A/N: Arabic conversation will be in italic.

His Desert Flower

Year: 1914

Tucking some of her greying hair under her scarf, Myrtle found herself looking down at her sleeping daughter, a small tear escaped her as she watched her only child sleep so soundly. Turning her eyes away from her sleeping form, Myrtle was struggling to keep herself from having a full-blown panic attack, but every day and night it was getting increasingly hard to do. Closing her eyes, doing what she could to ignore the hunger pains that were coursing through her body, but it had been close to four days since she even had a slice of bread, every scrap and sip of water was going to her little girl.

Myrtle knew that if she didn't figure something out quickly, Dalia would starve to death and that wasn't something that she would allow to happen if she could prevent it. Hanging her head, she was sick and tired of praying to a God that wasn't listening, but she kept praying, hoping that her pleas to protect her daughter would be heard by anyone. Blinking rapidly as hot tears started to slide down her face, Myrtle used her dirty sleeve to wipe them off her cheeks, all she could think about was how everything in her life went wrong.

It was ironic really, she was a devoted Christian woman who loved her husband, even when he had the bright idea to leave their home in England to come to Egypt, she fought so hard against it, but he sold her on the dreams of living a better life. Sighing, at first it was like he had said, a dream, but when he died, she was left in a foreign country with a 4-year-old alone and since then it had been a struggle to keep them alive, but for a while she was able to do so. However, everything changed when Mr. Winston Price came to the Palace Al Gezirah.

Tilting her head back, Myrtle couldn't do anything but think of that night and she wondered if her strong principles had doomed her child.

FLASHBACK (3 MONTHS AGO)

Smoothing down her uniform, Myrtle glanced over to the Palace Director, she could see that he was getting nervous, making her way over to him, she lightly touched his shoulder. "Mr. Salah, why are you so nervous, this is one of the most sought-after hotels in the city of Cairo." Hoping that she was able to put in perspective that he didn't have much to worry about. The world's most elite members of society chose the Palace Al Gerzirah as their holiday destination, so Mr. Winston Price was going to be like the previous guests before him, impressed with the accommodations and their staff.

Abbas exhaled slowly, he let his eyes taking in the lobby, pleased that from the ceiling to the floors everything looked pristine, not that he expected anything less from the staff. Glancing down, his eyes found Ms. Davies attempting to comfort him, he always appreciated her natural calm demeanor, even when at times he probably didn't deserve it. Adjusting his taqiyah, he could feel his heart beating fast in his chest, "Thank you, Ms. Davies, as always you bring ease to an old man."

Chuckling a bit, "I do try." Taking one last look around the lobby, Myrtle knew that she needed to double check the royal suite because this Mr. Price demanded the best, and since the royal family wasn't here nor coming for the next couple of months, Mr. Salah was in no position to refuse such business. Stepping back, she found him staring out the front doors, "Sir, I need to make sure the cleaning staff stocked Mr. Price's room as he instructed in his telegram. After that, would you mind if I headed to my apartment, I'm sure Dalia is getting hungry."

"Of course, unless you are needed, I will see you first thing in the morning. Goodnight, Ms. Davies." His eyes followed her as she made her way up the stairs, she was one of the only members of the staff that was allowed to use them, everyone else needed to use the servant's corridors while moving through the Palace. Hearing a horn, Abbas took a deep breath and double timed it outside, while it wasn't his job per say, he always made it a point to greet the VIP clients.

Stepping out of his car, Winston couldn't help but smile at his accommodations for the month, if the outside was maintained like this, he could only imagine what the inside would be like. Turning to his butler, rolling his eyes at how he struggled to get his luggage off his car. "Lovejoy, if you as so much as scratch my Rolls-Royce, I will have you hanged!" he grumbled out.

Swallowing some spit, "I'm sorry sir."

