Epilogue
There were four hours between the end of the ceremony and the wedding night. In Celia Bey's estimation, that was four hours too many. But, the tent of the chieftain required preparation and there was dancing to be done. Along with people who suddenly changed their minds, and wished to welcome Celia to their tribe. Ardeth greeted them with a faint smile, though she could see in his eyes that he trusted them about as much as she did. Not at all. However, both held their tongues and smiled at the appropriate times.
About an hour before she was to retire for the night, Ardeth kissed her cheek and whispered, "I must go, my love. Come to me in an hour." Celia nodded and turned her head to kiss him properly. She slipped her hand around the back of his neck, deepening the kiss until he moaned. He broke the kiss, breathing heavily, and much to Celia's delight, his eyes were glazed. He stumbled away, muttering under his breath in Arabic.
"Maybe I should go with him. . .make sure he doesn't break his neck," Rick O'Connell said, pushing himself to his feet. He paused, as if making sure he wasn't stepping on any toes, and when no one stopped him, he followed Ardeth. However, he didn't leave without kissing Evy. Celia never said he was stupid. . .just that he didn't always think. There was a huge difference between the two. A mischievous smile from her best friend told Celia that Evy knew this as well. Maybe that was how she kept her patience with her annoying husband.
Evy remained at Celia's side. Altair retired two hours earlier, taking Miranda with her. The sleepy little girl hadn't wanted to go at first, but when she fell asleep in Ardeth's lap, there was no more argument. Acacia left shortly thereafter with an equally sleepy Damara and Darius. Alex was valiantly fighting his own exhaustion, but a quick glance from Evy had Jonathan scooping the little boy up and carrying him away from the fire. Now, out of the extended family, only Evy, Aleta and Celia remained of the women.
As the hour passed, one by one, the warriors took their leave. It was late, after all, and many were exhausted from practice and the festivities. The last to leave were Anatol, Kaphiri, Hanif, Nicodemus, and Garai. Each of the first four bowed to her, calling her their queen. And the last? He placed a fatherly kiss atop Celia's head and whispered in ancient Egyptian, "Your husband will be ready for you in about fifteen minutes, my queen." He kissed her forehead then, and then left with the other warriors.
Aleta was the last to leave, after embracing and kissing Celia to welcome her to the family. Now it was just Evy and Celia at the slowly dying fire. The moments ticked by, then Evy said softly, "We should go." Celia nodded and carefully rose to her feet. She really didn't want to trip over her cumbersome robes and land face-first in the fire, dying though it was. That would be a very bad start to her new life.
The Med-jai who would guard the dying fire nodded respectfully to them. Celia returned the gesture, hoping that it was received in the manner it was intended. It was. The young man smiled at her, then she and Evy walked away. They were silent as they walked, for there was very little to say. Celia was lost in her own thoughts, as was Evy. Either that, or just respecting Celia's silence. That was the case until a shadow fell across them and Evy exclaimed, "You! What do you want?"
Celia looked up quickly, to see Imhotep looming over them. Or rather, his shadow loomed. He kept a respectful distance from them, no doubt due to the two Med-jai standing guard. Imhotep ignored Evy and addressed Celia in ancient Egyptian, "I wished to thank you for what you did for me. I never realized it until today, but the Elder speaks truly. It was your blood which allowed me to be reborn. I can never repay that."
Celia started to speak, then realized she had no idea what to say. Imhotep wasn't finished, either. He continued, "This is a strange time and a strange place for me, little queen. I have been given a chance to atone, but first, there is much I need to learn. I would have you as my teacher, little queen, if you would be willing." There was a curious plea in his voice, and Celia felt Anck materialize at her side.
"May I have a few days to think it over?" Celia finally asked in the same language. She sensed Anck beaming at her with pride. Imhotep looked startled, but nodded quickly. He fully expected her to turn him down flat. That was Celia's first instinct. She had no reason to trust Imhotep, save one. He carried out his end of the bargain, and helped to save Ardeth. True, it was to break the hom-dai, but he was true to his word.
"As many as you require. I know I ask much of you," Imhotep added, bowing his head. She wasn't sure if it was true humility or what he thought would convince her, but Celia couldn't deny he was trying. After a moment, he continued, "But now, my Lady, Rameses reborn awaits you. He has waited for you for three thousand years. . .a very long time to wait for the person you love most in the world. Go to him."
