Ardeth, still a bit dizzy from the last moments of his first plane ride, follows Rick and Jonathan towards Hamunaptra through the hot, dry desert. He tolerates Jonathan's whining the entire time, mostly thinking on his uncle's final request.
"Ardeth," he whispers as Evy and Rick talk. "He won't let us get away, he will order the slaves to kill us all. I want you to get out of here, and find the dagger and pendant you found with Bahira when she was an infant. Give her the journal I've kept in the top drawer of my desk, and the letter beneath it." As Ardeth stares at him in disbelief before Evy makes her move, Terrence nods slowly. "I will make sure you have a chance to get away to do this, Ardeth. And you have my blessings, Bes," he whispers, before they tune back into their surroundings, Evy reluctantly pulling the identical children with her to Imhotep.
He knows exactly what, and who those items belonged to. The dagger had been a recently made goblin weapon, purchased by his friend James Potter for his child. Just weeks after the birth of his twins Ivy and Harry, he reported his daughter as being abducted, but listed as alive on the family tapestry. The child would have been sent back home, but by that point they had already gone into hiding, and not even the Medjai were able to get ahold of the Potter Lord and Lady. When they next heard of the Potters, it was only to find that Harry was no longer in the British Wizarding World, and long after the funerals.
For her safety, they had dubbed little Ivy Potter as Bahira.
Now, Ardeth was left with the task of telling the little girl she was only raised in Egypt, and that he knew of her origins from the beginning. Of course, if he lived through the task of rescuing her from the Creature, that is.
Harry, not knowing of anything better to do in their current situation, simply pulls out of Imhotep's grasp and takes Bahira's hand as they are led into the ancient city he had no knowledge of. "Bahira?" he asks quietly, and she turns to stare at him with teary eyes. "Why is he calling us Ammon and Rania?"
She sniffs and pulls her hand from Imhotep, not seeing the flicker of disappointment cross the mummy's features. "It's reincarnation," she states simply, and Harry frowns. "We had lives in Ancient Egypt, and were reborn with new lives," she explains.
"Is that why he's after us?" the little boy asks her quietly, gaze flickering up to Imhotep fearfully.
"Yeah, cuz he thinks we're the same people still," she whispers, squeezing Harry's hand. "Do you have the weird dreams too?"
He nods. "Sometimes. My aunt and uncle said my parents died in a car crash, but I remember a green light showing up. Then, I'm walking in this huge palace in the desert wearing robes like his, and I'm talking to a girl who looks just like you, but older, and some even older people who look like soldiers."
"That's like my dreams. But I never saw you until that vision in the car." She sneaks a quick glance up at the tall mummy beside her. "He's in all my dreams, at some point. In my dreams, I called him Daddy. But I think I like Papa better after all of this."
Imhotep, not understanding the language they speak, hides his smile at their interactions. They've met at a younger age this time, and now there is no denying that they are twins. Was it merely a coincidence that they were both Favored of Anubis, with similar looks, or was there more to it than that even back in his own era?
After all, Rania had only been delivered to him by the Medjai who had a letter from her grandmother, who abandoned the child on the palace doorstep.
Bes stares at the small child, wrapped in a small blanket, tucked into a basket with a letter addressed to High Priest Imhotep over the sleeping child's heart.
"What have you found, Bes?" his father asks from behind the teenage Medjai.
He turns to his father in confusion. "A child, with a letter to the High Priest," he murmurs with a frown. "The child is so small, it can barely be even a month old!"
The Chieftain comes and kneels beside his son, inspecting the child. "It's a little girl, and you're right about her being so young. Who would've left her without saying something in person though?" the outraged Medjai growls.
The child's eyes flutter open, revealing the most stunning emerald eyes either could imagine. Even in the dark of the night, her eyes seem to glow with power and wisdom, before her face scrunches slightly and a whimper leaves her mouth.
"Oh no…" the father groans, before reaching to lift the basket. "Please, don't cry little one, it's alright," he whispers, trying to soothe the child before she erupts into a tantrum.
Hesitantly, Bes reaches into the basket and lifts her into his arms gently. "It's alright, child. You are safe," he whispers to the infant, holding her close. Much to the relief of both males, the baby relaxes. Smiling at the little girl in his arms, Bes speaks once more. "Is that all you wanted? A little attention?" he asks, amusing his father and himself with the happy gurgle coming from the white-wrapped bundle. "Shall we take her to Imhotep, Father?"
"We should," he muses. "Since she seems to like you far more than I, you can carry her to his chambers," he informs his heir, who barely seems to notice as the little girl stares up at him intently. Shaking his head, he leads his son through the palace, up several floors through the gold-encrusted marble hallways. They pass fellow Medjai patrolling the halls, who only blink at the sight of the child in their future leader's arms.
