A/N: Nefertari, with an 'a', was one of principal wives of Rameses II and also his favorite queen. Her origins are somewhat unknown, but it is believed that she was either an Egyptian lady of noble birth or possibly even a daughter of Seti I, since she carried the title of 'Hereditary Princess'. In true Hollywood fashion, I have disregarded all historical truth and made Nefertari and Nefertiri one person for the purpose of furthering the story's plot. I apologize to any Egyptologists out there for the fact that I am not sorry in the least.
Of all the things Rick could think of to say about his wife at that moment, this was foremost: Evelyn had impeccable timing.
She had chosen the most auspicious moment possible to emerge from the study the previous night, just in time to discover him sprawled on his back in the front foyer, too drunk to walk, complaining that his wallet felt too light and demanding she inspect it to ensure that Jonathan hadn't pocketed the £10 note he had been keeping there.
Drunkenness is one of those habits you're expected to renounce when you marry a proper lady like Evie, or at the very least reserve for private family functions. It is not something you indulge in with your notorious rogue of a brother-in-law in any sort of public forum, particularly when you yourself have an unsavory history with alcohol and loose women.
His wife was understandably disappointed in this relapse into his old lifestyle and had promptly thrown him out of the house. She was, however, in a generous enough state of mind upon completing her self-appointed task to call him a taxicab and supply him with enough money to reach Jonathan's flat.
After a great deal of soul-searching and even more sobering-up, neither of which the environment in Jonathan's home had been very conducive to, he was now standing on his own doorstep in the pouring rain feeling like a fool and a half. He raised his fist to knock, having forgotten his key in all the tumult of the night before, but it opened before he touched it. He and Evelyn stared at each other around the barrier of the half-open door, an identical expression of pain on their faces. He reached out and took the door from her hand, but then discovered himself at a momentarily lapse as to what to do next, standing there dumbly in the rain.
"Well," she arched one elegant eyebrow at him, "aren't you coming in?"
More than slightly embarrassed, and certainly humbled, by the position he found himself in, he took up a defensive stance. "I've got a better idea--why don't you come out here?"
She appeared suitably horrified by the idea. "Rick, are you mad? It's raining."
"Really?" he feigned surprise, extending one palm-up hand to the dismally grey clouds and observing the heavy droplets as they trickled over his fingertips. "So it is."
"Stop playing around and come inside before you catch your death."
"What if I did? Would you care?" he asked recklessly.
"Ooo, Rick! Of all the questions to ask…" She squirmed with a mixture of exasperation and love, her answer apparent in those unspoken words.
Her reaction gave him hope. "Does that mean I'm forgiven?"
"Not a chance, darling."
"In that case, its actually kinda nice out--" He winced as a particularly large and watery rain drop splattered on his face, rolling painfully slowly to drip off the tip of his nose. "A little damp, but nice nonetheless. I might just stay out here for a while…"
"Suit yourself."
"...at least until I'm all clammy and corpse-y, and then maybe you'll take a second look at me."
"That was a hurtful thing to say. I was going to offer to make you a cup of tea, but now I think you deserve to stand outside all day." She pried his fingers off the door and began to swing it closed.
"Fine," he grated out as he jammed his foot against the door and shouldered it open again. "But I insist on having someone to keep me company."
"What--no--," she barely managed before he circled her waist with one arm and extracted her out of shelter of the doorway. She yelped and writhed in his grasp, lashing out with her fists as the rain flattened tendrils of her hair against her face. "Help! Please…"
With one squeeze, he crushed her closer to his chest, effectively preventing any more movement, and grinned happily down at her half-hearted struggle. "What are you yelling for? Who do you think is going to rescue you this time?"
She ceased to resist, and when he loosened his grip in response, she freed an arm to brush her sodden hair purposefully out of her eyes. "My husband," she answered with conviction.
"Oh, so you're married, then?"
"Yes, but you've probably seen him around, he's hard to miss. Tall." She reached up to tousle his hair. "Handsome. Thick accent…Dumb as an ox and a complete brute. Threatens first and asks questions later."
"I don't know; he's doesn't sound all that awful. At least he's handsome."
"You, sir, have never been married to him."
It had been a very long two days, and suddenly Rick discovered himself with his arms full of possibly the most enticing woman on earth, flirting shamelessly. And he abruptly lost his patience with all forms of conversation. "Dammit, Evelyn," he growled, outmaneuvering her last efforts to evade him and pressing her near enough that not even the rain could slip between them. He kissed her, making sure that she became as drenched as he was in the process.
"You're still not forgiven," she murmured fiercely against his lips.
He opened his eyes and slanted a heart-quickening smile at her. "I'm not?"
"No, you're not. One kiss is certainly not enough to make me forgive you."
"I must be losing my touch, then."
She frowned and retreated the inch or so that his arms allowed. "This," she said earnestly, "is exactly why I didn't want you around."
"Evie, as much as I love it when you're cryptic, I don't understand."