Rolling his eyes, Winston really didn't have time for his pathetic antics, "Just get my things to my suite, I don't want to be standing around all day looking like I don't have control over my staff." Shaking his head, it was annoying that a man like him had to keep repeating himself to those lesser than him, as his great-grandfather told him, 'The world was as you made it, so make it how you desire.' And one thing that he did enjoy was having the world around him worship him for the man he was.

Clearing his throat, Abbas flinched at the tone in which he spoke to his own man, knowing that if this was how he treated his own staff, the people inside the palace would not fair so well. Straightening his spine, he turned to his bellhop, "Get Mr. Prices bags to his suite." Indicating for him to help the butler. Stepping down the stone steps, Abbas found himself looking down at the small man, "Good afternoon, Mr. Price, I hope you travelled well."

Rubbing his chin, Winston sized up the help, pleased to see that the man in front of him kept his eyes lowered in his presence, seeing that brought him great satisfaction. "It was adequate enough." Seeing the bellboy, "My luggage costs more than you would make in this lifetime, do not just toss it around, understood?" Smirking a bit at his obvious discomfort.

Neil nodded quickly. "Of course, Mr. Price. I will be extra careful." Placing everything on the trolley, he made his way towards Mr. Price's room, wanting to get as far away from the man as he possibly could.

Chuckling a bit as he watched the servant boy double time it out of his way. "It's good to see that your staff understands their place." Handing the man, a five-dollar bill, "My key?"

Abbas placed it in his hand, "Thank you so much, Mr. Price." Leading him towards the lift, pushing the button for the top floor, "Is there anything else you need from me at this time, Mr. Price?" Wanting to put a little distance between them.

Stepping into the lift, Winston cleared his throat, "No, not at this time." Before the doors shut, he was only concerned for one thing, "If I need something through the night?" Because there was no way on God's green earth that he was going to fetch anything like a dog.

"I have taken the liberty of having a valet being assigned to your room, his name is Hassan, he will stay in the servant quarters and be with you round the clock." Hoping that will be enough for Mr. Price.

Frowning a bit, he always hated having a stranger around his things, but the reputation of this establishment has reached the heart of Texas and if the British Royal family would stay here then he could too. "Excellent. Oh, and if I need some entertainment?" Perhaps it wasn't Christian, but there was nothing like a good whore to keep him occupied through the night.

Resisting the urge to flinch, Abbas never understood the need or desire to sleep with a woman whose only purpose was to have sex with men for money. Removing his hand from the lift's gate, "Hassan will be able to assist you with any arrangements, however, an unwritten rule is that they are never to be seen by our other guests. If you understand what I am saying." Regardless of who was staying in the Palace, he was instructed by the owner that no whores would ever walk these halls where the world could see them.

Nodding his understanding, Winston leaned back as the doors finally shut, while he hated having the local help tell him how to manage his company, it would be a huge disgrace on him if they kicked him out. Checking his pocket watch he could see that it was almost time for supper, wondering what they would be serving him. Stepping off the lift, he found a young man with dark brown skin waiting outside a set of golden doors. "Who the hell are you?" he snapped.

Bowing his head, "Mr. Price, my name is Hassan." Without completely turning his back, he quickly opened the door, "your butler Mr. Lovejoy and the bellhop brought in all of your luggage, sir." He said while he held the door open for the man.

Giving the boy a sneer as he walked past, Winston stepped into his suite, smiling at the decadence that left him almost speechless. From the dark wood that covered the floor, to the gold trim that lined the ceiling, everything was so far, fit for a king. Looking around as he walked deeper into the suite, his eyes fell towards a set of double doors, "What is in there?"

Keeping his head low, "That would be your sleeping chamber." Making his way over, Hassan gently pushed the doors open, "Mr. Lovejoy already hung your clothes, sir."

Winston walked past the kid, his eyes going wide, in the center of the room was a large four-poster bed, the headboard itself was made of what looked like solid gold, glancing around the rest of the room, no expense was spared, it was like he was a pharaoh of old and for a while this was his kingdom. "This is more than acceptable." Hearing a feminine voice, Winston made his way out to the sitting room, his eyes finding a beautiful blonde coming out of the pantry. Licking his lips as she moved, he turned to the boy, "Go fetch my dinner, bring me fine wine." He snapped, his eyes never leaving the woman's body.