Celia nodded and Imhotep walked away, with the two Med-jai at his side. Evy murmured, "Well, that was strange." Again, Celia nodded and the two women drew up to the tent. Ardeth's tent, and now hers as well. Evy turned to face her, saying, "There is one last ritual for me to fulfill. I could not dance for you, my dear friend, but this is something I can do." With those words spoken, she drew Celia into her arms, whispering, "May Taueret bless you, my dear friend, my sister."
As she spoke, Celia felt Evy's unborn child kick, and Evy laughed with delight, adding, "You see! Your niece agrees!" Celia laughed with her, and Evy drew back, her arms still looped about Celia's waist. Her eyes grew very serious and she said, "I'll not waste your time, telling you what will happen if you ever hurt Ardeth, because I don't believe you ever will. Just know that I love you, just as I love him, and I always will."
At her side, Celia felt Anck beaming at Evy happily. So strange, how Anck's resentment gradually faded over the weeks. Perhaps Evy and Anck would never be friends, but at the very least, they would be allies, united by their love for Celia and Ardeth. And that was enough. In the back of her soul, the American woman could feel Ardath sighing softly with relief. This was one of her fondest wishes, to see Nefertiri and Anck-su-namun reconciled. Celia answered, speaking for both herself and her previous incarnations, "And I love you." Evy smiled once more, kissed Celia's cheek, then gently pushed her toward the tent. Celia's new life was about to begin.
The bride quietly entered her new home, and gasped. Behind her, she heard Evy fastening the tent flap, to ensure their privacy, but it only barely registered. Her new sisters told her this would happen, but the reality was a far different thing than just the words. The tent was filled with candles, and in the center was Ardeth. Attired only in his trousers, he knelt on. . .something. His black hair flowed lightly to his shoulders.
He smiled almost shyly, bowing his head and saying softly, "Just as I serve my people, so too, do I serve you. Do with me as you will, my mistress. I am yours, and you are mine." The words turned Celia's knees to mush. She barely managed to walk to her new husband before her legs gave out, and she slipped to her knees in front of him. Her first act was to place one finger under his chin and lift it until his eyes met hers.
Words failed her. How could she answer that properly? Acacia and Aleta never told her the appropriate response. So she did the only thing she could do. She cupped her husband's face in her hands, and she kissed him. His beard lightly scratched her fingers, but it only served to send bolts of desire through her body. She broke off, whispering, "You are mine. Give me your trust, my chieftain, for it is my greatest desire to give you pleasure."
Now where did that come from? She had no idea, but it seemed to be fitting. Ardeth actually blushed, but nodded. He added hoarsely, invoking an oath spoke three thousand years earlier, on the first night shared by Rameses and Ardath, "I am your servant. I will worship you and love you for the rest of my life, for the rest of our lives. I will give you children, and tonight, I make you my wife. But for now, I give you my heart and my trust. You are mine, and I am yours, forevermore." He changed it. . .but the sentiments were the same.
And now, Celia was even more determined to give him pleasure, for those words reminded her once more of her dream. Rameses took the lead that night, his experience outweighed Ardath's by far. But things were different this time. She was the more experienced now. Where did she start, where did she start, where did she start? Celia absently dropped a kiss on Ardeth's shoulder, her eyes drinking in this beautiful man. He was perfect. The scars and other markings did nothing to decrease that perfection. Indeed, they made him all the more appealing. The scars gave Celia more places to kiss.
Ardeth kept his arms at his side, and Celia ran her hands over his shoulders, down his arms, then slipped to his waist. He inhaled sharply, his brown eyes widening. But he did not pull away. Intrigued by his reaction, Celia traced the tattoos covering his flat stomach and chest, each rib, then the scars which were visible on his torso. Ardeth's eyes closed, his lips parting, and a soft moan emerged from his throat at her feather-light touch.
She wanted to kiss each scar, each tattoo, wanted to trace his pectoral and abdominal muscles. But there was more to see, and Celia had all night. She kissed his shoulder again, then scooted on her knees around to his back. . .and caught her breath. Ardeth stiffened, his shoulders straightening. On his back were more tattoos. . .and more scars. Far more than she found on his stomach and chest. And these were very particular scars, which made her blood run cold with a combination of fear and rage.
