Eyes of Gold

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story from The Mummy (1999) except for my OCs.

Terms to Know:

Hedetet: Goddess of fertility, motherhood, infants, and scorpions. She is depicted with the head of a Scorpion, holding a nursing baby.

My beloved stirs my heart with his voice,
He causes illness to seize me . . .
My mother is right in commanding me:
"Avoid seeing him."
But, my heart is smitten by his memory,
My love for him has seized me.
Look, he is a fool

But I am just like him.
He does not know my desire to embrace him,
He does (not) send word to my mother.
Oh, my beloved!
I am destined for you,
By the Golden (Goddess) of Women.
-Papyrus Chester Beatty I, Chester Beatty Library.

~The Inferno of Eternal Damnation

Imhotep writhed in pain. The memories were increasing in their intensity now. In his torment, he recalled their first meeting, so unextraordinary but so powerful in its simplicity. He recalled how her soft hair had flowed down her shoulders, casting shadows upon her face, making it appear soft and welcoming. Her delicate hands folded in prayer on Kesi's chest. Her selfless and caring eyes had bored into him, unfreezing the layers he had placed around his heart. Had he known all she would mean to him, he would not have given his heart so freely. The pain he felt as he rotted in his eternal hell could not be overshadowed by the powerfulness of her love. It still flowed through his veins.

Had he known that his actions would have landed him here, he would have run away with her and left his life behind as the powerful High Priest of Osiris and Vizier to the Pharaoh. What good did praying and dedicating his life to the Gods do anyways? Here he decayed in their prison of doom, awaiting nothing more than eons of torment. All he had done to protect those of the land of Egypt meant nothing to them. The rituals, the spells, and the countless lives he had saved were all twisted into a spiderweb of deception and lies, and it all came back to one man.

Seti, Imhotep managed to hiss through his teeth. The imps of hell backed away again, sensing the change in him. The power within Imhotep was growing, increasing in its strength, pulsing at the seams. The extreme hatred poured off of him in waves, commanding the army of demons, if only for a second. But Imhotep paid no mind as he thought of the Pharaoh. His most trusted friend and ally, the boy king, who he had fought beside in battle. The powerful man who had allowed Imhotep to build monuments to his royal name and to protect and fortify the city with his ethereal powers. The man who had dined with him in the great hall and Imhotep had shared countless hours of laughter with. The man who had invited Imhotep into his home and included him as one of the royal family. None of it meant anything. For Seti was the one that Imhotep had his heart set on one he truly wanted to pay for his transgressions.

Yet, here Imhotep was, the Hom-Dai burning through his veins, unable to escape and cause the mass destruction it so desperately sought. Seti was buried honorably, safe in a tomb, and free to walk through the Field of Reeds in the blessed afterlife. The pain and the anger were all he could feel now. Howling, Imhotep succumbed once again as the memories kept coming.

~Thebes, 1295

Unamused, Imhotep awaited the Princess's arrival. Tua-re had been pestering him for years to tutor her daughter in the art of weaponry. Imhotep knew there were others much more experienced than he for the job. Still, the Queen had insisted upon his involvement. She wanted to "keep in it the family," so to speak. Snorting, Imhotep laughed internally at that. If only the Pharaoh and the Queen knew he was a foundling, they would not have the same view.

"I'm sorry I'm late!" The gangly girl running down the stairs shouted. With all arms and elbows, she was the picture of awkwardness. Stumbling on the last step, she recovered gracefully and shot Imhotep a toothy smile.

Rolling his eyes and smirking, he said. "Always fashionably late as always, Nefertiri."

The heavily perfumed wig the Princess wore was slipping around on her head, and she attempted to straighten it to no avail.

Chuckling, Imhotep walked over to her and helped her center the heavy hairpiece. "You know, you do not need to wear this when we are practicing." He said, raising an eyebrow.

Whining, she fought to keep the wig from slipping again and glared at him. "Yes, I do! You're a man. You wouldn't understand." Turning away and finally securing it, she nodded, satisfied, and turned to him, her toothy grin lighting up her face again. "Let's spar!"

