The Might of His Strength, chapter 7
Jul. 11th, 2020 06:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
scripsiTitle: The Might of His Strength
Fandom: The Mummy series
Rating: Explicit
Chapters: 7/?
Word Count: 1329
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, magical coercion- 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.
To Evy’s surprise, she saw nothing of Imhotep for the next two days. On the third, an entire crowd of silent servant girls appeared and Evy found herself the focus of an elaborate beauty preparation. It was no use asking why the thralldom Imhotep had put the servants in, making them instantly ready to obey anything Evy asked of them, but it was impossible to have a proper conversation with them.
So she allowed herself to be bathed and then dressed. The gown was white like the one Mr. Smith had made her wear, but this one was made of pleated linen, so gossamer-thin it was almost transparent. She recognised the style; she had seen it often enough on the walls of temples and tombs. They painted her eyes with kohl and green malachite powder and her lips and cheeks stained with red. Then perfumed oils were worked into her hair, which was left to flow down her back in heavy waves. And last, there was a heavily beaded collar around her neck, and rings and bracelet for her hands and arms.
But even if Evy didn’t protest, she wondered over the reason for this sudden concern in how she looked. She had been given plenty of beautiful clothes, but they had all been modern, and Imhotep had so far never seemed interested in what she wore. Now the mirror reflected not herself, but the image of a woman long dead, and she wondered why Imhotep, tonight of all nights, wanted her to look like Nefertiri.
When the servants had finished primping her, they brought Evy to the chamber where Mr. Smith had resurrected Imhotep, but she barely recognised it. It was still decorated in the manner of ancient Egypt, but all the kitsch and historical fallacies had been removed. The decorations were simpler, but the result achingly beautiful. But though it was now clearly a temple, there were no statues of any deities, though an altar had been placed at one end of the room. In front of it, Imhotep was standing, and as Evy came closer, she saw he was occupied with the content of various bowls and vials. In the middle stood the cup he had collected at the temple of Seshat. A goblet, really; now when Evy had time to look at it properly, she saw it was made of alabaster, the cup delicately carved into a lotus flower. The brim and foot were decorated with a narrow band of gold, and she could also see hieroglyphs winding around the cup, even if she could not make out what they said. It was a beautiful thing, but Evy frowned anyway. It must have some kind of meaning, but she did not understand what. She watched as Imhotep poured wine into it, then he turned to her and smiled.
“You look exquisite tonight, Princess. Like the sun rising.”
Evy ignored the compliment. “What is the meaning of the goblet? Why did you need it?”
“The goblet will strengthen the essence of anything you drink from it.”
“And what does this wine do?”
“You will find out soon enough.”
Before Evy could speak again, the door opened and revealed two guards, and between them; Ardeth. Her first reaction was intense joy in seeing him again, but the joy was tempered when she took in the state of him. Not because he looked particularly mistreated, even if his hands were tied in front of him. He had not been allowed a razor, so his neat beard had almost disappeared in stubble, but his hair and clothes were clean. Most of his many layers of clothing had been removed, and he was only clad in a shirt and black linen pants, which made him seem oddly vulnerable. His feet were bare and around an ankle, Evy spotted the red chafing marks of a manacle. She felt a surge of anger; to be locked in and chained must be akin to torture for a man who lived most of his life in the open air.
But though there were dark shadows under Ardeth’s eyes, his stance was defiant. He was not broken and when their eyes met, she could see the same questions in his gaze as she knew her’s asked; “How have you been treated? Are you holding up?”
Imhotep approached Ardeth, but it was Evy he spoke to. “We have had many conversations, your Medjai and I. He will not break his oath and serve me, and I have grown tired of his reluctance.”
He touched Ardeth’s forehead. “You wear my name on your face. You should be my servant, not my enemy.”
“It will never happen!”
“You are wrong. You will serve me, and despite your resistance, I will reward you with what you yearn for the most.”
Ardeth’s eyes flickered to Evy’s face, then back to Imhotep’s. “You know nothing of my desires.”