"You, Mister O'Connell, are a distraction. I can't focus on anything when you're near. I can't even remember what I'm supposed to be angry at you about."
"Distraction, hmm? This could work to my advantage."
A small smile curved the outermost edges of her mouth and she leaned back into him. "I…I truly am sorry, Rick. For not realizing that it would hurt your feelings. I've never had much of an opportunity to consider how my actions affect other people before. There is Jonathan, of course, but that's something completely different, isn't it?"
"God, I hope so," he quipped, then reminded himself sternly to take this seriously. "But, yeah, I am too. Sorry, that is. For not trying to understand, and, you know, overreacting. I've been selfish, and I can't promise never to do it again, but I swear I'll do better." After a moment of solemn silence, he blinked unexpectedly. "So, that's it?"
"That's what?"
"That was it our first fight? As a married couple?"
"Ye-e-s," she drawled charmingly in her confusion, "I suppose so. But what's wrong?"
"Well, I was expecting it to be more…dramatic. I thought you might throw something heavy and breakable at me."
"It's never too late to start."
"No, never mind. Besides, now that all the apologies are taken care of…," he tugged her irresistibly towards him, "…maybe I can get down to the business of atoning for my sins." His lips drifted languidly towards hers for an endless moment. "I think," he whispered roughly as he pulled up short, "that it would be best to move this inside, where it's not raining."
"Rick," she murmured urgently, her breath on his lips. He momentarily forgot all about the movement he was planning on making towards the door.
"Yeah?"
"Let's go to Egypt."
°
Nefertiri unexpectedly found herself clinging with more tenacity and strength than her slight build was logically capable of to the sword arm of one of her oldest friends. "Humay, please. Spare this man."
In the course of the conflict in the Theban street, the woman that had been the catalyst for the whole confrontation had been all but forgotten. She, on the other hand, had been one of the most avid observers of the exchange, and in the final, pivotal instant she had at last found an opportunity to intervene. Moved by some inexpressible external motivation, she leapt to the defense of this stranger who had mysteriously evoked so much pity in her.
"Nefertiri?" Caught off guard by her action, the captain betrayed a degree of intimacy that usually none were allowed in such public places. He recovered his composure and lowered his arm beneath her weight, but he did not sheath his weapon. "I am afraid I do not understand, Radiant One. What would you have me do with him?"
Nefertiri grasped for a reason that justified her rash action, and fortunately divine inspiration had not completely abandoned her. "Must we make enemies of those who might be friends? Think, Humay, of all the benefits of having one such as him alive, with all the knowledge in his head intact."
He escaped her clutching fingers. "My lady, are you possibly suggesting--"
"I am."
"You believe this--man--would give us military secrets in trade for his life? That he is not so much of a coward that he would deceive us for the chance of a few more days in Amun-Ra's light? Your innocence is charming, but you are ignorant to the true characters of men."
"I happen to believe I am an excellent judge of character. After all, there is a reason that you have remained one of my oldest and closest friends."
Humay opened his mouth before letting it fall into a deep frown for a moment. "Flattery seems entirely inappropriate in such a grave situation."
Her smile was triumphant, and her voice held a light, cheerful note. "Not if it works, my dear captain. Now if you would kindly ask your prisoner his opinion on the matter…"
"I cannot express to you how highly I disapprove--"
The man who had so recently been preparing to die now found this the ideal time to interrupt. It had taken him some time to comprehend the conversation that was taking place over him, given that it was a rapid exchange in a foreign language that his skills were admittedly lacking in, but now that he understood he was far from pleased to be spared from the sword. Truthfully, he had initially been relieved, but at the present he had no gratitude towards this Egyptian woman who so clearly was scheming to use him to her own advantage, perhaps to advance her standing in the Pharaoh's court.
Labarnas started forward a step, warningly, "Listen, lady--"
The point of the Medjai's sword met with the Hittite's throat, with enough precision just to knick the skin, letting a few drops of blood bead on the surface. Labarnas winced with the sting.
"Careful," Humay snapped as he dropped the sword to waist-level again, an unseen violence surfacing from beneath his perpetual serenity, the true mark of the man who could lead such a fearsome company of warriors. "Even a Hittite prince should know the proper words with which to address a lady of rank, or perhaps I should believe those rumors of our barbaric neighbors to the north."
Labarnas clenched his teeth and quaked with outrage. "Lady," his tone was clipped and distant, "if you would accept my humblest apologies; it has been quite some time since I have been in the presence of a woman of such magnificence and I have forgotten myself. Still, you must understand my objection to being used so--to ask me to betray the place of my birth, my people, it is an unthinkable disgrace."
"True," Nefertiri said insightfully, "but since you are here and not in Hatti, obviously there must have been some rift between yourself and your homeland. There must be a story to tell."
For an instant, Labarnas' eyes darted to the ground before returning the neutral space just beyond the woman's left shoulder. "There is nothing to be said."
