Author's note: Just another small ficlet from me for one of my favorite ships. Not so introspective as my others, partly because it's set during TMR, not back during Imhotep and Anck and Nefertiri's time. Just a small plot bunny that formed when thinking of what to write for a friend for her birthday. Anyway, reviews are nice, criticism is fine, and that's about it.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not Imhotep, not Anck-su-namun/Meela, not Alex or Lock-nah. Nobody. They all belong to Stephen Sommers and Universal. No harm intended. Please do not sue me, you will not get very much. Savvy?
SAND IN THE WIND
Anck-su-namun smiled faintly as she watched her lover dress. She was fascinated at how the sun made his skin shimmer and by the ease that surrounded them. No fear, no rush, no lookouts standing and watching for Med-jai or Seti himself.
They were free now. Or at least, close to it. It was as good as theirs, Imhotep had promised her that. He had vowed to her they would soon be the ones in charge, that they would be free to do as they pleased without anyone to stop them.
"I thought you were asleep," he said softly when he saw she was watching him, coming to kneel beside her. He kissed her fiercely, passionately, awakening familiar flames and making them stir all over again. "I was trying not to wake you."
"It is all right," she assured him, her smile growing. "I was already waking before you moved away. Besides, it is relaxing, being here, taking my time for once." She lifted her hand, stroking his cheek. "Today, we reach the Oasis?"
Imhotep nodded. "Yes. And then I shall kill the Scorpion King, and you and I will never have to worry ever again," he reassured her. He kissed her once more before standing up, raising her to her feet as well. "You should dress. We must leave soon."
Anck-su-namun nodded, languidly slipping back into her clothes. It was odd, the feeling of clothing covering her entire body. She remembered wearing them this whole life, but it was almost another's memories inside her head. She knew that in this life, she had worn expensive clothes, seductive clothes, but always covering, always clinging to her figure. It was as if they were a security blanket, assuring her she did not suffer the same fate Seti had sentenced her to in the past.
She knew Imhotep was watching her, his stare intense and almost tangible. She finally looked up, meeting his eyes, motioning for him to come to her. She purred like a cat when he finished dressing her, closing her eyes, enjoying the sensation.
In this life, he would be the only one to see her, to see her body. He could take her, hold her, gaze at every inch of her skin whenever he pleased, but no other man. It was hers now, hers to give to whoever she chose.
"I have missed you, my love," he whispered, holding her tightly for a moment. "I was," he paused for a moment, painful memories making his body tense up, body wound tightly. "I was in something of a conscious state, my soul was, while trapped in my tomb."
He would have gone on, but Anck-su-namun lifted a hand up, fingers covering his mouth gently. "Hush. It is the past, it is gone. Think no more of that pain, of what once was," she told him. "Think of our future, of our new life together."
Imhotep nodded, smiling back at her. "As you wish it, my princess," he whispered, kissing her hungrily. "We will continue this, soon," he promised her. He sighed, reluctantly pulling away. They walked out of the tent, the morning sun high and blinding.
Anck-su-namun looked around at the Red Turbans, Imhotep's followers. She knew them, knew them closely, and yet, she had no idea who they were. It was like another person, truly, another life.
Lock-Nah, he was the most prominent, and had been close enough to Meela that even Anck-su-namun felt as though she did still know him herself. The curator, Hafez, or something like that, she knew him but he was a cretin, spineless and only serving to further himself in the sneakiest ways. There were others, but none stood out.
And Imhotep. He was different. They both were. Something had happened to them both the moment Seti discovered them, their forbidden affair. They were not what they once were, but was it for the better? There was something cold in Meela, and now in Anck-su-namun. She had never been warm, but since her first death, it had been there, passed down to Meela in memory.
Dark eyes looked to Imhotep, searching him. She suspected he had it to, though he might not feel it. They not quite human anymore.
There was a sound a faint bickering far off, Lock-Nah and the O'Connell boy. Nefertiri's boy. Arguing back at each other. The small child's voice high and annoyed, Lock-Nah's deep and equally annoyed.
Anck-su-namun looked over at the small boy, closer to his father in appearance than his mother. But he was still Nefertiri's boy. Nefertiri.
Smiling coldly, Anck-su-namun followed Imhotep, striding confidently to their camels, preparing to begin the last day of their journey to Ahm Shere. Perhaps something had changed, but had it not been worth it?
They were alive now, alive and powerful, her lover now close to the final victory. They would avenge their own deaths and sufferings, and Nefertiri's child would be the first to pay. His suffering would make her pay.
Imhotep glanced at her, smiling back. His gaze melted some of the ice she felt, but only him. She knew he felt the same. This time, their lives, their victory, their pleasure was all that mattered. They were everything to each other, and everything else was simply sand in the wind.