“I know everything. I know of the loneliness you feel and how it wakes you up at night. How you turn in bed, but the warm body you felt in your dreams is not there, and your arms are empty. And you lay there in the darkness and wonder why she chose him. Are you not a warrior as good as, or even better, than him? Don’t you have the same courage and have you not strived to be a virtuous man all your life? Are you not a man worthy of her?”
Imhotep turned his head and looked at Evy. His words made her feel like she was choking and she wanted to scream at him to be silent; she didn’t want to hear more. The day before she had pitied him, now she felt a surge of hatred. He nodded at her, a small malicious smile on his lips, and she knew he understood what she felt, but he wouldn’t stop. He turned to Ardeth once again.
“And in your darkest hour, you think of what would happen if he died. Men die so easily, after all. You could have her then. She belongs here, to this country which is yours and mine, but he is a stranger. All this you think when your solitude becomes too hard to bear.”
Ardeth’s jaws clenched and his voice was strained. “Who Evy loves was always her choice, and her choice alone.”
“But she has no choices anymore and I will share her with you.”
Ardeth stood straighter. “I do not accept.”
“Oh Medjai, you have no choices left either. My will is your law now.”
Imhotep turned his back to Ardeth and walked back to the altar. As he passed Evy, his smile widened. “You should thank me, my Princess. You have felt lust for this man; now you can enjoy him.
Evy couldn’t help herself, she tried to punch him, but Imhotep easily evaded it. He lifted the goblet and spoke a few words before he drank deeply from it. Then he sprinkled powder from one of the jars into it and held it out to her.
“Drink.”
Evy shook her head and took a step back. His hand shot out too quickly and grasped her throat. It hurt and Evy tried to pry his hand away but to no avail.
“You will drink, willingly or not.”
His grip hardened and eventually, Evy drank. The wine tasted not unpleasantly of spices and it warmed her throat and belly. Imhotep released her, and she stumbled away from him. The warmth inside her seemed to linger; growing instead of fading away.
Imhotep now presented the cup to Ardeth, commanding him to drink as well. When Ardeth refused, the guards forced him down on his knees, Imhotep bending down over him. Evy looked away; she knew Ardeth’s struggle would be in vain and she didn’t want to see it. The heat inside her grew even stronger, and she suddenly had a horrible suspicion of the true nature of the wine in the goblet.
Fandom: The Mummy series
Rating: Explicit
Chapters: 7/?
Word Count: 1329
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, magical coercion- 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.
To Evy’s surprise, she saw nothing of Imhotep for the next two days. On the third, an entire crowd of silent servant girls appeared and Evy found herself the focus of an elaborate beauty preparation. It was no use asking why the thralldom Imhotep had put the servants in, making them instantly ready to obey anything Evy asked of them, but it was impossible to have a proper conversation with them.
So she allowed herself to be bathed and then dressed. The gown was white like the one Mr. Smith had made her wear, but this one was made of pleated linen, so gossamer-thin it was almost transparent. She recognised the style; she had seen it often enough on the walls of temples and tombs. They painted her eyes with kohl and green malachite powder and her lips and cheeks stained with red. Then perfumed oils were worked into her hair, which was left to flow down her back in heavy waves. And last, there was a heavily beaded collar around her neck, and rings and bracelet for her hands and arms.
But even if Evy didn’t protest, she wondered over the reason for this sudden concern in how she looked. She had been given plenty of beautiful clothes, but they had all been modern, and Imhotep had so far never seemed interested in what she wore. Now the mirror reflected not herself, but the image of a woman long dead, and she wondered why Imhotep, tonight of all nights, wanted her to look like Nefertiri.
When the servants had finished primping her, they brought Evy to the chamber where Mr. Smith had resurrected Imhotep, but she barely recognised it. It was still decorated in the manner of ancient Egypt, but all the kitsch and historical fallacies had been removed. The decorations were simpler, but the result achingly beautiful. But though it was now clearly a temple, there were no statues of any deities, though an altar had been placed at one end of the room. In front of it, Imhotep was standing, and as Evy came closer, she saw he was occupied with the content of various bowls and vials. In the middle stood the cup he had collected at the temple of Seshat. A goblet, really; now when Evy had time to look at it properly, she saw it was made of alabaster, the cup delicately carved into a lotus flower. The brim and foot were decorated with a narrow band of gold, and she could also see hieroglyphs winding around the cup, even if she could not make out what they said. It was a beautiful thing, but Evy frowned anyway. It must have some kind of meaning, but she did not understand what. She watched as Imhotep poured wine into it, then he turned to her and smiled.
