Disclaimer: The sorcerer in the movie, though very pretty (Kelly Hu is rather hot), was a fluff character and I cannot see someone like the Scorpion King with a fluffy trophy, and so this was born. Before the King.
Before the King Part I: The Beauty and the Beast (I)
Medias felt the heat of the night. It prickled his skin and caused his long, black hair to cling to his scalp in clumps. His camel was at rest, as were his two companions and their horses. Medias, however, found the night restless in its sweltering heat. It choked away every chance of peaceful rest that he had, wrestling it away even as the body and mind screamed and protested for comfort to rest. Akkadians were not accustomed to comfort, but rest was a necessary luxury that all bodies need. Even assassins.
The stars spread their light upon the white sands still hot from the day's torture in the sun. Medias shifted onto his shoulder for the last time and sat up, running his hands over his sweat soaked hair. Sweat from the day and night saturated his body, encasing him and making the massive mountain of a man feel dirty and unclean. Cleanliness was another comfort he wasn't accustomed to, but a swim in the clear oasis not that far off would calm his restless soul and sooth the heat.
The waters were clean, cool and disturbed? This was not right! The sound of metal brushing against the leather sheath stirred not another sound as Medias watched the water. It rippled around a form that was unseen, hidden around a bend in the kidney shaped pond.
Who could be in the water so late? As far as he and his comrades knew, they were the only human beings around for miles, but the soft song he heard floating above the trickling sound of water was most definitely human, and female.
The large man crawled over the rock which shaped the water into a curve and peered over the edge, re-sheathing his weapon. He rest his chest upon the stone and felt the odd warmth seep into him.
Below in the water was a woman, younger than he was. She was slender, tall and from the dark line which she tenderly nursed with a cloth was obviously a wound of some sort. Her long hair fell into the water and pooled around her in an inky darkness matching his own dark locks, her skin, however, was not as dark. Her colour was almost white beneath the stars and moon which shed only a silver light upon the darkened land. He marvelled at the pallor of her skin, all of her skin. She was so pale and in such a climate. Medias wondered for a second if it was even possible.
With her pale skin she was automatically attractive to the large man. She was a rarity. A freak of nature, if you will.
While Medias milled over the thoughts of this treasure in the desert she rose from the water, apparently alerted to his presence. No longer were her movements slow and languid, her long legs pushed her to shore and in seconds she was dressed once more, and what shocked him more than her speed was the armour which she donned.
She wore lose pants. Pants! And a tight shirt, leather, which covered her upper body. He didn't even see her pick up a weapon but, gleaming in the night light, a sword flashed an angry silver in her hand.
"Who's out there?!" the woman demanded, standing with her legs spread, right hand holding the large weapon. "I demand to know who is out there!" Her voice boomed, seemingly louder as it shattered the utter silence.
Medias crept down his rock, clinging to it as much as he could without being seen. Would her voice wake his brothers? What dangers could arise from that? Quite obviously they wouldn't fault him for watching the woman as she bathed, but her punishment for being so close to them while they slept, helpless. They might think of her as an assassin sent by an opposing ruler. Akkadians had been hunted for centuries.
His breast plate, made of padded leather, crunched against the stone and the girl's ears perked up. She crept along the side of the rock, her long hair hanging down her back, damp and cold against her skin. She pressed her shoulders into the stone and swung her whole body in one smooth movement to strike at this peeping tom.
Clang!
Nothing! The sword hit stone and she felt the shockwave run through her arm to her shoulder. Of course, she didn't have much time to think about the pain that was growing in her shoulder at the moment as the large hulk of a man, presumably the man who had been watching her, swooped down off the rock, dropping directly on top of her. She flattened to the ground and her sword flew off to the side.
The air rushed from her lungs as she felt his crushing weight atop her and began to thrash.
Medias felt the woman's hips arching up into his, her ribs cracking once under his weight and suddenly realized that she was indeed a much smaller person than he was. Of course, when those nails of her's took a chunk from his face, he forgot the size difference and locked both of her wrists together in one hand. He held it high above her head and looked at the woman.
"That's not very nice," he scolded as if they were friends, dabbing at the bleeding gouge in his cheek.
"And watching someone while they bathe is?" the woman spat back, venomous tone in her voice.
She still writhed beneath his body, pushing against his stomach with her hips. Medias wasn't going to argue with the woman, especially when it felt kind of pleasant to have her body moving beneath his in that way. She noticed his enjoyment against her leg and stopped, contenting herself in spiteful stares at the man.
"Have you calmed down?" he asked, without waiting for a reply. "Good. Now what's your name?" He seemed completely oblivious to the fact she seemed to hate him and didn't want to answer any questions. The girl narrowed her eyes but kept quiet.
He waited for a moment before he asked again. "What is your name, woman?" he growled, trying to intimidate the girl beneath him. She kept her expression spitefully neutral and refused to speak a word.
