Author's Note: So what am I doing here? Well, like I said on my profile, I'm holding off on updating The Lady and the Tramp and Thirty Pieces of Silver until I have revised Tramps and Thieves. And, technically, I should be working on my challenge fic for the Fireplace. So, yes, that's actually two things I should be doing instead of this, but I really just had to start this lovely venture. As you probably don't know, Othello is my all-time favorite Shakespearean play, and I couldn't help thinking that (with a little nudging) it could be fit into the 1920's, with The Mummy characters.

Important Notes: This story is AU, with loose basings on historical occurances. It's also an adaptation. To me, an adaptation means that the traits of the original characters stay true to who they are IN THE FILM, but their roles adapt to serve the appropriate ends of THE PLAY.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from the 1999 Universal Pictures film, The Mummy. The character of Delphine Bertrand is my own.

AND LOVE THEE AFTER

kisses for my pains.

The kindling in the fire cracked and popped in quiet comfort, the cool Egyptian wind brushed off by hot flames. The burnished light lapped against the thick, red Berber rug spread out over the grass and sand, flickering against the pale, shapely legs of a young woman. The flames played uncertainly over the dark, bared chest of the man beside her, splashing moments of light against his black tattoos and discolored scars before hiding them in shadow again. His voice filled the quiet of the night with low whispers, his teeth flashing in a smile every time her eyes widened in emtion. She listened to him with her breath held, fingers tracing anxiously over the long, straight scar that cut across his muscled abdomen.

"It was a bad time, Delphine. We could not tell what to do--who to trust. As an Egyptian, I wanted to stand with my countrymen and fight the British rule. But as a Med-Jai, I could not refuse their offer. Hamunaptra remains secured still, untouched by grave robbers and thieves. It may be the only time the British have kept their word to an Egyptian man."

Delphine glanced down, feeling the uneven ridges of the scar beneath her fingertips. She smiled, something weakly clever flashing in her deep blue eyes. She spoke cautiously and primly in Arabic, her French accent mangling some words in a way that he had grown familiar with. "As if they could refuse you, the great Ardeth Bay."

A sad smile tugged on his lips. "Some days...I worry I have betrayed my people by allying with the British. Perhaps if the Med-Jai had sided with the Egyptians..."

His voice faded into the crackling of the fire and the soft howl of the wind. Ardeth shook his head. He reached down and grasped her hand suddenly, lifting her knuckles to his lips. She met his dark gaze quietly for a moment, and then rest her head against his chest.

"Do you regret accepting Lord Carnahan's proposal?" she asked plaintively. He shook his head, the rough, black hairs of his beard brushing against her forehead. She looked up.

"Never," he whispered firmly, his eyes burning and honest. "How else would I have found you?"

Delphine tilted her head, waiting for his lips. He kissed her lightly, watching her patiently until she opened her eyes to gaze at him again. His lips quivered with the want to speak, but she silenced him with a deeper embrace, gently pulling him down with her as she settled on the rug. Her long, dark hair spread about her face in a halo of unraveling, silky waves, and her bright eyes asked of him what she was yet too shy to speak. Ardeth smiled at her, covering her body with his own. She planted sweet, quick kisses along his neck, feeling the hum of his voice beneath her lips.

"You know I love you very much, Delphine."

She paused, twisting her head to look up at him. She couldn't help the joyful smile that lit her face.

"I love you, too, Ardeth--since the first day you visited my uncle. When you told of fighting the Tuaregs, and the Legionnaires joined you--I loved you. Do you remember?"

He chuckled, nodding his head. She tilted her head to the side, watching him curiously.

"When did you know that you loved me?"

Ardeth pressed a kiss to her forehead, frowning in thought. She waited patiently, her eyes tracing the handsome contours of his face as he stared out into the desert night, thinking. The time passed with growing anxiety for Delphine; she began to worry that he would tell her that he simply didn't remember. She reached her long, white fingers up to his face, tracing the black marking on his cheek. She opened her mouth to tell him not to bother about when--that as long as he loved her now, she would be satisfied. But his voice carried steadily to her as he turned to look her in the eye again.

"It was that same night...when I was telling about the sword fight with Loch-Nah, and I described...I guess I described too vividly the way he slashed me, because I remember the look in your cousin's eyes. She was terrified of me, so I started to appologize...and then I looked at you. You have never feared me."

Delphine shook her head, pulling his lips down to meet hers again. But he broke off the embrace rather suddenly, his dark eyes aflame with something urgent. He stared into her eyes steadily, his mouth trembling for the right words. She caressed the side of his face with her hand, trying to soothe his agitation.

"What is it, Ardeth?"

"Never fear me," he whispered finally, his eyes still frantic with something not quite unknown.

"I don't--"

"Please," he interceded with growing persistence. "I have done things, Delphine. Awful things. I have killed men and left their wives and children as widows and orphans, and I'm not proud. I've done what had to be done, to restore peace and order. And perhaps I am a cursed man...because I've always done well..."

Ardeth swallowed difficultly, closing his eyes for a moment. Her fingers strayed to his hair, tangling in the black curls. He rest his head against her chest, allowing her touch to quiet the tension in his shoulders.

"You are a brave man," she told him fiercely. "And you know what you've done is good. There will always be war, my love. And because of you, many more men are still fathers and husbands today."

He lifted himself up on his elbows, enveloping her mouth in a deep kiss. She moaned softly, her fingers tightening on his shoulder. His lips strayed reluctantly from hers, trailing down her neck. She opened her eyes, watching the firelight play against the muscles of his back, turning his skin to a deep bronze. She sighed in ectasy.

"You're the only man I've ever loved."

He lifted his head to gaze into her eyes again. "I'll love you forever, until the end of eternity."

She kissed him again, and they made love in the dying heat of a desert campfire: an Arabic man and his French bride.

So, what do you think? I'll admit, this first chapter is hopelessly fluffy; but as I generally hate fluff, it will be well-balanced with other things. Whatever you're thinking--please, let me know!