Rolling his eyes and laughing, he nodded and retrieved the weapons they would use that day. Handing Nefertiri a small bronze axe and a shield, he retrieved his own and got into position.

"Come at me!" He said.

Nefertiri laughed and replied, "Oh, I'll get you alright!" She raised the axe above her head and swung at him, the blade catching in his shield. She fell to the ground and landed with an unceremonious thud.

Sitting there forlornly, she looked at the ground, refusing to look at Imhotep, a strong pout on her royal face.

Laughing slightly, Imhotep pulled her axe from his shield and offered his hand to her. Turning away from him, she crossed her arms over her chest and pouted harder. "I don't know why father insists on me learning this! I don't want to!" Nefertiri said as she turned to him, her eyes pleading. "Please tell father I want out!" She whined the last word, her eyes big.

Kneeling down next to Nefertiri, Imhotep sighed. "It is not quite so simple, little one."

Nefertiri turned away further, the scowl on her face growing deeper. "Well, you two are so chummy I'm sure you can figure something out. And don't call me little one!" She crossed her arms harder.

Sitting down fully on the warm sand, Imhotep brought his hands together and thought for a moment before responding. "There is a special reason that your father wants you to learn weaponry, Nefertiri," he said.

She turned to him, her eyes questioning, and raised her eyebrows. "Such as?"

Sighing, Imhotep looked to the heavens and replied, "I cannot tell you the full truth Nefertiri, but you will understand when you are older. Just know, everything your father does has a reason."

Huffing, she turned away and clambered to her feet. "Well, if my father has some stupid reason for this, it must be special then. I am the only Princess we've got" Nefertiri put her hands on her hips sassily. "Besides, the prettiest girl in the kingdom has to be able to protect it somehow."

Getting to his own feet, Imhotep chuckled, "Yes, I'm sure that's the reason, Your Highness." Imhotep said, bowing at the last word.

She lightly hit his arm and laughed, "Okay, let's try again!" She said, raising the axe over her head and coming at him rapidly.

Picking up his shield, he stopped her quickly. "Let's try something else, shall we?" Turning around, he grabbed a bow and a few arrows, handing them to her.

Dropping the axe and shield to the floor and stepping over them, Nefertiri looked at the bow and arrows with wonderment, turning them over in her hands. "Doesn't my father use these?" She asked, looking up at him, her eyes twinkling.

"Yes, indeed he does," Imhotep replied. "In fact, we used them in battle together."

"Wow! Really! You must tell me of this!" Nefertiri said, bouncing up and down, her beaded braids jingling.

"Another time, little one," Imhotep said. "Now, put the arrows down over there." Imhotep pointed to a small rock nearby. "And we will practice using the bow."

Glaring at him, she replied. "Don't call me that! And must I? Do I not get to use the arrows yet?"

Grimacing slightly and snickering, Imhotep pointed once more at the small rock. "Let's practice getting your arms in the right position before we try the dangerous weapons."

"Fine," Nefertiri said, annoyed, and stood in front of him, holding the bow. "Will you show me how to hold it?" She asked, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

Pulling a face, Imhotep turned her around and wrapped his arms around her, putting the bow in her left hand. "You want to use the opposite of your dominant hand." He said. "Make sure you're using your dominant hand to pull back."

Nefertiri nuzzled in closer to him, not paying any attention. Suddenly, she turned around and kissed him, catching him by surprise.

"Princess!" Imhotep said, stepping away from her at once, the bow falling to the sand. His hands were held up in defense.

She smiled at him and opened her arms, running back to him. "Oh, Imhotep, you must know how you make me feel!" Her wig was sliding around once more, coming loose from the heat of the moment.

Stepping back further, Imhotep felt his back hit the far wall of the sparring ring. "Your Highness, this is not right. You are the Pharaoh's daughter."

She stopped, and her smile faltered. "What's that have to do with it?" She pouted. "Do you not find me attractive?" Nefertiri asked, her sheer golden threaded dress falling off one shoulder. She pulled the strap back up and stared at him sadly. "I thought you felt the same!" She pounded her foot down on the hot sand.