Bowing, Hassan left the suite, not liking how Mr. Price was looking at Ms. Davies.

Clearing his throat, Winston couldn't help but chuckle as she jumped a bit.

Myrtle held her hand over her heart, frowning a bit as she watched the man smile at her state of shock. Taking a calming breath, she gave a polite curtsy, "Mr. Winston, I apologize, I was just making sure that you and your staff had everything you needed to make you feel at home."

Stepping towards her, he could see her body, even in that uniform he was sure it was something to behold, "How much for the night?" he asked her. His eyes moving slowly over her chest, pleased to see how round her breasts were.

Tilting her head, "Sir?" Taking a step back, Myrtle wanted to put a little distance between him and the door.

Rolling his eyes, "Don't play stupid, girl. I'm an exceedingly rich man and you are a beautiful woman, so how much would it take for you to give me a fun night?" Annoyed that he even had to repeat himself. Finding Lovejoy standing by the bar, "Pour me a whiskey." He ordered. Plopping down on the couch that was closest to him, his eyes finding the woman making her way towards the door. "I didn't say you could leave."

Turning the handle, Myrtle bit her cheek, it was taking all her strength not to walk over and slap that stupid look off his face. "Mr. Price, I do not need your permission to leave, you are not my boss nor my employer." Swinging the door wide, "Have a great evening, Mr. Price." Shutting the door behind her, Myrtle practically ran towards the servants' corridor, not wanting anyone to see the tears running down her face.

Feeling his lips twitch, Winston could feel Lovejoy watching him, snapping his eyes towards the man, "Get me in contact with who ever is in charge of this place, NOW!" There was no way he would allow some bitch to deny him anything. Leaning back, his anger stewing with each passing moment, how dare she, does she think that she was too good for him? No woman ever denied him, but some fucking maid had the nerve to think that she was afforded the same rights as her betters. Crossing his leg, Winston slowly sipped on his whiskey, his mind running through a few different scenarios that would give him the most pleasure, smiling when a good one popped into his head.

"Yes sir, right away sir." Making his way out of the suite, Edmund found the young Egyptian boy bringing his supper, "You would do well not to linger too long, Mr. Price is not in the mood. Is that understood, boy?" Not that he cared about what happened to the young man, honestly, he was just grateful that Mr. Price was focused on someone else or a change.

Abbas could feel the sweat slowly dripping down his neck, he had never been more frustrated in his life, but this was coming from Mr. Lotfallah so his hands were tied. Lifting his hand towards her little apartment door, he could feel his heart breaking for what was about to happen. With a heavy heart he finally had the courage to knock on her door, almost crying at the sight of her holding the door open. "Ms. Davies, can I come in?"

Myrtle covered herself as best she could, her eyes turning towards the little bed that Dalia was sleeping on, stepping aside to let Mr. Salah enter her little room. "Mr. Salah, what are you doing here so early?" she asked, doing what she could to keep her voice down.

Looking into her dark blue eyes, Abbas figured that the best thing to do was get right to the point. Letting out a deep sigh, "Ms. Davies, I'm sorry to have to do this, but after a complaint from Mr. Price, Mr. Lotfallah refused to lose his business and you have been let go."

Placing her hand over her chest, Myrtle could barely breathe, "Abbas, you can't be serious, he propositioned me, and I respectfully turned him down. Now I'm being punished. Please, what about Dalia, I won't have any money to feed her, please, there must be something that you can do." She said, practically begging the man.

"I'm sorry, Myrtle, but there is nothing I can do. I tried to convince Mr. Lotfallah that it must have been a misunderstanding on Mr. Price's part, but he claims that you attempted to seduce him." Seeing her face, he couldn't help but feel embarrassed, "I do not believe such things, I argued to the best of my abilities without risking my job, but Mr. Lotfallah was not convinced. I'm sorry."