“You look exquisite tonight, Princess. Like the sun rising.”
Evy ignored the compliment. “What is the meaning of the goblet? Why did you need it?”
“The goblet will strengthen the essence of anything you drink from it.”
“And what does this wine do?”
“You will find out soon enough.”
Before Evy could speak again, the door opened and revealed two guards, and between them; Ardeth. Her first reaction was intense joy in seeing him again, but the joy was tempered when she took in the state of him. Not because he looked particularly mistreated, even if his hands were tied in front of him. He had not been allowed a razor, so his neat beard had almost disappeared in stubble, but his hair and clothes were clean. Most of his many layers of clothing had been removed, and he was only clad in a shirt and black linen pants, which made him seem oddly vulnerable. His feet were bare and around an ankle, Evy spotted the red chafing marks of a manacle. She felt a surge of anger; to be locked in and chained must be akin to torture for a man who lived most of his life in the open air.
But though there were dark shadows under Ardeth’s eyes, his stance was defiant. He was not broken and when their eyes met, she could see the same questions in his gaze as she knew her’s asked; “How have you been treated? Are you holding up?”
Imhotep approached Ardeth, but it was Evy he spoke to. “We have had many conversations, your Medjai and I. He will not break his oath and serve me, and I have grown tired of his reluctance.”
He touched Ardeth’s forehead. “You wear my name on your face. You should be my servant, not my enemy.”
“It will never happen!”
“You are wrong. You will serve me, and despite your resistance, I will reward you with what you yearn for the most.”
Ardeth’s eyes flickered to Evy’s face, then back to Imhotep’s. “You know nothing of my desires.”
“I know everything. I know of the loneliness you feel and how it wakes you up at night. How you turn in bed, but the warm body you felt in your dreams is not there, and your arms are empty. And you lay there in the darkness and wonder why she chose him. Are you not a warrior as good as, or even better, than him? Don’t you have the same courage and have you not strived to be a virtuous man all your life? Are you not a man worthy of her?”
Imhotep turned his head and looked at Evy. His words made her feel like she was choking and she wanted to scream at him to be silent; she didn’t want to hear more. The day before she had pitied him, now she felt a surge of hatred. He nodded at her, a small malicious smile on his lips, and she knew he understood what she felt, but he wouldn’t stop. He turned to Ardeth once again.
“And in your darkest hour, you think of what would happen if he died. Men die so easily, after all. You could have her then. She belongs here, to this country which is yours and mine, but he is a stranger. All this you think when your solitude becomes too hard to bear.”
Ardeth’s jaws clenched and his voice was strained. “Who Evy loves was always her choice, and her choice alone.”
“But she has no choices anymore and I will share her with you.”
Ardeth stood straighter. “I do not accept.”
“Oh Medjai, you have no choices left either. My will is your law now.”
Imhotep turned his back to Ardeth and walked back to the altar. As he passed Evy, his smile widened. “You should thank me, my Princess. You have felt lust for this man; now you can enjoy him.
Evy couldn’t help herself, she tried to punch him, but Imhotep easily evaded it. He lifted the goblet and spoke a few words before he drank deeply from it. Then he sprinkled powder from one of the jars into it and held it out to her.
“Drink.”
Evy shook her head and took a step back. His hand shot out too quickly and grasped her throat. It hurt and Evy tried to pry his hand away but to no avail.
“You will drink, willingly or not.”
His grip hardened and eventually, Evy drank. The wine tasted not unpleasantly of spices and it warmed her throat and belly. Imhotep released her, and she stumbled away from him. The warmth inside her seemed to linger; growing instead of fading away.
Imhotep now presented the cup to Ardeth, commanding him to drink as well. When Ardeth refused, the guards forced him down on his knees, Imhotep bending down over him. Evy looked away; she knew Ardeth’s struggle would be in vain and she didn’t want to see it. The heat inside her grew even stronger, and she suddenly had a horrible suspicion of the true nature of the wine in the goblet.