Opening his mouth and thinking better of it, Imhotep simply replied, "It is not what your father would want."

"My father? My father? Why would I care what he thinks of you and me? I, for one, think he would approve." She said defiantly, hands on her thin hips.

Backing away further, his back digging into the stone wall, Imhotep realized he would have to end it harshly. "Nefertiri, you are far too young for me…and that is the truth of it." He said, his eyes watching her wearily.

Now her mouth opened and closed rapidly, and he could see the steam rising off her before she spun around and ran up the stairs, a gangly teenage mess. Her loud sobs reverberated off the stone walls, and Imhotep sighed, sinking to the floor, his head in his hands. Why me? He thought.

He sat there for a few moments before collecting himself and standing. Brushing off his loincloth and retrieving the weapons strewn about the room, he put them back in the cabinet. Light footsteps reached his ears, and Imhotep looked up, half fearful it was the tearful Princess again. But alas, it was a messenger from the Pharaoh.

Oh no, what has she told him? He thought.

The messenger reached the bottom of the steps and cleared his throat, impatient. "Pharaoh Seti would like to see you now, my Lord." The man bowed as he finished.

"Whatever for?" Imhotep asked.

Rolling his heavy kohl-lined eyes, the messenger responded. "I don't know what for. I was just sent to retrieve you." With that, the slight man turned on his prissy heel and trodded up the steps, leaving Imhotep to follow.

Biting his lip nervously, Imhotep entered Seti's chambers. The Pharaoh sat on the far end of the room, his back to Imhotep. His profile looked soft, weak, and Imhotep almost laughed. Seti was definitely not an imposing figure by any means. I hope this isn't about Nefertiri, he thought.

Shaking his head and clearing his throat, Imhotep bowed and said. "Seti, you wished to see me?"

Turning around, Seti appeared to be in distress. "Yes, Imhotep, you are the man I wanted to see." He put his head in his hands, dragging his palms across his face, and looked up at Imhotep, his eyes hard. "I have been informed that the concubine has given birth to another daughter."

Relief coursed through him, however brief. Clearing his throat again, Imhotep shifted from foot to foot, knowing what Seti was heading toward. "Yes, that is correct." Seti opened his mouth to speak, but Imhotep held up his hand to stop him. "But it is entirely possible that the child may not survive."

Seti shook his head, glaring down at the floor, unresponsive for some time before finally he sprung up and began to pace. "It does not matter if the child lives or dies to me, Imhotep. But if it shall live, it will stay here. You know what comes next." He stopped pacing and looked harshly at Imhotep. "Get rid of her," Seti said, venom leaking from each word. "Now!" He all but yelled.

Imhotep swallowed and felt a pang in his heart. The poor girl lay in the infirmary, weak and without a home to return to, but he knew better than to argue with Seti.

His eyes growing in hardness, Seti awaited his answer.

"As you wish," Imhotep said. Bowing, he turned and left Seti's chambers. Bile in his throat, he walked toward the infirmary, his heart breaking into pieces.

~Late Fall, 1295

Ancksunmun was anxious. Kesi had given birth many moons ago, but each time she inquired after her at the infirmary, she was sent away and told not to bother her. It was beginning to weigh on her mind. What was it that Kesi had wanted to say to her? A feeling in her gut told her it had been important. All I can do is wait until I see her with Pharaoh Seti, she thought.

Once again, wandering the river banks, the sun rising over the horizon, she ignored the hazy pink sky. Pharaoh Seti, Ancksunamun thought. Something about him is despicable. Thinking of how he pillaged the kingdom for food and took from her family was enough to enrage her, but now, this had left a sour feeling in her gut. She remembered the purple bruises she had seen under Kesi's eyes. She swallowed hard, wrapping her arms around herself, trying to abate the morning chill. But it was no use. The cold was far more potent than that. It radiated throughout her bones, chilling her to the core.