Myrtle could feel her heart was breaking, stepping back, she could barely breathe, "What am I to do? Where are we supposed to go?" she asked him, but mostly she was talking to herself.

Abbas placed a hand on her shoulder, "I can keep you hidden here for a few days, but after that, you will need to go." Taking a few steps back hating himself for not being able to give her more, "I'm sorry, Myrtle truly." Placing some of his tip money on the little table by the door, it wasn't much, but perhaps it would keep them fed for a little while. Turning on his heels, Abbas made his way back towards the lobby, knowing that now he was down a head maid, he would need to oversee their daily chores until a suitable replacement could be found.

Shutting the door behind him, Myrtle laid her head against the door fighting the urge to cry, but she was failing miserably.

"Mama? Why are you sad?"

Closing her eyes, she quickly wiped her face and turned towards her baby girl, her heart breaking as she looked into her ice blue eyes seeing nothing but trust in them. Exhaling slowly, Myrtle didn't want to upset her so early, so for now she pulled her into a hug and prayed that she would have another job in a few days.

END FLASHBACK

Blinking away another wave of tears, Myrtle knew that it was only a matter of time before starvation took her from this world and it wasn't dying that scared her, it was leaving Dalia to be left alone. The moment she hit the street she attempted to get as much money as she could, her goal was to try and get them back to England, but every time she had a little extra money, but Dalia needed to eat and her eating every day meant so much more to her than anything else.

Watching the sunrise over the Nile, Myrtle smiled at its beauty, even with everything going wrong it was still a beautiful sight. Using her body to block the sun from hitting Dalia's face, hoping to give her a little while longer before they got up to beg at the market. Gently petting her blonde hair, she couldn't help but feel a little sad, her now 5-year-old was living in the streets, never once complaining about it, and even tried to cheer her up. Dalia was the only thing that kept her believing that there was a God, because only an angel could be so caring.

Keeping in step with her husband, Zahra watched as the people of the market attempted to bring attention to their goods, yelling and screaming, even stepping out in front of them to hold up another useless item. Sighing, this was not how the people of the Medjai tribes behaved, but perhaps that is what made them special, not only in their behavior but protecting the world from the evil. Placing her hand on his shoulder, Zahra wanted to leave and head back to the desert, but she knew that her husband had business here.

"Husband, are you heading towards the museum soon?" She asked him. Hoping that he concluded his business with Terrence Bey as quickly as possible.

Abasi could see the distress on her face, he knew that she hated the city, but he would have hoped that getting away from the tribe for a few days would have brought her some happiness, but instead it only seemed to upset her further. "Yes, my love, I am heading that way now." He could see the sadness and the relief on her face, "I promise I will not take too long." Placing a few coins in her hand, Abasi made his way towards Terrence, hoping that for now Imotep was still sound asleep and never to be woken again.

Zahra followed him until he disappeared into the building, she knew that it was their tribe's duty to watch over the creature's tomb, but she prayed every day to Allah that the good doctor would send word through the tribes it was time for a new guard. Placing her coins in her pocket, she made her way deeper into the market, perhaps she would find something that she could take back to her nephews.

She wished deeply for children, but after many years of trying, their medicine man confirmed that she would never be able to have them. It was such a devastating blow to her as a wife, but Abasi stood strong with her, even when some of the elders of the tribe advised him that he could divorce her or even take on a second wife. She had always loved her husband deeply and for him to stand by her after all these years and never once considered leaving her. Blinking away a few tears that were threatening to fall, Zahra took a deep breath and made her way towards the sweet vendor, it had been a while since she'd had a chocolate.

Finding herself overlooking the river, Zahra could only smile at the beauty of it, while it was filled with various boats and even a few ships, it was still a sight to behold. Her mind was so engrossed at what was in front of her that it wasn't until she heard a child screaming for help that she even looked away. Turning her head, she found a tiny girl running up to strangers, begging for someone to help her mama, without even thinking about it, Zahra rushed over to the girl, hoping that she would be able to help her.

