The Might of His Strength, chapter 4
May. 12th, 2020 08:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
scripsiAnd I've managed to write a little
Title: The Might of His Strength
Fandom: The Mummy series
Rating: Explicit
Chapters: 4/?
Word Count: 1490
Characters: Evelyn Carnahan O’Connell, Imhotep, Ardeth Bay, Rick O’Connell
Pairings Evelyn Carnahan O’Connell/ Imhotep, Evelyn Carnahan O’Connell/Imhotep/Ardeth Bay, Evelyn Carnahan O’Connell/ Rick O’Connell
Warnings: abduction, non-con, violence- tags are likely to be expanded as the fic continues.
Summary: Five years after Imhotep’s second defeat, Evy is kidnapped.
The fic on AO3.
Evy’s new prison was far more luxurious than her previous one. It was an apartment consisting of several spacious rooms opening out to a small walled garden. Evy sat down on a sofa, suddenly exhausted. For a moment her longing for her family threatened to overcome her, but she pushed it away. She wanted so badly to be with them, but to succumb to her feelings would not help her now. Better to focus on how to get back to them than spend futile time wallowing in her misery. She watched a flurry of servants packing away clothes and trinkets and she realised these were the rooms meant for Meela, and now they were hastily prepared for another occupant. A meal was served which she listlessly picked at, then the stream of servants trickled away, and she was left alone.
The first thing Evy did was to explore the garden to see if it could offer a way to escape. But the walls were far too high to climb, and the only way out, apart from through her rooms, was a small door for the gardeners to pass through. Evy tried the handle with little hope and found it, without surprise, locked. But she remained in the garden; it was a relief to be outside after so many days locked inside tiny rooms. The trees and flowers soothed her frazzled nerves, and Evy sat down on a bench. A servant emerged, bringing her strong sweet coffee, and the taste of sugary bitterness brought back some of her spirit.
The last hours had been filled with fear and death, Imhotep hadn’t been resurrected for more than a few hours and five people were already dead. Six with Meela. Try as she might, Evy could not feel very sorry for Mr. Smith, but though she had no warm feelings for Meela, the way she had been brought back only to be killed had been horrible. And then there were the nameless men who had died in fear and panic, undeserving of their fate. But, despite everything, Evy herself was still alive. And somewhere in the palace, Ardeth was still breathing too, though why Imhotep had been willing to spare his life she didn’t understand. Even if their situation was still bleak, it was not beyond hope.
Evy sat in the garden for hours, watching the sky above her darken into the early evening. It was beautiful, but she still felt something was wrong with it, even though she could not understand why. No one disturbed her until a slight noise made her look toward the now well-lit rooms and saw the silhouette of Imhotep standing in the doorway. Evie rose and went to him. She would not run around the garden like a trapped mouse until she was caught and dragged back; better to meet what he had planned for her with dignity.
Imhotep waited until she had reached him before he greeted her. “Princess.”
“I’m not a princess.” And then, because she was suddenly unsure he had ever bothered to learn it, she added. “My name is Evelyn.”
“Evelyn,” he repeated. “It’s a strange name, but it makes you no less a princess. It’s your birthright.”
Imhotep took her right hand and turned it so the blue veins on the underside of the wrist became visible. He traced them with a finger. “It’s running in your blood; from daughter to daughter in an unbroken line from Nefertiri, to you. I can feel it. You were always meant for me.”
“Why do you bother with lies? You didn’t love me then; you don’t love me now.”
“It’s true I never loved you, but you were the Pharaoh’s daughter. Once I would have married you and the throne of Egypt would have been mine. Your beauty and brightness made you a fair price, then as now. And you freed me from an eternity of torment, and for that, I owe you a debt of gratitude.”
“And what would Anck Su Namun have said about such plans?”
His face darkened at the mention of her name. “She knew. Our thoughts and desires were always the same.“
“I see.” Despite her situation, Evy couldn’t help a note of sarcasm creeping into her voice. “I should have guessed it at once that it was admiration which made you try to kill me over and over again.”
“You don’t understand. I never wanted your death; I needed it. You were the only woman who could have brought Anck Su Namun back to me because your death would have grieved me. A sacrifice without meaning is not a sacrifice. To please the gods, you have to give up what you can’t bear to part with. You have to offer as much as you wish to receive.”
Evy wanted to disbelieve him, but somehow she felt Imhotep was speaking the truth. She had, despite everything he had tried to do to her, felt no real animosity from him. And his interest in her would explain Anck Su Namun’s hatred toward Nefertiti, and, in present days, Meela’s against her. You didn’t have to love a person to value them. There could be gratitude, as he had just said, admiration and lust. Yes, she was sure there had always been desire, and that would surely have made Anck Su Namun jealous.
Evy suddenly realised he was still holding her hand and tried to snatch it back, but Imhotep didn’t let go.
“My words displease you, Princess. But you have always belonged to me, and mine you will remain.”
“No! When Rick comes-”
“He will die. And then you will learn what I have learned; love only brings you pain.”