Remembering the lecherous way he had looked at her when she had arrived perpetuated the sourness of Ancksunamuns stomach. It was beyond hatred at this point. It was abhorrence. Something is deeply wrong with him, she thought. The way he sees women as property, and the way he steals from his own people, he has to be evil.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of pebbles tumbling down the steps leading to the river sanctuary. Ancksunamuns head shot up, and she looked around. Not seeing anything, she continued her slow walk along the banks of the river. An Ibis sat on the opposite bank, patiently waiting for its breakfast. Splashes of water could be heard further away as Hippos dipped in and out of the mud, playing in the early morning light.

Smiling wistfully, she remembered how lazily the river flowed by her home in Merimde. How, in the early morning, the village cats could be seen fishing and then trotting back home, prize in mouth. She thought of her own cat, Hedetet, whom her father had disapproved of initially. That was until Hedetet had saved the family from scorpions that had invaded their home, proving herself worthy. After that, her father declared Hedetet protector of the house and believed her to be sent by the Goddess Hedetet herself.

Pebbles dropped nearby once more, and Ancksunamun stopped walking. An odd feeling came over her, and she felt as if she was floating, her head dizzy, as she turned to see where the commotion had come from. Freezing immediately, she was transported into her dreams, seeing clearly the dark penetrative eyes which seemed to see into the very essence of her soul. But these were not in the land of dreams; these were very real. Her throat went dry, and she could not find the words to speak. Imhotep! Her mind screamed. It's him! Her heart pounding away in her chest, she began to feel increasingly faint.

They stared at one another for quite some time, not moving, not speaking. He seemed to be restraining himself, opening his mouth a few times and then closing it. He was obviously just as dumbstruck as she found herself. The silence dragged on, her head becoming hazier and hazier as she looked at him now, truly looking at him as a man, dragging her eyes across his body.

He stood at the bottom of the steps leading to the river, the garden's walls behind him, as the sun's rays began to rise over the horizon, bathing his skin in a golden glow. Her eyes grew more expansive, and she took all of him in as he stared back at her, unmoving, watching her as she watched him. He was impressively tall, with lean and fit muscles, which made him appear imposing and powerful. She swallowed harshly, her eyes roving his body.

The long black robe he wore trailed on the ground, and she felt her cheeks red as her eyes quickly looked to where his loincloth sat, hugging his hips and highlighting his manhood. Swallowing, she looked away, a strange heat growing in her belly. She had never been with a man before; she did not know what lay beneath, so why was it making her feel this way? Her eyes darting between his crotch and his face, she remembered her dream. The feeling of a man's hand in hers, how he had led her toward the pomegranate grove, and the feelings he had stirred up in her. Feelings of unrestrained passion, lust, and fear had mingled within her. Here, in life, they were almost just as strong. Was this indeed the man of her dreams?

By then, the purple and pink sky had faded and been replaced with a dusky yellow, slowly fading to a light blue. She kept returning to his eyes, the way they seemed to see through her and all of her at once. She felt as if she was drowning as she looked into them, pulled down into their abyss. Her mind was screaming in danger, but her heart was yelling something else. Beating rapidly in her throat, she felt the intoxication of his presence beginning to lull her in, and she fought against it as best she could.

He was looking back at her just as intently, his golden-flecked eyes betraying nothing. His strong jaw and pouty lips were enchanting as she took every inch of him in. Feeling herself move of her own accord, she suddenly found herself walking toward him, unable to restrain herself any longer.

All she saw were the piercing dark eyes that cradled her soul, and she tasted the blood wine on her lips. Stopping just in front of him, her dark eyes bore into his, searching. Her heart was beating out of her chest, her breath almost coming out in sharp gasps. She reached out her hand in front of his face, tracing the air in front of him. The air around him felt electric, domineering, powerful, seductive… Being this close to him, smelling the Kyphri incense on his skin, she felt as if she was buoyant in the air, floating away into the clouds. His golden eyes, warmed by the morning sun, were no longer intense; they were soft and curious. She gazed into them, getting lost in them, feeling as though she had wings.