"Child, what is wrong?" she asked her, hoping that her calm voice would put the little girl at ease.

Dalia wrapped her arms around her waist, "Mama fell and she can't get up." She cried. "Please, help my mama." Hoping that she would be able to.

Rubbing her hair, frowning on how dirty she was, Zahra glanced around, her eyes finding a body lying in a doorway, pointing to it, "Is that your mama?" she asked her.

Nodding, Dalia took her hands and pulled her over, "MAMA!" she screamed as she ran towards her. Dropping to her knees Dalia found the woman kneeling next to her, "Please." Her lips quivering.

Myrtle could feel someone touching her forehead, doing what she could to open her eyes, finding an older woman looking at her. "Please, save my daughter, Dalia." She knew in her heart that her body was starting to give out, and perhaps if this kind stranger was here trying to help, she would take Dalia.

Zahra could see that she was nothing but skin and bones, there was nothing that she could do for the woman, glancing towards the little girl who was clinging to her, her ice blue eyes staring back at her, pleading. Turning back to the mother, "Her father?"

It was getting so hard for her to breathe, "Dead." Lifting her hand to hers, "Dalia, please, save her." Looking over at her baby girl, "I…. love…. You…" she whispered.

"Mama?"

Hearing her little voice calling out broke her heart, lightly petting the woman's brittle hair, "I swear, I will love her as though she is my own." Pausing for a moment, "What is your name?" she asked, wanting to make sure that little Dalia would know what her mama did for her.

"Myrtle Eugina Davies." she coughed out. Letting her eyes fall to her daughter, "Dalia Grace Davies, you listen to this woman, she will take care of you." Slowly moving her hand towards her cheeks, "I love you; I will always love you." She whispered. Closing her eyes, happy that the last thing that she saw was her beautiful little girl, as the blackness took her, she felt a sense of peace in knowing that Dalia would be loved.

Crying, Dalia wrapped her arms around her mama, "Please mama, wake up." She pleaded. But no matter how hard she shook or cried her mama wouldn't wake up. Feeling a hand on her shoulder, Dalia looked up from her mama finding the woman that came to help watching her, "I will be a good girl, please don't leave me too." Scared to be left alone in the world.

Zahra could feel tears running down her face, gently wiping them away, she pulled the little girl into her arms, "Do not worry, I will never leave you." Her heartbreaking for the little girl, but something inside of her soul was healing, perhaps Allah led them to each other to heal.

Entering their room for the night, Abasi was thrilled to hear that Ishaq Bay would be taking over watching the creatures tomb, and that he could finally rejoin his wife and travel through the desert with his tribe. His eyes searched for his wife, but as he looked over the room, he found her holding a little girl in her arms. "My love? What is this?" Not understanding why, she had a white child in her arms.

Zahra held her tightly, praying that her husband would allow her to keep her promise to Myrtle Davies. Not wanting to wake little Dalia, she let her eyes fall on her husband, almost pleading with him. "I was in the market; she was screaming for help." Closing her eyes as the memory of her cries filled her ears, blinking away the tears, Zahra found him watching her. "Her mother is gone, died in the streets and her last wish was to protect her child." Glancing down at her, a small smile spread across her face, "She loved her dearly, because while she was dirty, she was fed well enough, her mother did not eat. Please, Abasi, do not make me send her away."

Kneeling in front of his wife, Abasi could see her pleading with him to allow this, sighing, he let his eyes glance over the little girl, smiling as she watched her cling to his wife. It wasn't uncommon for the Medjai to adopt children, usually they were from Egypt, but there were no laws preventing him in taking her with them. Taking her in, he could see that his love washed her, fed her, and even dressed her, even if he was against this, he could see that Zahra wouldn't give her up without a fight.