Ardeth was whipped. The scars were fine white lines now, indicating that he had them for many years. She gently brushed her lip against one scar, hearing the breath hiss out of her husband as she did so, and asked, "Who did this to you? When?" She waited for no answers, but began kissing each scar. It was her way of healing, her kiss replacing the sensation of that whip striking his flesh with a new, pleasurable sensation.
"I. . .was seventeen. After Andreas was killed. Lock-nah and his men," Ardeth answered, then sighed, his muscles going lax under her lips and hands. But while he was relaxing. . .sort of, Celia was not. Her eyes blazed, though her husband couldn't see it. Lock-nah again. A fury grew in Celia's soul at the mention of the late renegade. It was a good thing he was dead, because if he wasn't, Celia would have killed him herself.
She said so, brushing the black hair from the nape of Ardeth's neck to press a gentle kiss there, "Good. If he were still alive, I would kill him for hurting you. I love you so much, Ardeth." He had no answer, as her hands and lips were now caressing and kissing his back and shoulders. Her hands and arms were cramping, due to the strange angle, so Celia whispered, "Face down, Ardeth, I'm only so flexible."
This drew a hoarse laugh from him, which ended in a groan as her hands slid to his hips. But Ardeth did as she asked, and Celia eased her body onto his. Once she was more or less comfortable, she brushed away his hair and began exploring in earnest. She started at the nape of his neck, kissing her way down his spine. He trembled under her, his breathing irregular and whispering things in Arabic she didn't understand.
Not that she asked him. Instead, she pressed a tender kiss to the base of his spine, then began kissing the scars once more. As Celia told Ardeth when they first met, she knew soldiers. . .warriors. . .back in the States. Many of them were her own age, who fought in the Great War when they were just boys. Celia worked in city hospitals as a volunteer during the Great War, often accompanying her grandmother, and against the wishes of her mother. Those young soldiers explained the difference between a knife wound and a bullet wound, assuming one was fortunate enough to survive either.
And as the wife of the Med-jai chieftain, she would learn even more. Just from her husband's body, she would learn these things. There were scars from knife wounds, slash scars, in addition to the whipping scars and the occasional bullet scar. And each was kissed, each was caressed. Celia made each her own, for she knew that sometimes scars did hurt. Something else those young soldiers told the young girl who came into the hospital to try to make their lives brighter. She wanted Ardeth to remember only pleasure, no pain, and she covered every inch of his flesh, from the waist of his trousers to the nape of his neck, outlining his ribs and his shoulder blades with kisses.
By the time she had him turn back over, Ardeth was moaning softly no matter where she touched him. But Celia was just getting started. As she once more settled her body atop his, Ardeth's hands came up to cradle her waist, but it wasn't yet time. Celia intercepted his hands and pressed them to the blanket which protected them from the sand under the tent, pressing a light kiss under his navel at the same time. Ardeth actually whimpered, writhing under her touch. Celia allowed herself a smile, then began disrobing. She was actually very glad that only Ardeth's trousers remained. Things might have gotten. . .complicated.
Once her robes were gone, Celia leaned forward, until skin met skin. It was killing Ardeth, she knew, to be so passive. He was anything but passive, after all. But he gave his trust to her, and he was trying desperately to maintain his word. Celia loved him for that, and for his self-control. This time, she tried a two-pronged attack, kissing his mouth as her hand began to caress his torso. She was rewarded with a low groan, and Celia smiled against his mouth. Time to experiment. As her fingers lightly, lazily, caressed his chest, ribs, then finally his belly, Celia covered his face with kisses. . .his closed eyes, the tattoos on his cheeks, his forehead, even the tip of his nose.
Ardeth was caught somewhere between panting and groaning, his fingers twisted in the tassels of the blanket (tassels?), and Celia stepped up the attack. Before too much longer, Ardeth wouldn't be able to remember his promise to just trust her. She knew that. He could not only take, by nature, Ardeth also had to give. But before he did any giving, she had more work to do. She whispered, "Just a little longer, love."