He spoke then, breaking the silence. "Goddess…what is your name?"

His voice sent shivers down her spine, turning it to custard. She wanted to hear it whispered in her ears for eternity. Breaking from her reverie, she answered, her voice soft. "Ancksunamun," she whispered, her eyes trained on his.

"Ancksunamun." He murmured, his voice deep and musical.

Her name on his lips made her swallow hard as a sudden heat began to pool in her abdomen. She had never felt this way before. The moment felt magical, tucked away into another dimension where time ceased to exist. Losing herself in all that he was, she found herself leaning in without thought, lips parted.

Suddenly, the sound of a falcon crying overhead broke the magic spell. They both startled, stepping away from one another. Ancksunamun felt the dizziness in her head threatening to overcome her. She looked panicked at the sun, noting that it was midmorning.

"I must go!" She said, mostly wanting to get away from him as fast as possible. She felt like a fool, allowing herself to think even for a moment that the Pharaoh's High Priest and Vizier would be interested in her. Biting her lip and looking back at him, she had a strange feeling that he, too, had felt the magic, but that was silly. Wasn't it?

Frustrated tears sprang to her eyes, and she made to wipe them away but was stopped by a gentle hand. He looked at her now, the windows to his soul bared, and wiped away her tears. Sniffling, she smiled awkwardly at him and made to leave but was stopped by a firm grip on her hand. Turning back to look at him, he opened his mouth to speak but apparently thought better of it and closed it again. Releasing his grip on her, he let her leave without another word.

Bowing gracelessly and turning away quickly, Ankcsunmaun rushed up the steps to the garden and turned around at the top, looking down on a very forlorn Imhotep. She smiled sadly and disappeared through the garden gate, heading for the palace.

Imhotep watched her figure retreat. "Ancksunamun…" he whispered under his breath as the last tendrils of her aura disappeared through the garden gate. Emptiness filled his being as her intoxicating scent of jasmine and myrrh blew away on the breeze, leaving nothing behind but a whisper of her presence. A profound loneliness filled the space in his heart where it had been beating out of his chest minutes before, aching to be near her.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he relived their short time together. A strong feeling of electricity had vibrated in the air between them, and it had taken all of his strength then and there not to pull her into his arms and hold her. His head was a jumbled mess of questions, and his heart and head were battling it out. How could he resist her now when he had been so close? His fingers had longed to reach out and touch her stunning golden face, feeling her full lips on his.

She had made a peculiar gesture in the air in front of him, and it had felt as if she was speaking to his soul in a language only they knew. It had felt indescribably erotic in its simplicity. Her curvacious body had been mere inches from his, radiating pure carnal energy. Soft and grabbable, he had been unable to tear his eyes away. He had wanted to kiss every inch of her delicate neck, down to her perky breasts, and between her supple dancer's thighs. Groaning in his remembrance, Imhotep felt himself stir, and he resisted its temptations, falling back into his daydream.

Looking into her dark eyes, he had felt as if he had seen a mirror image of himself. Beauty and passion had swirled in her eyes, but below it lay something darker, something potent and mysterious. That part of her had called out to him, making him feel as if he was genuinely seen for the first time. Inky darkness had simmered in the obsidian depths, resembling his own buried feelings of wickedness, which he so desperately tried to contain.

Imhotep shook his head, turned away from the garden wall, and looked toward the Nile. It flowed quickly this morning, as it had rained the night prior, signifying the beginning of the flood season. A time of fertility, newness, and growth. Sighing, Imhotep sat on a rock near the shore's edge, his heart feeling raw and jagged as he fought his own demons. He knew that with the way he was feeling, there was no way he'd be able to keep himself from her. But another part of him knew that he did not deserve her. Looking now to the heavens, he turned his face to the sun, feeling its brilliance warm his face. Internally he wept. She was a Goddess, exquisite and untouchable. He was a despicable man who carried out the Pharaoh's evil deeds like a coward, never thinking for himself.

Turning away from the flowing river, Imhotep felt an indescribable sadness take hold of him. No, he did not deserve someone like her, and he never would.