“No,” Evy said again, but Imhotep only smiled. Still holding her hand, he led her into the room and to a small table where a short sharp knife had been placed beside a small bracelet. It was a slender armlet; a plain ring of polished grey stone. But it was old, Evy knew by sight, as old as Imhotep, or even thousands of years older. Simple and unassuming at first glance, but if one considered how primitive the tools had been to perfect this smooth circle of flint, then it wasn’t so simple anymore.
Imhotep said something in a soft voice; some kind of incantation, Evy didn’t understand. Then, before she had time to react, he took the knife and cut one of her fingertips. A drop of blood fell on the armlet, glistening on the surface for a moment, but then it disappeared as if the stone had absorbed it. Imhotep spoke again, this time cutting his own finger and as before the blood disappeared as if it had never been there. He picked up the armlet, taking Evy’s hand again and slipped it on. Full of misgivings, she tried to twist away, despite the strength of his grip, but to no avail. Imhotep said a few more words, closing his hand around her wrist, completely engulfing the armlet. It suddenly felt hot against Evy’s skin, the heat spreading through her body like a wave, and then it was gone. Imhotep let go of her and Evy immediately tried to remove the bracelet. But despite how easily it had slipped on, it was now impossible to take off.
“What did you do?”
“Bound you to me. This will never leave your arm if I don’t permit it. And as long as you wear it, my fate is also yours. If I die, so do you. When your warrior comes, he cannot fight me. He loves you too much, and his love makes him weak.”
He touched her cheek, and Evy looked up at him. “And when you try to run away, which you will, know this link I have forged between us will always lead me to you.”
“Shackling me with spells doesn’t make me your property.”
“You will never be a slave. You are a treasure beyond compare.”
“If you think you can flatter me, you are wrong. You disgust me.”
Imhotep stood closer to her now, towering above her. His perfume whirled around her, a scent filled with spice and resins. Evy had felt the faint echoes like it before in the remains of ancient balms found in tombs. Those faint traces had been like forgotten dreams; a tantalizing glimpse of a lost world. But here it was filled with vitality and sensuousness, sidestepping Evy’s fear and revulsion and making her breathless with a flash of yearning as unexpected as it was unwelcome. She gasped and turned away, but Imhotep’s arms were around her now; a hand in her hair forced her face up to his.
He had kissed her before; a nightmarish kiss with his lips rotting against her mouth. She had kissed him before in a desperate attempt to stop him. This kiss was different, his lips warm and firm against hers and overwhelmed Evy answered it.
Title: The Might of His Strength
Fandom: The Mummy series
Rating: Explicit
Chapters: 4/?
Word Count: 1490
Characters: Evelyn Carnahan O’Connell, Imhotep, Ardeth Bay, Rick O’Connell
Pairings Evelyn Carnahan O’Connell/ Imhotep, Evelyn Carnahan O’Connell/Imhotep/Ardeth Bay, Evelyn Carnahan O’Connell/ Rick O’Connell
Warnings: abduction, non-con, violence- tags are likely to be expanded as the fic continues.
Summary: Five years after Imhotep’s second defeat, Evy is kidnapped.
The fic on AO3.
Evy’s new prison was far more luxurious than her previous one. It was an apartment consisting of several spacious rooms opening out to a small walled garden. Evy sat down on a sofa, suddenly exhausted. For a moment her longing for her family threatened to overcome her, but she pushed it away. She wanted so badly to be with them, but to succumb to her feelings would not help her now. Better to focus on how to get back to them than spend futile time wallowing in her misery. She watched a flurry of servants packing away clothes and trinkets and she realised these were the rooms meant for Meela, and now they were hastily prepared for another occupant. A meal was served which she listlessly picked at, then the stream of servants trickled away, and she was left alone.
The first thing Evy did was to explore the garden to see if it could offer a way to escape. But the walls were far too high to climb, and the only way out, apart from through her rooms, was a small door for the gardeners to pass through. Evy tried the handle with little hope and found it, without surprise, locked. But she remained in the garden; it was a relief to be outside after so many days locked inside tiny rooms. The trees and flowers soothed her frazzled nerves, and Evy sat down on a bench. A servant emerged, bringing her strong sweet coffee, and the taste of sugary bitterness brought back some of her spirit.
The last hours had been filled with fear and death, Imhotep hadn’t been resurrected for more than a few hours and five people were already dead. Six with Meela. Try as she might, Evy could not feel very sorry for Mr. Smith, but though she had no warm feelings for Meela, the way she had been brought back only to be killed had been horrible. And then there were the nameless men who had died in fear and panic, undeserving of their fate. But, despite everything, Evy herself was still alive. And somewhere in the palace, Ardeth was still breathing too, though why Imhotep had been willing to spare his life she didn’t understand. Even if their situation was still bleak, it was not beyond hope.
