No beta, and I wrote this ages ago, so sorry for all mistakes-there will be a few at least, I'm sure.
DISCLAIMER: The Mummy isn't mine, etc.
Enjoy.
Oh, and one last note, there isn't a ton of info in regards to religious ceremonies in old Egypt, so a lot of this is just me filling in blanks. I was raised Catholic, so elements of that lended themselves to me.
-XXX-
Weeks passed. Masika became reasonable adept as performing the rites, the prayers, singing the traditional glories. Anointing herself with the spicy oil was still a little off, and she was always mixing up the motions. Imhotep never missed a single ceremony. He was always there, standing back in the shadows, watching her every motion with keen eyes. Sometimes he reminded her of a predator- - - a falcon, perhaps, or a leopard. She never knew what to say, or do, to avoid his gaze. She made it quite clear with sublet gestures that he made her uncomfortable. Even still, his eyes sought hers from across the room in court. Nefertiri said it was not a bad thing-the priest was single in his life, and a marriage would be most advantageous. Masika knew her father wished her to marry a Greek, but she said nothing about that matter to the Princess, knowing she could not understand.
Some nights, when she caught his eyes on her, she could practically hear in her mind the name he now called her habitually. Panya. Mouse. My little mouse. Panya.
It was one of these nights that he approached her. She had escaped to the reflecting pool in the Pharaoh's gardens, tired of music and wine. The pool was uninhabited for the evening; most would rather drink or dance than observe the graceful simplicity of the peaceful water. Slipping away was easy enough-it was not as though anyone was counting on her. The teenaged princess was occupied with her suitors, Masika's father was talking business with a few nobles. She was certain to not be missed.
The pool's calm setting called to her. A curious ripple was echoing through the water. Masika did not mind to investigate, however, the current did bring a rise of curiosity in her.
Sitting down on the clay-coloured stones that lined the water, she noticed a small, dark grey thing struggling in the water. A mouse, straining to tread water. A very little mouse. Masika rushed to reach it, leaning far, far over to scoop the small creature up to safety. It quivered between her palms. She lifted her hem for a section of dry fabric, and dried the mouse as best she could. The small grey thing wriggled, frightened even in the hands of its savior. Masika cooed softly to promise the rodent protection. She would take it far from the pool, nearer the stables. He would gorge himself on grain, without risking death by the palace cook's brutal hand. Besides, she knew a few of Seti's stallions had a particular fondness for mice.
For the moment, though, Masika sat on the stone edge of the pool, stroking the shivering creature with one finger, tenderly murmuring old Grecian songs she'd learnt from her father. With the mouse out, the pool was again a smooth piece of silver. She admired it, watching the reflections. Pinpricks of stars, black silhouettes of swaying trees, the pearly crescent of the moon, wrapped in night, the figure on the opposite shore-
"What?"
Masika blink. She had no time to be afraid, so mere confusion swept over her.
The person kneeled at that water's edge. She could see dark shadows for eyes practically consuming the visage. Glinting 'round the neck a metal of pure sunlight. He shifted, and the white of his shendyt rustled, the gold of his belt also sparkling. Masika felt her throat close as the figure bent further, as though in worship, to touch the water's glassy surface with a single figure.
The resulting ripple resounded throughout the pool. With each wave there was a sparkle of silver, spark-like. Masika clutched the swimming mouse to her, gasping. Whatever magic this was it was big, like nothing she'd seen before. Few could perform such a spell-a spell for what cause? Masika was afraid to find out. As the waves approached her side of the pool, she scrambled backwards and up the steps, back to the pavilion, to light, all too ready to leave.
She had eyes only for those steps, being very careful not to trip. But it was a useless attempt. At the very top of the stairway stoop the figure. The sorcerer. The man.
Masika could see now. "Imhotep."
His features were relatively impassive, mouth set, but his gaze was unlike anything she had seen before. Solid and dark and so warm. Masika quivered in place, as frightened as her mouse. She'd heard of circumstances of this nature, when a man approached a young woman, appealing to her with soft words, seeking divine pleasures of flesh. And she knew what could happen if a certain types of men were refused. It had happened to one of Nefertiri's maidens only last year. The girl was something of a spirit. But the encounter left her so utterly disgraced as to throw herself into the Nile for shame. Nefertiri was furious. The man received no punishment. But such was the court of Seti.