The displeasure of the Medjai was still written in the iron set of his jaw, but he would not allow anyone but himself to deter Nefertiri. "The lady is being very generous with you, Prince Labarnas. She asks only a small favor in return, but it is your own choice: your words or your life."
The young man's inner turmoil was betrayed only by the corner of his mouth, which twitched once, before finally settling into a stony, chilly countenance. "If you insist, Captain Humay, but I still think it's too plain a tale to be of interest to either of you. You see, I'm an orphan; my father died when I was very young fighting to protect our lands from the advances of Pharaoh Seti, and my mother succumbed to illness a few seasons later. From then on, I was passed from relative to relative, aunt and uncle and cousin." He fumbled laboriously over his words as he spoke, not only because he was translating his thoughts into Egyptian, but also because he was unaccustomed to making long speeches and his story left him feeling unnerved and exposed. "I became a particular favorite of my uncle, King Muwatallis, when I was younger. He showered me with expensive gifts, lands, titles…But--but there's really no use for superfluous princes once they grow up, is there? Not unless they want to quietly disappear into the priesthood, which I had no intention of doing. So there had to be another way for my uncle to remove me as a threat to his throne, and quite conveniently for him, an old army friend of his accused me of plotting with some of his soldiers to overthrow Muwatallis. I was immediately stripped of all titles, my friends and family turned against me, and I became a fugitive, hunted like an animal in the places that I had grown up in. It was only my grandmother, who had nothing to fear from my uncle, that was able to smuggle me to safety, and I have been fleeing ever since, afraid that he will discover me if I stay too long in any place."
Nefertiri had drifted forward during his speech, drawn in by the emotion he was unintentionally betraying, and now she laid a hand on his arm. Labarnas flinched at the unexpected contact, and his eyes jerked upwards just in time to meet the Egyptian's, wide and hazel and sincere. "You need not worry anymore. You have reached a safe harbor, Prince Labarnas. I will personally assure you of your wellbeing here among us."
"I--" He stumbled over his protest, unable to resist the open honesty of her words, falling under the spell of her promise. His heart was beating erratically fast. "Thank you."
"As poignant as his story is, Bright One," Humay's voice sliced through the enchantment of the moment, "I hate to remind you that you have no authority to give this man such an oath."
"Then take him to my brother Rameses, tell him that I sent you and he will listen. Plea for him on behalf, have Labarnas retell his tale. If he can still put this man to death, then he has no heart."
"And what of your errand, my lady?"
"Reshed and Jarha will accompany me to place the proper offerings in my father's temple; his soul must not be neglected. You must return at once to the palace, I can trust only you with this duty, Humay."
"I am honored. Be safe, Nefertiri."
"And you."
Labarnas said nothing, unsure of what is the fitting goodbye to give your savior, standing still as he watched her part the crowd on the street as she passed. One especially brave individual stepped forward, barely brushing the tips of his fingers against her arm, as if she might turn to dust beneath his touch. "May Amun-Ra smile on you, gracious lady!" he cried out.
You had to be studying her very closely indeed to see the look of sadness and despair that touched her features before they burst forth into a radiant smile. "He already has," she assured the man.
Humay set a heavy hand on Labarnas' shoulder. The Hittite could not stand the question eating at him, and turned his head to ask the other man. "Her brother Rameses--that means that--"
"She is the Great Royal Wife Nefertiri, the Living God's esteemed wife and sister. You are familiar with the Egyptian practice of the Pharaoh marrying one of his sisters in the tradition of Osiris and his queen Isis, are you not?"
"Yes--no--what I mean is, is she a daughter of Seti?"
"Yes, that as well."
His eyes opened in wonder as he observed the retreating figure of the Egyptian queen, and the dry humor in his voice was not lost on the captain. "Then he did not sire a brood of hideous demons as I was brought up to believe."
For the first time, Humay smiled, only a slight smirk as he glanced sideways at Labarnas. "No, no he did not."
"She…" Labarnas strained his mind for something to describe that insubstantial something she had imparted to him, but there were no words. "She is surprisingly kind."
"You would already know that if you had stopped in any of the newer temples in your travels; Rameses inscribes her praises on every available surface. He adores her, all of Egypt adores her, and I, too, must confess a soft spot for the lady. So, if she really sees some nobility, some integrity, under all the grime you've acquired, then I will believe her. Actually, when I was--when you were about to die, I saw in you a self-discipline, a fearlessness. Either you are a devil, Lotus-Eyed One, and have nothing to fear from mortal weapons, or you are incredibly brave. I would like to think that Nefertiri was correct about you." The grip on Labarnas' shoulder tightened in a swift squeeze, propelling him into a walk alongside the Medjai. "But I am wasting time with speculation. Come, you have an audience with the Pharaoh."
Of course, all my gratitude to my first three reviewers, as well as a great big hello! You guys are awesome!
jessi-the-untalented: You have no idea how much you reassured me! I have so much trouble writing Jonathan, and I was worried that I had him all wrong.
Cookie044: I love them too!
LalaithCat: Don't die just yet. I expect to have you around for later chapters!