Then she returned to work, trailing kisses along his jaw, down the side of his neck, over to the hollow of his throat, then made her way down his chest. Her lips and tongue traced the muscles of his chest, brushing the already-hardened nipples, before caressing the tattoos. Ardeth moaned, his flesh warming under her touch. For even as her mouth did its magic, Celia's hands were busy. She grasped Ardeth's wrists, lifting them high over his head, stretching the skin and making it that much more sensitive.
She should have thought to use a scarf. . .ah! There was the sash of her robes! She carefully bound Ardeth's wrists together, making sure that it wasn't so tight that it would hurt him, then returned her attention to thoroughly seducing him. Ardeth whispered in Arabic and English, Celia only able to make out, "Please. . ." before he lapsed back into Arabic once more. And of course, her Arabic was limited at the moment to 'yes,' 'no,' and 'thank you.'
Celia stroked the insides of his wrists, drawing soft sighs of pleasure, then moved back down once more. It took her a moment to remember where she left off, then grinned. Oh yes. Celia slipped her hands to Ardeth's waist, easing his trousers down over his hips, even as she lowered her head to bless each rib with kisses.
At the same time, Ardeth's control finally snapped, and as Celia covered his midsection with kisses, Ardeth's fingers began to comb through her hair, massaging her scalp. It happened to be the only part of her which he could reach at the moment, and it had the effect of heightening Celia's own rhythm. To say nothing of making her own body temperature rise a few degrees. Almost home. It was at that point that she found out she hadn't secured his wrists well enough, because it was then his touch on her head actually registered with her.
As she lifted her head to look at him, his eyes seemed to be much closer than they should have been. He gave her a feral grin, then with a single twist of his hips, he was lying on top of her, pinning her own wrists to the ground. Well, they did say turnabout was fair play. They stared at each other for a long time, then Celia smiled crookedly at her husband, whispering, "Welcome home, my love." Three thousand years removed from that first night, he was finally home. . .and so was she. Body, heart, and spirit.
Names no longer mattered in that moment. Was she Celia or Ardath, was he Ardeth or Rameses? It no longer mattered. Names were unimportant. Only love mattered. With a groan, he buried his face in her hair, but only for a moment. After a moment, he pulled back and whispered, "We are wearing too many clothes, my queen." Celia smiled as Ardeth pulled back to kick his trousers off, allowing her leeway to remove her own trousers, then her underthings.
Once his legs were free, Ardeth began removing his loincloth, allowing Celia to view the last part of her husband which remained hidden, but Ardeth drew her eyes back to his face. He was uncomfortable, she realized, and he whispered, "I must. . .I wish to give. . .what do you want of me, my queen?" His hand was hot on her thigh, and now it was becoming a struggle for Celia to think clearly, much less answer his question.
But she answered, "I want for us to become one. Do you understand?" Ardeth nodded, then drew her into his arms. Her pleasuring could wait. Celia was determined to start her new life off right, by taking care of her husband. He gave and gave and gave. It was time for someone else to give. As she drew Ardeth into her body, Celia bit her lip. She would not cry out. He was not hurting her. She needed him as much as he needed her. As their bodies joined, Celia gave a low moan of her own. They were both truly home, and this was only the beginning.
Here ends 'A Med-jai Wedding.' Coming soon, 'What Might Have Been.'
Author's Notes and Thanks: I know, this was a lot shorter than 'The Forever Friends,' but this was a transition piece. Also, 'The Forever Friends' was a story which introduced several new characters, not the least of which was Ardeth's mother and siblings, and Celia, and Lady Ardath, whose murder started everything in the first place. Most of my stories, including the next one, run about ten chapters in all.
The next story, 'What Might Have Been,' goes into more detail about Garai's visions. Remember back in 'The Forever Friends,' when Evy was told about what would have happened if Andreas was in charge, instead of Ardeth? She gets the full picture, as do Rick and Jonathan. There are a few other what might have beens which come up (what might have happened if Horus wasn't killed as he flew away from Ahm Shere, and a few tantalizing hints about what might have happened if Imhotep rose twenty years earlier, while our heroes were very, very young).
This story also sees the rise of some serious tension between Rick and Celia. It's been building through the last two stories, but it comes to a head in 'What Might Have Been.' They don't return to their earlier friendship until the fifth story, 'A Lesser Evil.' And that's all I'll say about that, because anything more would ruin the fun.
Thanks, as always, to everyone who read, special thanks to everyone who reviewed, whether once or for each chapter.