She would do it. Comply. It was a cowardly. Dishonorable. But Masika never claimed any nobility. Only a want of life.
He was the High Priest. If she were to refuse him, he could very well rain hell upon her and her family. Her honor could be placed under question, her position in Seti's court vanish, association with Princess Nefertiri disappear. Aside from that, who knew what magics he possessed?
The Pharaoh's High Priest was never one of the men she's have thought to "indulge" in such activities. But all of those stares…she should have seen this coming. Foolish of her, to not predict.
Slowly, Masika backed down the stairs. Mouse clutched to her breast, she was entirely silent. The High Priest descended after, but made no uncouth advances. Desperately avoiding his eyes, Masika opened her palms, looking at the damp mouse.
"Panya," Imhotep said suddenly. It startled her; whether the address was to her or the animal she couldn't tell. Didn't know if she wanted to know. He scared her.
Again, the imposing man spoke. "Panya. I have observed from afar so long…" a hand rose, then halted midway in the air. Masika waited. He continued. "When you became bride to our temple, I knew I was blessed, but I could not…You do me honor, Rehama."
With each word came another step. He was inches from her now. Masika could not move, could not breath, nor speak.
This time, his hand met her flesh, and Masika nearly fainted away, leaning inadvertently into the limb. The pad of one thumb stroked her cheekbone. These were not words to prologue an assault. Had he come again to thank her for her work at the temple? Where was this going?
"I have waited, but," he breathed. She wouldn't have thought high priests could ever be nervous. "It has been too much. Too long. I declare myself to you, Masika Oni-Rehama. By the gods that witness my love, I swear that I worship you more than any stars or moons or suns."
Masika stared. Her chest was utterly frozen. The sound of his breathing filled her ears. Out of all the things the High Priests could have said, this had not been something she considered. How could Imhotep want anything to do with her? A high priest and sorcerer declaring his heart to a foreigner?
"You do not need to respond." His hand was still upon her cheek. "Just…know of my feelings. Know that I shall desire you all of my days."
Oh, how she felt like a mouse. Utterly wretched. Weak and meek and so, so uncertain." What to say?" But he spared her with a plea.
"Do not fear me."
"My lord," Masika finally began, voice low. "I am so, so honored. But you cannot- - -you are mistaken. I am no one to fall in with."
Surprised, he laughed aloud. "No," he assured her. "Rehama, your compassion fills me. Your kindness and heart… I want nothing from you, please understand. For so long, I have desired to tell you. I am sorry-"
She bit her lip. "Please, my lord you are too kind. Do not apologize. You have done nothing to give offense."
"What might I do to assure you of my love? To what gods might I appeal for your affection?"
Compelled by pity and compassion, Masika took his open hand with her free one. The High Priest closed his eyes with their contact, sighing slightly. Masika's heart clenched. He was young- - -no more than five years older than she, perhaps three-and-thirty years. His position had given him a great burden of age, however. She felt his distance- - - he was not a man to be close to anyone. For him to speak to her in such a manner must surely have been a great pain.
Wanting to easy him to comfort, she spoke. "I know not what you may do, only that I do not understand how it is you love me. I am no one."
"You are a kind person. A vision," he told her, eyes still closed."Could you find any regard for me, Masika Oni-Rehama?"
"Oh, yes," the merchant's daughter replied. "Much. But of love, I do not know."
When his dark eyes flickered open, Masika saw only a flicker of disappointment. Then, calm.
"I can teach you of love."
She nearly laughed. "Love, something to teach?"
For the first time in her presence, he smiled.
-XXX-
He escorted her to the stables to release the mouse. According to Imhotep, he'd actually placed the mouse in the water himself, hoping Masika might come to the creature's rescue so that he might approach her. It stunned her, but she said nothing. He'd been clever. She secretly had to admire his determination.
They released the mouse. Then, silent, they walked back to the pavilion. Once within the halo of light surrounding the palace, Imhotep stopped, taking up Masika's wrist delicately.
"I do not wish to offend. But if your feelings differ from mine…if you do not wish to try, then please say now."
Masika stared upward, absorbing his words. "I do not know, my lord, if I can say my exact feelings. But, I am willing to find them, if that's what it will take."
Satisfied, Imhotep smiled again. Masika smiled back, slow, sweetly, hoping that their entire encounter wasn't a mistake.