Lifting his eyes towards his wife, her deep brown eyes filled with tears, he could not deny her a child, nor would he. "If this is what you want, I will always be with you." Touching the little girl's hair, "What is her name?"

It took all her self-control not to yell out for joy, but she refused to wake her little one, placing her hand on his, "Dalia, my love, her name is Dalia."

Chuckling a bit, Abasi stared down at his new daughter, "Dalia, such a beautiful name." Slowly moving to stand, Abasi made his way towards the washroom, while he knew that raising her would be a challenge because of how she looked, he could see that his wife was finally at peace and that was enough for him.

Across the desert, Ishaq looked down at his eldest son, who seemed to be watching his every move. "Ardeth, my son, have you completed your studies?" he asked him.

Sitting straighter in their family's tent, the young boy nodded, "I have father." Looking towards his mother, smiling as she prepared their dinner. "Can I go with you to Hamunaptra? I have been training hard father." He asked, desperate for his father to allow him to go with the other warriors.

Chuckling a bit, Ishaq knew that his son would make a fine leader of their tribe, but he was only 11, and as much as he wanted to bring his son, he wasn't ready. Placing his hand on his shoulder, he could see his son's excitement, "Soon my son, you will ride with me, but for now, you must study and train. You are the future of our tribe my boy, it is imperative that you are well versed in our history, a skilled fighter, and leader for our people. Do you understand?"

Frowning a bit, Ardeth wanted to argue with him, but he knew that his father was right, only a full trained Medjai warrior was allowed to know the location of the tomb. Feeling his father's hand on his shoulder, Ardeth gave him a small smile, "I do father. But when I am 16 and I have earned my tattoos, I will be able to join you, right?"

Ishaq was never prouder of his eldest, even before he was told of his duties as the future Tribe leader of their Sect of the Medjai, Ardeth was always trying to be one of the warriors, almost as though he was afraid that he would miss something. Turning towards his wife, who was bringing their food towards them, his eyes fell to his Ardeth's twin sister, frowning when he saw her reaching for his sword, "Naeema, you are a young lady, and ladies do not play with swords."

Groaning, Naeema made her way towards her eldest brother, tempted to slap the look of satisfaction off his face. Plopping down next to him, she shoved his shoulder, "You may be older than me by a few minutes, but you are not a better warrior than me." She snapped.

Rolling his eyes, Ardeth didn't understand why she wanted to learn how to fight like one of the great warriors of their tribe, "Naeema, you are a girl, not a warrior."

Pushing his shoulder, "I am more than just a girl, I am the daughter of a great chief, I can be a warrior too!" Turning to her father, seeing his eyes, pleading with him to understand that she was just as brave as her twin brother.

Ishaq could see this meant a lot to her, rubbing his beard, his eyes found his wife placing their food in front of them, "My dear, what do you think?" While he didn't need her permission to train his daughter, he always appreciated her input.

Taking her place next to her husband, Kamilah could see Naeema's excitement and Ardeth's apprehension, but deep down she wished that her father would have taught her how to properly defend herself. Touching his shoulder, Kamilah smiled at him, "I feel it would be in her best interest to learn how to fight." Hearing her daughter squeal, "Naeema, while I will allow your father to teach you, it is not so that you can go out unto the world and fight, it will only be so that you can protect yourself and your future children. Understood?"

Naeema couldn't stop smiling if she tried too, "Yea mama." Looking over at her father, "Thank you father." Turning her attention towards her brother, smirking at his face, "See I told you!"

Rolling his eyes, if this was what their father was going to allow, he would not dare to question him. "Naeema, if you are to do this, boasting is not wise." Crossing his legs, he turned towards his parents, but his eyes settling on his father, who was about to lead them into prayer over their food.

Looking over his family, Ishaq knew that Allah had blessed him deeply, with his son being a true born leader and his daughter had the heart of a great warrior. Taking ahold of their hands, Ishaq didn't know what the future held for their tribe, but with both of his children he knew that great things were in store.

- taqiyah- cap worn by Muslim men