped at nothing to learn of you since you disappeared; he led an entire entourage into the heart of Egyptian territory in search of you!"

The royal's eyes widened at the words, and though she felt the bloom of excitement in her stomach, the reality of an ending was making her cold. She'd need to leave now; she hadn't thought of a way to take her Harker with her!

"What about you?" she asked carefully, trying to keep a hold of his hands as he moved away to begin collecting for her travel.

"Hm, me?" Harker repeated, looking over his shoulder. "Well, it seems I'm going with you."

With her? Milanun felt her heart bloom with warmth and become as light as air itself as she watched the man gather remedies and dry meats into a sack. Her fingertips tingled with the buzzing of a heartbeat as she felt her lips pull.

"You're coming?" she uttered again, wanting to hear him promise her company once more.

"Well yes," he nodded, before looking to the soldier who was being wrapped in bandages to protect his wounds from the desert sand. "I've upheld my end of the deal, Lifet, now you."

"Of course," Lifet grunted, wincing as Sephora tugged the bindings tight. "We thought the princess was dead due to finding her headpiece in the marketplace along with traces of blood -"

"And you decided to give Egypt a bit of payback?" Harker snipped without so much as looking away from his task, remembering the cape with a splattering of blood that had been left for the General Minue to find as a payment in kind.

"...I'm sure the prince will return the daughter of the Nile to you once princess Milanun is safe in Haiti," the soldier coughed.

Milanun sat back down on the edge of the bench, her joy extinguished as she realised that Harker was not coming out of affection for her, but in order to retrieve Carol.

Carol. Always Carol.

Her hands became fists in her lap as she grit her teeth from behind her thinned lips, eyes narrowed at the hard-packed earth as an ugly feeling bubbled in her stomach. Jealousy and distress warped itself around her insides, urging the unsightly wrath of a woman to seep out.

"Milanun?" Harker hummed, coming over to her and placing a hand on her shoulder. "Is something wrong?"

The Haitian royal was startled out of her darkness at the touch and she looked up to see azure gazing down at her with concern. Concern for her, not Carol. Not right now.

She could work with this.

"Yes, prince," she sighed leaning her cheek against his arm. "Just a bit nervous."

She could work with this, yes. Carol would be the reason Harker would come, but by the Gods, Milanun will be the reason he will stay.

"Mm, me too," the Australian man laughed, scratching her scalp a bit in friendly affection. "Do you...want another hug? Will it help?"

"Princess!" Lifet gaped, appalled by the brazen request from the man. "Pay this man no mind, I will-"

Milanun smiled and leant forward as he wrapped his arms around her, her skin burning where he touched. She murmured a gentle note and nosed deeper into his shoulder to find more of smokey eucalyptus and sea salt that had stained the man's skin from whatever land he had been spirited from, pressing her lips against his flesh as he scratched a light pattern along her spine.

Neither of the two bothered with the spluttering soldier who flailed helplessly in the corner of the room, Sephora amused and heartened by the scene.

"Come on, we need to get ready," Harker murmured after a few moments, letting her go and getting back to full height.

Milanun nodded before getting to her feet and gratefully accepting an old cloak from Sephora, the tattered and musty material her hair and Haitian aristocratic features. She bent and bound her leg once more to protect it from the heat and sand, nodding to the soldier who looked equally livid and terrified as he laid his eyes on the scar.

"My princess, when-"

"It's fine, Lifet," she soothed, taking a skin of water from Harker as he walked past. "It's practically all healed now, right, Harker?"

"Hm? Yeah, it's just about done I'd say. But don't go kicking anything too soon, the skin may rip."

Lifet looked ready to blow a top and storm the palace himself hopped up on his own rage, but was stopped from his tirade as a bag was shoved into his arms by the Australian.

"We're going to need to use a boat to get to Haiti, yeah? " he asked, helping Sephora pack up the medical salves of aloe vera and other such remedies. "Do you know of a way to get to one? I don't have any of your or Egyptian currency, but if needed I can pawn off all this glittery shit the Pharaoh slapped me with."

The last of his words were accented with alabaster fingers tugging at the golden collar which hung from his neck, beads and bejewelled fabrics snapping light and reflecting patterns onto his pale complexion.

"I don't think that will be necessary," Lifet huffed, still disgruntled by the man's brazen contact with a royal of Haiti. "There are plenty of loyal Haitians who would give us passage under the banner of the royal family."

Milanun backed his words with a nod, fixing a clasp of her earring absently. She felt tense, the fear of all the things that could go wrong hovering in the back of her mind - but she refused to bow to it. Not now anyway, when she was home and safe, then she'd allow herself to buckle amongst familiar company.

"Great," Harker hummed, grabbing up his sack and hanging it over his shoulder. "Then we better get going. The Pharaoh thinks I'm still in the palace."

Then he turned to the Egyptian mother who had watched on, her hands tightly clasped as she measured her breath. Harker smiled and crossed the distance, wrapping his arms around her and murmuring gentle thank you's to the woman.

"It's fine, Harker. I wish I could do more," Sephora sighed, leaning into the hug with a wrung laugh. "You all be safe, okay? Look after each other."

"We will," Milanun nodded, coming to stand beside the man and getting an arm wrapped around her shoulder in companionship.

"Ready to go home?" he asked her again as they stood at the door, the afternoon painting the sky a burnt orange.

"Yes," she breathed, grabbing hold of his pale hand and followed the soldier to Haiti.