Finally reaching the chambers of the High Priest, one of the gold-painted priests steps forward from his place beside the door. "Why do you call upon the Priest so late this night, Medjai?" he asks formally.
The chieftain pulls the letter from the basket. "My son found this child abandoned on the palace steps, with a letter addressed to him," he informs the lower priest, handing over the papyrus letter. "If he would rather us come back to discuss this in the morning, we will take our leave."
The golden man nods and bows slightly, taking the letter and vanishing into the dimly lit chamber of Imhotep. Minutes pass slowly as the Medjai wait in the dark corridor, Bes reduced to making funny faces at the child to keep her amused, as she refuses to go back to sleep anytime soon, her quiet giggles the only sound nearby.
Finally, the door opens silently to reveal an alert Imhotep, eyes wide with shock. "The child?" he asks hoarsely.
Bes steps forward, holding out the child. "She was alone when I discovered her, High Priest."
The man closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, before looking into the curious emerald eyes staring into his own warm brown ones. "She has her mother's eyes," he whispers softly, before lifting his gaze proudly to the Medjai. "Thank you for bringing her to me. She was left by her grandmother, who stated the mother died in childbirth. Her mother was the concubine that left to get away from the scandals surrounding her last year, and she claimed the child… that the child was mine."
"We shall take our leave, High Priest. Goodnight," the chieftain murmurs, bowing and backing away as the priests close the doors.
Imhotep turns away from the closed doors, eyes glued once more on the child he can't deny to be his. Her eyes may be the same color as her mother's, but they have his slightly more open shape. Her eyelashes and tiny tuft of hair indicate she has his hair color, or would if he didn't shave his head. But most of the rest is all her mother, especially her small nose and pouting, rosy lips.
He bows his head, and presses a kiss to her forehead. "I will care for you, my little child. My Rania," he vows.
He pulls himself out of the memory of discovering his child as they enter the city, traveling deeper into the ruins than any of the explorers had discovered before his awakening, into the heart of the city. The dark, damp sacrificial chamber looks almost exactly as he remembers from that night thousands of years ago. Even Anck-su-namun's body is still there on the table, only lacking the golden dagger for the sacrifice, and the canopic jars he carries with the Book of the Dead. He hears the light steps of the children from just behind him, and the woman and his servant arguing further back, close to the top of the stairs.
He ignores the other adults, and approaches the table where his love rests, undisturbed for three thousand years. He pulls out the jars, arranging them how they need to be, and is about to pull out the large black book when a gunshot rings out, echoing from the direction of the treasure room.
"Rick," Evy breathes, a smile touching her lips as she stares in the direction of the sound.
Furious, Imhotep takes one of the jars and pours the dust into his hand, before turning to the nearby wall and blowing the dust over the inscriptions, and shapes of the priests in the wall. "Rise and obey your master," he chants, eyes closed as he calls their souls back into the corpses hidden in the wall.
For a second nothing happens, until a groan echoes, almost like a cry of agony, before the human shapes break away from the wall, limping forward. The children back away with shouts of terror, as Evy and Beni step back. "Bembridge Scholars never wrote about this!" she gasps, before Beni grabs her upper arm, maneuvering her to stand between himself and the mummies. "Get off of me! Let go!" she yells at him, struggling in his grasp and swatting at his hand on her arm.
"Find them and destroy them!" Imhotep orders the mummified priests. "And awaken the others!" he calls after them, almost as an afterthought. He then turns to the woman and children with him. "Now, to keep you from causing any more delays…" he murmurs, before blowing the rest of the dust in his hands over the three of them.
Beni lowers Evy to the ground so his master's sacrifice isn't too badly damaged, while Imhotep lifts the children and carries them off to the side, where he finds the blankets and pillows he had taken from what had been left after the explorers had run from Hamunaptra. He arranges the children carefully in the makeshift bed, not noticing the image of Anubis he has placed them under as he covers the children with a warm blanket. He stays kneeling beside them for a moment, watching as the children unconsciously move closer to one another, Harry curling protectively around Bahira, her head resting against his shoulder.
He forces himself to rise and leave the children, motioning for his pathetic servant to bring one of the spare workbenches around the room up next to the sacrificial platform. He watches, amused, as the weasel of a man strains to pull one of the ancient, heavy tables to where he wants it, before turning to examine the woman once more. She looks rather familiar, not quite like Anck-su-namun, he now realizes, but like someone else he knows, fairly well. He just can't quite put his finger on who she looks so much like, before shrugging it off. She is still rather beautiful, and he almost wishes that he hadn't chosen her to be the sacrifice. Not that it matters anymore. He could satisfy himself with the fact that her beauty might only enhance his love's once she's taken what she needs from this woman.