There were four hours between the end of the ceremony and the wedding night. In Celia Bey's estimation, that was four hours too many. But, the tent of the chieftain required preparation and there was dancing to be done. Along with people who suddenly changed their minds, and wished to welcome Celia to their tribe. Ardeth greeted them with a faint smile, though she could see in his eyes that he trusted them about as much as she did. Not at all. However, both held their tongues and smiled at the appropriate times.
About an hour before she was to retire for the night, Ardeth kissed her cheek and whispered, "I must go, my love. Come to me in an hour." Celia nodded and turned her head to kiss him properly. She slipped her hand around the back of his neck, deepening the kiss until he moaned. He broke the kiss, breathing heavily, and much to Celia's delight, his eyes were glazed. He stumbled away, muttering under his breath in Arabic.
"Maybe I should go with him. . .make sure he doesn't break his neck," Rick O'Connell said, pushing himself to his feet. He paused, as if making sure he wasn't stepping on any toes, and when no one stopped him, he followed Ardeth. However, he didn't leave without kissing Evy. Celia never said he was stupid. . .just that he didn't always think. There was a huge difference between the two. A mischievous smile from her best friend told Celia that Evy knew this as well. Maybe that was how she kept her patience with her annoying husband.
Evy remained at Celia's side. Altair retired two hours earlier, taking Miranda with her. The sleepy little girl hadn't wanted to go at first, but when she fell asleep in Ardeth's lap, there was no more argument. Acacia left shortly thereafter with an equally sleepy Damara and Darius. Alex was valiantly fighting his own exhaustion, but a quick glance from Evy had Jonathan scooping the little boy up and carrying him away from the fire. Now, out of the extended family, only Evy, Aleta and Celia remained of the women.
As the hour passed, one by one, the warriors took their leave. It was late, after all, and many were exhausted from practice and the festivities. The last to leave were Anatol, Kaphiri, Hanif, Nicodemus, and Garai. Each of the first four bowed to her, calling her their queen. And the last? He placed a fatherly kiss atop Celia's head and whispered in ancient Egyptian, "Your husband will be ready for you in about fifteen minutes, my queen." He kissed her forehead then, and then left with the other warriors.
Aleta was the last to leave, after embracing and kissing Celia to welcome her to the family. Now it was just Evy and Celia at the slowly dying fire. The moments ticked by, then Evy said softly, "We should go." Celia nodded and carefully rose to her feet. She really didn't want to trip over her cumbersome robes and land face-first in the fire, dying though it was. That would be a very bad start to her new life.
The Med-jai who would guard the dying fire nodded respectfully to them. Celia returned the gesture, hoping that it was received in the manner it was intended. It was. The young man smiled at her, then she and Evy walked away. They were silent as they walked, for there was very little to say. Celia was lost in her own thoughts, as was Evy. Either that, or just respecting Celia's silence. That was the case until a shadow fell across them and Evy exclaimed, "You! What do you want?"
Celia looked up quickly, to see Imhotep looming over them. Or rather, his shadow loomed. He kept a respectful distance from them, no doubt due to the two Med-jai standing guard. Imhotep ignored Evy and addressed Celia in ancient Egyptian, "I wished to thank you for what you did for me. I never realized it until today, but the Elder speaks truly. It was your blood which allowed me to be reborn. I can never repay that."
Celia started to speak, then realized she had no idea what to say. Imhotep wasn't finished, either. He continued, "This is a strange time and a strange place for me, little queen. I have been given a chance to atone, but first, there is much I need to learn. I would have you as my teacher, little queen, if you would be willing." There was a curious plea in his voice, and Celia felt Anck materialize at her side.
"May I have a few days to think it over?" Celia finally asked in the same language. She sensed Anck beaming at her with pride. Imhotep looked startled, but nodded quickly. He fully expected her to turn him down flat. That was Celia's first instinct. She had no reason to trust Imhotep, save one. He carried out his end of the bargain, and helped to save Ardeth. True, it was to break the hom-dai, but he was true to his word.
"As many as you require. I know I ask much of you," Imhotep added, bowing his head. She wasn't sure if it was true humility or what he thought would convince her, but Celia couldn't deny he was trying. After a moment, he continued, "But now, my Lady, Rameses reborn awaits you. He has waited for you for three thousand years. . .a very long time to wait for the person you love most in the world. Go to him."