The sound of heavy foot falls came from the other side of the rock. "Brother?" a voice called for Medias, who responded in kind, his call not a question.
"Over here, brother," he responded, looking down at the girl. In a swift movement he hoisted her up from the ground.
The two men who had just arrived weapons drawn looked at the girl. One laughed and clapped Medias on the shoulder. "You always had a way with the ladies," he grinned and eyed her over in a way which made her want to curl up and die. "So what's her name and what is she doing here?"
"She won't tell," Medias responded, letting go of her hands. It could be assumed that she wouldn't try to attack or escape with the three large men around her. "She was bathing when I came over to the water."
"Do you think she's a spy?" one of the men asked as they eyed her over, the other one taking away her belt and picking her sword up from the sand.
The man who held her sword inspected it. "Her weapons look Akkadian... Perhaps she is from another tribe?" He handed the sword to the man who had asked if she was a spy to let him look it over while he searched her for any hidden weapons.
The girl looked at Medias with a killer glare as she was violated by the hands of his comrades. She felt something harsh and rough against her wrists as they were pulled backwards, tightly bound behind her back by a leather thong.
"We can decide what we'll do with her in the morning, until then one of us will have to keep watch," said the one who had taken her weapons. Medias and the other man nodded.
"I'll take the first watch," Medias offered, hoisting the woman up over his shoulder in a fireman carry. The girl made a sound of shock and her eyes widened in fear. Truly she would have a hard time getting herself away from this mess indeed.
The girl was taken back to the Akkadian's camp, the two men settling back down into their skins and blankets, falling fast back into their slumbers. Medias and the girl sat on his skins in an uncomfortable silence. Medias took out his small knife, cutting away the bonds on her wrists.
"This is all your fault," she chipped, her eyes watching the flames. They reflected on her skin and in her hair, dark shadows and bright orange high lights dancing in her reflectively clear eyes. "I was simply minding my own business and now I'll probably die at the hands of either you or one of your equally meat headed companions..." Her voice trailed off as Medias took some offense to the meat head comment.
"They're fair men," he stood up for his friends, watching the girl with a careful glare. She sat in a slightly hunched posture, noting the fact her arms were drawn around her slender form. He pulled one of the furs from his bedding and put it soft side down, letting the soft fur touch her skin. She watched him as he wrapped her up like some invalid or a child. His hands lingered on her shoulders a little too long and she shifted away. "So, you going to tell me your name?" he asked once more, deciding that physical contact was probably only a good idea if he wanted to fight the woman again.
"What's your's?" she turned with a sharp glare, and what seemed like a smile in the shifting fire light. Medias looked back at her and the smile was gone, the glimmer in her eyes was gone as well. Perhaps he was just imagining that she could be friendly.
"I asked you first," he smirked and tried to infuse her with some friendliness. Medias figured if he could at least joke with her, he might be able to get a smile from the young woman. She was very pretty, and with a smile she would be even better.
"Fine," she sighed in an exasperated manner, rolling her eyes. A smile almost pulled at the corners of her gentle looking mouth. "My name's Akka D'ani," she whispered in a low tone as if she didn't want the sleeping men to hear her, as if they could through their snore filled slumbers.
"Medias," he spoke simply, watching the small woman. "Akka is an interesting name, any story behind it?"
"Probably," she spoke to the flames, having watched him for a moment. She averted her eyes for two reasons, to look at him while she spoke would make the large Akkadian man believe that she respected him enough to talk to, rather than at, him. The second point was the more she looked at him in the flickering firelight the more Akka saw in him that was attractive. He had broad shoulders, a huge body and was easily capable of beating her in a fight or wrestling match. If they were in her tribe, she could take him as her mate; if she so wished.
"Probably? So I take it you don't know the story then?" he asked, noticing how she seemed to refuse to look at him. Medias wondered if this was because she didn't want to look at him or if it was because he wasn't worthy of her eyes in the mind of the young woman. He was aware of a few Matriarch societies of Akkadians where women ruled the men and were the warriors. Perhaps this Akka was one of them.
"Or I don't want to share. Take your pick," she offered to shed no more light on the story after that, drawing her knees up to her chest. Her eyes fluttered closed and time drifted by.
Medias watched her as the skin he had draped over her shoulders fell away unnoticed by the woman who had since fallen asleep. A smile pulled at his lips and with a massive arm he gently laid her down, covering her once again with the skin and taking the spot behind her. Her body blocked the heat from the fire and smelt sweet. Her hair had dried and was as soft as silk beneath Medias' unmarred cheek.
Akka murmured as she rolled over, surprising Medias as she turned to face him, still asleep. Her cheek burrowed against his barrel chest and her hands clasped between their bodies. Medias slipped an arm around her slender waist and pulled the form close. He could get used to this indeed.