Evy sat in the garden for hours, watching the sky above her darken into the early evening. It was beautiful, but she still felt something was wrong with it, even though she could not understand why. No one disturbed her until a slight noise made her look toward the now well-lit rooms and saw the silhouette of Imhotep standing in the doorway. Evie rose and went to him. She would not run around the garden like a trapped mouse until she was caught and dragged back; better to meet what he had planned for her with dignity.
Imhotep waited until she had reached him before he greeted her. “Princess.”
“I’m not a princess.” And then, because she was suddenly unsure he had ever bothered to learn it, she added. “My name is Evelyn.”
“Evelyn,” he repeated. “It’s a strange name, but it makes you no less a princess. It’s your birthright.”
Imhotep took her right hand and turned it so the blue veins on the underside of the wrist became visible. He traced them with a finger. “It’s running in your blood; from daughter to daughter in an unbroken line from Nefertiri, to you. I can feel it. You were always meant for me.”
“Why do you bother with lies? You didn’t love me then; you don’t love me now.”
“It’s true I never loved you, but you were the Pharaoh’s daughter. Once I would have married you and the throne of Egypt would have been mine. Your beauty and brightness made you a fair price, then as now. And you freed me from an eternity of torment, and for that, I owe you a debt of gratitude.”
“And what would Anck Su Namun have said about such plans?”
His face darkened at the mention of her name. “She knew. Our thoughts and desires were always the same.“
“I see.” Despite her situation, Evy couldn’t help a note of sarcasm creeping into her voice. “I should have guessed it at once that it was admiration which made you try to kill me over and over again.”
“You don’t understand. I never wanted your death; I needed it. You were the only woman who could have brought Anck Su Namun back to me because your death would have grieved me. A sacrifice without meaning is not a sacrifice. To please the gods, you have to give up what you can’t bear to part with. You have to offer as much as you wish to receive.”
Evy wanted to disbelieve him, but somehow she felt Imhotep was speaking the truth. She had, despite everything he had tried to do to her, felt no real animosity from him. And his interest in her would explain Anck Su Namun’s hatred toward Nefertiti, and, in present days, Meela’s against her. You didn’t have to love a person to value them. There could be gratitude, as he had just said, admiration and lust. Yes, she was sure there had always been desire, and that would surely have made Anck Su Namun jealous.
Evy suddenly realised he was still holding her hand and tried to snatch it back, but Imhotep didn’t let go.
“My words displease you, Princess. But you have always belonged to me, and mine you will remain.”
“No! When Rick comes-”
“He will die. And then you will learn what I have learned; love only brings you pain.”
“No,” Evy said again, but Imhotep only smiled. Still holding her hand, he led her into the room and to a small table where a short sharp knife had been placed beside a small bracelet. It was a slender armlet; a plain ring of polished grey stone. But it was old, Evy knew by sight, as old as Imhotep, or even thousands of years older. Simple and unassuming at first glance, but if one considered how primitive the tools had been to perfect this smooth circle of flint, then it wasn’t so simple anymore.
Imhotep said something in a soft voice; some kind of incantation, Evy didn’t understand. Then, before she had time to react, he took the knife and cut one of her fingertips. A drop of blood fell on the armlet, glistening on the surface for a moment, but then it disappeared as if the stone had absorbed it. Imhotep spoke again, this time cutting his own finger and as before the blood disappeared as if it had never been there. He picked up the armlet, taking Evy’s hand again and slipped it on. Full of misgivings, she tried to twist away, despite the strength of his grip, but to no avail. Imhotep said a few more words, closing his hand around her wrist, completely engulfing the armlet. It suddenly felt hot against Evy’s skin, the heat spreading through her body like a wave, and then it was gone. Imhotep let go of her and Evy immediately tried to remove the bracelet. But despite how easily it had slipped on, it was now impossible to take off.
“What did you do?”
“Bound you to me. This will never leave your arm if I don’t permit it. And as long as you wear it, my fate is also yours. If I die, so do you. When your warrior comes, he cannot fight me. He loves you too much, and his love makes him weak.”
He touched her cheek, and Evy looked up at him. “And when you try to run away, which you will, know this link I have forged between us will always lead me to you.”
“Shackling me with spells doesn’t make me your property.”
“You will never be a slave. You are a treasure beyond compare.”
“If you think you can flatter me, you are wrong. You disgust me.”
Imhotep stood closer to her now, towering above her. His perfume whirled around her, a scent filled with spice and resins. Evy had felt the faint echoes like it before in the remains of ancient balms found in tombs. Those faint traces had been like forgotten dreams; a tantalizing glimpse of a lost world. But here it was filled with vitality and sensuousness, sidestepping Evy’s fear and revulsion and making her breathless with a flash of yearning as unexpected as it was unwelcome. She gasped and turned away, but Imhotep’s arms were around her now; a hand in her hair forced her face up to his.
He had kissed her before; a nightmarish kiss with his lips rotting against her mouth. She had kissed him before in a desperate attempt to stop him. This kiss was different, his lips warm and firm against hers and overwhelmed Evy answered it.
