Disclaimer: I don't own squat, not a damn thing. Well, I own a rather nice pair of red Converse high-tops, but that's it. As far as Ardeth, Evy, or Rick, no, sorry, not mine. The OC, however, is mine. Flames will be used to light my backyard barbecue pit. Please R&R, especially if you read the old version.

-Belle

She had traveled this route every day for as long as she could remember. She'd been serving the workers at the Pharaoh's quarry since she was ten, and every day when she went to market to run errands she traveled by the south gate of the palace. Often she'd look up and wondered who he was that so many poor men were breaking their backs to build a tomb for. It wasn't her palce to deny him, though, and so she passed in peace every day of her life. It wasn't until she was around twenty one that she began to notice one of the guards who stood outside the gate. She was sure he hadn't been there long, she was very observant in these matters. Some days he was there, and some days he was not. She would smile to herself when she saw him, though, for he was a particularly handsome man. Then, a few months later she noticed that he seemed to be there every day, and so she began to look forward to seeing him as she passed.

It became as certain as the rising sun. She would pass early in the morning, and there he'd be, tall and dark and motionless at his post. She knew he did not see her, so she saw no harm in looking forward to her morning trek. It was bizarre for any one of the Pharaoh's guards to have the same post and the same shift every day, but she never particularly cared to ponder the reasoning. After awhile she had a sense of ownership, not of the man himself, but of his image just for those few seconds. For as long as it took for her to pass by, his place in the world was immutable and wholly hers. It was fun, almost a game to wonder if he'd still be at the south gate, but he always was. By this time she had married and had a few children, but little did that matter. It was her innocent hobby, and it brought her joy.

One year, on the first day of the rainy season, she was in an unnusually fair mood. The chores for the quarry foremen were few and had already been passed out to other slavewomen, and so she went to market to browse on her own time, though she had no money with which to buy anything. As she walked she realized she was approaching the south gate and her heart lifted a little further. There was a new bounce in her step since she carried no burden with her. As she walked in front of the palace, she decided it was time to take a look at the man full on, for she had not seen the front of his face except from the corner of her eye. As she turned her head and smiled, she was in awe. Piercing brown eyes bored into her and her heart nearly stopped. His face was far fairer than she'd imagined and as their eyes locked, she was suddenly very aware of herself. Her straw wig itched and her sandles were beginning to wear through. She had sparse jewelry, only a simple copper bracelet and a silver anklet that she treasured beyond anything. He was a warrior, a man of honor and prestige and she turned her head away, esaping into the crowds. Never again would she chance a look at him.

Lira blinked a few times. It was perhaps three in the afternoon and she'd been in the middle of folding some of the spare robes she'd been lent. The humiliation of the woman in her dream filled her and it was soon paired with an intense feeling of anger. She new that face, and the only way it could be the same face was if that man, that Ardeth Bay was somehow feeding these dreams to her. His experience with ancient curses only hightened her suspicions and she was suddenly faced with a delicate situation. She had already confronted him, though, and she suspected this was a retaliation. She certainly was not going to sit there and take it. Additionally, she now had no interest in being escorted by this man's "friends." She wanted nothing to do with him or any of his acquaintances. It was all just a little to creepy for her.

To be honest, she hadn't really believed that little tale that the Med-Jai chief had told her, but it had been interesting and she'd wondered how many generations that story had passed through. Now, she was beginning to think this ancient curse stuff may have some validity, and that possibility only opened the door to a whole mess of things she didn't want to think about. They'd actually begun shortly after she woke up from her heat exhaustion, but they were vague and blury. They had been scenes of a large quarry with thousands of men sculpting and digging and chiseling. She seemed to be doing various chores. Never had they featured that strange guard until after she'd spent that morning talking Ardeth. So, she continued folding, agrily shoving the robes into a basket laid at the foot of her cot. She couldn't think of any way to make it stop. She just had to keep quiet and stay off his radar until she left. Then, she could give his friends the slip and maybe make her way north and up into Turkey. There was nothing for her in Greece anymore.