Celia nodded and Imhotep walked away, with the two Med-jai at his side. Evy murmured, "Well, that was strange." Again, Celia nodded and the two women drew up to the tent. Ardeth's tent, and now hers as well. Evy turned to face her, saying, "There is one last ritual for me to fulfill. I could not dance for you, my dear friend, but this is something I can do." With those words spoken, she drew Celia into her arms, whispering, "May Taueret bless you, my dear friend, my sister."
As she spoke, Celia felt Evy's unborn child kick, and Evy laughed with delight, adding, "You see! Your niece agrees!" Celia laughed with her, and Evy drew back, her arms still looped about Celia's waist. Her eyes grew very serious and she said, "I'll not waste your time, telling you what will happen if you ever hurt Ardeth, because I don't believe you ever will. Just know that I love you, just as I love him, and I always will."
At her side, Celia felt Anck beaming at Evy happily. So strange, how Anck's resentment gradually faded over the weeks. Perhaps Evy and Anck would never be friends, but at the very least, they would be allies, united by their love for Celia and Ardeth. And that was enough. In the back of her soul, the American woman could feel Ardath sighing softly with relief. This was one of her fondest wishes, to see Nefertiri and Anck-su-namun reconciled. Celia answered, speaking for both herself and her previous incarnations, "And I love you." Evy smiled once more, kissed Celia's cheek, then gently pushed her toward the tent. Celia's new life was about to begin.
The bride quietly entered her new home, and gasped. Behind her, she heard Evy fastening the tent flap, to ensure their privacy, but it only barely registered. Her new sisters told her this would happen, but the reality was a far different thing than just the words. The tent was filled with candles, and in the center was Ardeth. Attired only in his trousers, he knelt on. . .something. His black hair flowed lightly to his shoulders.
He smiled almost shyly, bowing his head and saying softly, "Just as I serve my people, so too, do I serve you. Do with me as you will, my mistress. I am yours, and you are mine." The words turned Celia's knees to mush. She barely managed to walk to her new husband before her legs gave out, and she slipped to her knees in front of him. Her first act was to place one finger under his chin and lift it until his eyes met hers.
Words failed her. How could she answer that properly? Acacia and Aleta never told her the appropriate response. So she did the only thing she could do. She cupped her husband's face in her hands, and she kissed him. His beard lightly scratched her fingers, but it only served to send bolts of desire through her body. She broke off, whispering, "You are mine. Give me your trust, my chieftain, for it is my greatest desire to give you pleasure."
Now where did that come from? She had no idea, but it seemed to be fitting. Ardeth actually blushed, but nodded. He added hoarsely, invoking an oath spoke three thousand years earlier, on the first night shared by Rameses and Ardath, "I am your servant. I will worship you and love you for the rest of my life, for the rest of our lives. I will give you children, and tonight, I make you my wife. But for now, I give you my heart and my trust. You are mine, and I am yours, forevermore." He changed it. . .but the sentiments were the same.
And now, Celia was even more determined to give him pleasure, for those words reminded her once more of her dream. Rameses took the lead that night, his experience outweighed Ardath's by far. But things were different this time. She was the more experienced now. Where did she start, where did she start, where did she start? Celia absently dropped a kiss on Ardeth's shoulder, her eyes drinking in this beautiful man. He was perfect. The scars and other markings did nothing to decrease that perfection. Indeed, they made him all the more appealing. The scars gave Celia more places to kiss.
Ardeth kept his arms at his side, and Celia ran her hands over his shoulders, down his arms, then slipped to his waist. He inhaled sharply, his brown eyes widening. But he did not pull away. Intrigued by his reaction, Celia traced the tattoos covering his flat stomach and chest, each rib, then the scars which were visible on his torso. Ardeth's eyes closed, his lips parting, and a soft moan emerged from his throat at her feather-light touch.
She wanted to kiss each scar, each tattoo, wanted to trace his pectoral and abdominal muscles. But there was more to see, and Celia had all night. She kissed his shoulder again, then scooted on her knees around to his back. . .and caught her breath. Ardeth stiffened, his shoulders straightening. On his back were more tattoos. . .and more scars. Far more than she found on his stomach and chest. And these were very particular scars, which made her blood run cold with a combination of fear and rage.