There was nothing for her here, either. She'd thought for a moment that perhaps there was. She was particularly fond of these people, the few she'd met. The lifestyle was agreeable, the clothing was surprisingly comfortable, and the food wasn't bad either. She'd had half a mind to ask their leader for a little more time. That is, until he began fiddling with those visions she'd been having. They never came to her at night, but instead during the day, as though her mind was randomly switching between bodies. They were eerily realistic, detailed visons of a place she didn't recognize. Nothing had looked familiar to her and that fact alone was troubling. It occured to her that perhaps he had nothing to do with the strange images in her head, but how could that be? How could he be showing up in these scenes, scenes she correctly assumed were set far in the past, unless he was somehow tampering? Then again, the visions in themselves were bizarre. She must have fried her brain out there in the desert, and her mind may have just been imposing his image into the dream because... well, because he was the face she saw when she passed out, and seeing him again woke something up in her brain.

That was it. That had to be it. There was no other logical explaination. Lira couldn't help but laugh at herself. Ancient magic mind control indeed! What kind of woman was she? And that story! Well, that's all it was, a nice little adventure story told by a man who was trying to distract her from the truth. Not that she could really blame him. He was trying to protect the secrets of his tribe. On that note, she realized, it would probably be proper to appologize for her accusations. As if she'd not made herself fool enough already, she'd gone and spouted off about weird voodoo dream magic. It was ludicrous. Yes, she must go appologize as soon as possible. She looked around at the empty tent. Finding, much to her dismay, that there was nothing left to occupy her time, she slowly stood up and headed for the flap of the tent. May as well bite the bullet and get it over with.

Lira had not yet had to make a visit to anyone's private tent, and she was rather unsure of the exact protocol. She couldn't very well know. There was no bell to ring. So, for a minute, she just stood, staring up at the space where the two flaps met. Thus she was found, slightly in a daze and not paying a great deal of attention.

"May I help you?" came that familiar, silky smooth voice from behind her. Lira started a little and turned. Her face was a little flushed, but otherwise she held her dignity rather weel.

"I was contemplating the alternative to knocking." she replied honsetly, glancing back at the tent flaps, "Really is quite impracticle." Ardeth's arms were crossed. She was suspiciously amiable, more like the woman she'd been on their ride together.

"Is there something..." he began, sounding almost bored and certainly perturbed at her presence.

"Now listen. If you're going to be difficult, I'm just going to return to my tent and you'll never get the appology I came to deliver." she interjected, crossing her arms and lifting an eyebrow, waiting for either a bitter come-back or quiet acceptance. Ardeth, for a moment was without words. People didn't interrupt him. Not that he was particularly angry about it, it just didn't happen, and this was the second time she'd done it.

"I'm sorry," Ardeth said more softly, unfolding has arms and allowing them to drop gracefully at his side, "I should not have been so harsh. Please, say whatever you feel you need to say." Lira nodded in acceptance. Perhaps he wasn't such a bear after all.

"I'm sorry about that silly accusation I threw at you the other day. It was, besides completely ludicorus, very insensitive and ill thought out. I've been a littel on edge and these... dreams or whatever have been happening ever since I regained consciousness." Lira smiled, "I suppose it's probably just a side effect from the dehydration and malnutrition and exposure. Anyway, my mind probably recognized you as the person who found me in the desert and transposed your face into my dreams. In short, I was being silly." Ardeth thought for a moment. He'd never heard of heat exhaustion triggering this particular problem, especially lasting for two or more weeks after she incident. Yet, he said nothing, and only smiled.

"Appology accept." he replied humbly, inclining his head with a hand over his heart. Lira nodded back and began to walk baklc toward her side of the camp. There was a hand on her shoulder and she turned, intentionally avoiding his eyes.

"How would you like me to teach you a few offensive sword techniques?" he asked, not sure exactly where it came from, but he felt that it might help salvage their good will. Lira smiled, about to rufuse before he interjected, "It couldn't hurt." Before she could stop them, the words escaped her lips.

"Why not?"

A/N: So here's the second chapter tonight. I did promise it. And here it is. Do I get some kudos?