Ardeth was whipped. The scars were fine white lines now, indicating that he had them for many years. She gently brushed her lip against one scar, hearing the breath hiss out of her husband as she did so, and asked, "Who did this to you? When?" She waited for no answers, but began kissing each scar. It was her way of healing, her kiss replacing the sensation of that whip striking his flesh with a new, pleasurable sensation.
"I. . .was seventeen. After Andreas was killed. Lock-nah and his men," Ardeth answered, then sighed, his muscles going lax under her lips and hands. But while he was relaxing. . .sort of, Celia was not. Her eyes blazed, though her husband couldn't see it. Lock-nah again. A fury grew in Celia's soul at the mention of the late renegade. It was a good thing he was dead, because if he wasn't, Celia would have killed him herself.
She said so, brushing the black hair from the nape of Ardeth's neck to press a gentle kiss there, "Good. If he were still alive, I would kill him for hurting you. I love you so much, Ardeth." He had no answer, as her hands and lips were now caressing and kissing his back and shoulders. Her hands and arms were cramping, due to the strange angle, so Celia whispered, "Face down, Ardeth, I'm only so flexible."
This drew a hoarse laugh from him, which ended in a groan as her hands slid to his hips. But Ardeth did as she asked, and Celia eased her body onto his. Once she was more or less comfortable, she brushed away his hair and began exploring in earnest. She started at the nape of his neck, kissing her way down his spine. He trembled under her, his breathing irregular and whispering things in Arabic she didn't understand.
Not that she asked him. Instead, she pressed a tender kiss to the base of his spine, then began kissing the scars once more. As Celia told Ardeth when they first met, she knew soldiers. . .warriors. . .back in the States. Many of them were her own age, who fought in the Great War when they were just boys. Celia worked in city hospitals as a volunteer during the Great War, often accompanying her grandmother, and against the wishes of her mother. Those young soldiers explained the difference between a knife wound and a bullet wound, assuming one was fortunate enough to survive either.
And as the wife of the Med-jai chieftain, she would learn even more. Just from her husband's body, she would learn these things. There were scars from knife wounds, slash scars, in addition to the whipping scars and the occasional bullet scar. And each was kissed, each was caressed. Celia made each her own, for she knew that sometimes scars did hurt. Something else those young soldiers told the young girl who came into the hospital to try to make their lives brighter. She wanted Ardeth to remember only pleasure, no pain, and she covered every inch of his flesh, from the waist of his trousers to the nape of his neck, outlining his ribs and his shoulder blades with kisses.
By the time she had him turn back over, Ardeth was moaning softly no matter where she touched him. But Celia was just getting started. As she once more settled her body atop his, Ardeth's hands came up to cradle her waist, but it wasn't yet time. Celia intercepted his hands and pressed them to the blanket which protected them from the sand under the tent, pressing a light kiss under his navel at the same time. Ardeth actually whimpered, writhing under her touch. Celia allowed herself a smile, then began disrobing. She was actually very glad that only Ardeth's trousers remained. Things might have gotten. . .complicated.
Once her robes were gone, Celia leaned forward, until skin met skin. It was killing Ardeth, she knew, to be so passive. He was anything but passive, after all. But he gave his trust to her, and he was trying desperately to maintain his word. Celia loved him for that, and for his self-control. This time, she tried a two-pronged attack, kissing his mouth as her hand began to caress his torso. She was rewarded with a low groan, and Celia smiled against his mouth. Time to experiment. As her fingers lightly, lazily, caressed his chest, ribs, then finally his belly, Celia covered his face with kisses. . .his closed eyes, the tattoos on his cheeks, his forehead, even the tip of his nose.
Ardeth was caught somewhere between panting and groaning, his fingers twisted in the tassels of the blanket (tassels?), and Celia stepped up the attack. Before too much longer, Ardeth wouldn't be able to remember his promise to just trust her. She knew that. He could not only take, by nature, Ardeth also had to give. But before he did any giving, she had more work to do. She whispered, "Just a little longer, love."
Then she returned to work, trailing kisses along his jaw, down the side of his neck, over to the hollow of his throat, then made her way down his chest. Her lips and tongue traced the muscles of his chest, brushing the already-hardened nipples, before caressing the tattoos. Ardeth moaned, his flesh warming under her touch. For even as her mouth did its magic, Celia's hands were busy. She grasped Ardeth's wrists, lifting them high over his head, stretching the skin and making it that much more sensitive.
She should have thought to use a scarf. . .ah! There was the sash of her robes! She carefully bound Ardeth's wrists together, making sure that it wasn't so tight that it would hurt him, then returned her attention to thoroughly seducing him. Ardeth whispered in Arabic and English, Celia only able to make out, "Please. . ." before he lapsed back into Arabic once more. And of course, her Arabic was limited at the moment to 'yes,' 'no,' and 'thank you.'
Celia stroked the insides of his wrists, drawing soft sighs of pleasure, then moved back down once more. It took her a moment to remember where she left off, then grinned. Oh yes. Celia slipped her hands to Ardeth's waist, easing his trousers down over his hips, even as she lowered her head to bless each rib with kisses.
At the same time, Ardeth's control finally snapped, and as Celia covered his midsection with kisses, Ardeth's fingers began to comb through her hair, massaging her scalp. It happened to be the only part of her which he could reach at the moment, and it had the effect of heightening Celia's own rhythm. To say nothing of making her own body temperature rise a few degrees. Almost home. It was at that point that she found out she hadn't secured his wrists well enough, because it was then his touch on her head actually registered with her.
As she lifted her head to look at him, his eyes seemed to be much closer than they should have been. He gave her a feral grin, then with a single twist of his hips, he was lying on top of her, pinning her own wrists to the ground. Well, they did say turnabout was fair play. They stared at each other for a long time, then Celia smiled crookedly at her husband, whispering, "Welcome home, my love." Three thousand years removed from that first night, he was finally home. . .and so was she. Body, heart, and spirit.
Names no longer mattered in that moment. Was she Celia or Ardath, was he Ardeth or Rameses? It no longer mattered. Names were unimportant. Only love mattered. With a groan, he buried his face in her hair, but only for a moment. After a moment, he pulled back and whispered, "We are wearing too many clothes, my queen." Celia smiled as Ardeth pulled back to kick his trousers off, allowing her leeway to remove her own trousers, then her underthings.
Once his legs were free, Ardeth began removing his loincloth, allowing Celia to view the last part of her husband which remained hidden, but Ardeth drew her eyes back to his face. He was uncomfortable, she realized, and he whispered, "I must. . .I wish to give. . .what do you want of me, my queen?" His hand was hot on her thigh, and now it was becoming a struggle for Celia to think clearly, much less answer his question.
But she answered, "I want for us to become one. Do you understand?" Ardeth nodded, then drew her into his arms. Her pleasuring could wait. Celia was determined to start her new life off right, by taking care of her husband. He gave and gave and gave. It was time for someone else to give. As she drew Ardeth into her body, Celia bit her lip. She would not cry out. He was not hurting her. She needed him as much as he needed her. As their bodies joined, Celia gave a low moan of her own. They were both truly home, and this was only the beginning.
Here ends 'A Med-jai Wedding.' Coming soon, 'What Might Have Been.'
Author's Notes and Thanks: I know, this was a lot shorter than 'The Forever Friends,' but this was a transition piece. Also, 'The Forever Friends' was a story which introduced several new characters, not the least of which was Ardeth's mother and siblings, and Celia, and Lady Ardath, whose murder started everything in the first place. Most of my stories, including the next one, run about ten chapters in all.
The next story, 'What Might Have Been,' goes into more detail about Garai's visions. Remember back in 'The Forever Friends,' when Evy was told about what would have happened if Andreas was in charge, instead of Ardeth? She gets the full picture, as do Rick and Jonathan. There are a few other what might have beens which come up (what might have happened if Horus wasn't killed as he flew away from Ahm Shere, and a few tantalizing hints about what might have happened if Imhotep rose twenty years earlier, while our heroes were very, very young).
This story also sees the rise of some serious tension between Rick and Celia. It's been building through the last two stories, but it comes to a head in 'What Might Have Been.' They don't return to their earlier friendship until the fifth story, 'A Lesser Evil.' And that's all I'll say about that, because anything more would ruin the fun.
Thanks, as always, to everyone who read, special thanks to everyone who reviewed, whether once or for each chapter.