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A hand held to her throbbing face, Nia shuffled to the archives, doing her best not to let the tears overflow. If anyone saw her on the way, she couldn’t let her upset show—she had no wish to make explanations, not until she got where she was going. After all, how could she explain that it was the Pharaoh himself who’d put her in the state she was in?
She was sore all over, but that was nothing new. Iahotep was not exactly known for being gentle, but tonight in particular, something seemed to have set him off. Perhaps it was the promise of war looming on the horizon, or perhaps it was just some imaginary thing she’d supposedly said, but either way, she was the one who was paying the price for it. Better me than the Queen, was the mantra she repeated to herself all too often, but why did it have to be her at all?
Was this her punishment for her rebellion throughout the years? Was this her just dues for how much grief and frustration she’d caused her family? If that were the case, she felt she’d paid enough; it seemed the scales were unbalanced with all that Iahotep had already put her through and with everything else he promised in the future. Perhaps this wasn’t punishment at all, but just a simple case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Whatever it was, she was ready for it to end.
Eyes darting back and forth to make sure no one noted her passage, Nia made quick work of the distance between the royal bedchambers and the archives, slipping inside with a profound sigh of relief. Over the past couple weeks, the austere, scholarly room had become her haven—the only place she could let her guard down without judgment, and certainly the only place in the Palace where she felt even a modicum of safety. Zoser had a way of calming her down, of soothing her through the worst of the Pharaoh’s torments, and she’d come to cherish that bond, to rely on it when she could rely on nothing else. Even if she still refused to outright speak of what happened to her.
It didn’t take her long to find the older man dozing off at his desk, fingers stained with ink and head nodding dangerously close to the wood itself. Walking over to him, she gently placed her hand between his head and the desk before he ended up hurting himself. “Zoser,” she murmured softly so as not to startle him; the last thing she wanted was for him to just fall out of the chair. “Zoser, wake up.” Her voice was rough and shaky with unshed tears, dark eyes glassy as she fought to blink them away.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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A hand held to her throbbing face, Nia shuffled to the archives, doing her best not to let the tears overflow. If anyone saw her on the way, she couldn’t let her upset show—she had no wish to make explanations, not until she got where she was going. After all, how could she explain that it was the Pharaoh himself who’d put her in the state she was in?
She was sore all over, but that was nothing new. Iahotep was not exactly known for being gentle, but tonight in particular, something seemed to have set him off. Perhaps it was the promise of war looming on the horizon, or perhaps it was just some imaginary thing she’d supposedly said, but either way, she was the one who was paying the price for it. Better me than the Queen, was the mantra she repeated to herself all too often, but why did it have to be her at all?
Was this her punishment for her rebellion throughout the years? Was this her just dues for how much grief and frustration she’d caused her family? If that were the case, she felt she’d paid enough; it seemed the scales were unbalanced with all that Iahotep had already put her through and with everything else he promised in the future. Perhaps this wasn’t punishment at all, but just a simple case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Whatever it was, she was ready for it to end.
Eyes darting back and forth to make sure no one noted her passage, Nia made quick work of the distance between the royal bedchambers and the archives, slipping inside with a profound sigh of relief. Over the past couple weeks, the austere, scholarly room had become her haven—the only place she could let her guard down without judgment, and certainly the only place in the Palace where she felt even a modicum of safety. Zoser had a way of calming her down, of soothing her through the worst of the Pharaoh’s torments, and she’d come to cherish that bond, to rely on it when she could rely on nothing else. Even if she still refused to outright speak of what happened to her.
It didn’t take her long to find the older man dozing off at his desk, fingers stained with ink and head nodding dangerously close to the wood itself. Walking over to him, she gently placed her hand between his head and the desk before he ended up hurting himself. “Zoser,” she murmured softly so as not to startle him; the last thing she wanted was for him to just fall out of the chair. “Zoser, wake up.” Her voice was rough and shaky with unshed tears, dark eyes glassy as she fought to blink them away.
A hand held to her throbbing face, Nia shuffled to the archives, doing her best not to let the tears overflow. If anyone saw her on the way, she couldn’t let her upset show—she had no wish to make explanations, not until she got where she was going. After all, how could she explain that it was the Pharaoh himself who’d put her in the state she was in?
She was sore all over, but that was nothing new. Iahotep was not exactly known for being gentle, but tonight in particular, something seemed to have set him off. Perhaps it was the promise of war looming on the horizon, or perhaps it was just some imaginary thing she’d supposedly said, but either way, she was the one who was paying the price for it. Better me than the Queen, was the mantra she repeated to herself all too often, but why did it have to be her at all?
Was this her punishment for her rebellion throughout the years? Was this her just dues for how much grief and frustration she’d caused her family? If that were the case, she felt she’d paid enough; it seemed the scales were unbalanced with all that Iahotep had already put her through and with everything else he promised in the future. Perhaps this wasn’t punishment at all, but just a simple case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Whatever it was, she was ready for it to end.
Eyes darting back and forth to make sure no one noted her passage, Nia made quick work of the distance between the royal bedchambers and the archives, slipping inside with a profound sigh of relief. Over the past couple weeks, the austere, scholarly room had become her haven—the only place she could let her guard down without judgment, and certainly the only place in the Palace where she felt even a modicum of safety. Zoser had a way of calming her down, of soothing her through the worst of the Pharaoh’s torments, and she’d come to cherish that bond, to rely on it when she could rely on nothing else. Even if she still refused to outright speak of what happened to her.
It didn’t take her long to find the older man dozing off at his desk, fingers stained with ink and head nodding dangerously close to the wood itself. Walking over to him, she gently placed her hand between his head and the desk before he ended up hurting himself. “Zoser,” she murmured softly so as not to startle him; the last thing she wanted was for him to just fall out of the chair. “Zoser, wake up.” Her voice was rough and shaky with unshed tears, dark eyes glassy as she fought to blink them away.
There was a distinct convenience that came with temporarily residing in the Archives until the flood damage to his home's foundation could be repaired. With all that had come up with the missing funds from the Royal Treasury and the impending audit of the Hei's, Zoser found these extra hours of silence had been helpful in allowing his mind to shift from his daily tasks to this new puzzle.
The Pharaoh had become quite a taskmaster, keeping Zoser close and using using his position and knowledge within the Evening Star Palace to his advantage, particularly in cases like this. Perhaps the Pharaoh felt a kindred sense between them, having both come from common birth into their positions. Despite Zoser's dislike of the man's way of handling his newly gained power - and his handling of other people, he knew that assisting the crown in whatever way necessary would only benefit Queen Hatshepsut as the Pharaoh led his men into battle in the weeks to come. It was important fo him to keep that in mind.
Sleep had been the most elusive thing in Zoser's life, even as a child. The beauty of the University library in Athenia is that the lamps were always burning. It was nearly impossible to tell if it was day or night among the stacks of scrolls and tomes. It was where he lost many hours and gained his love of knowledge. He held the same habit of keeping the lamps burning within his archives as well, usually staving off sleep to allow work to happen. Insomnia could only persist but for so long before a few tendrils of exhaustion would pull him under.
Unaware that he had even started dozing, the sound of his name resulted in a sharp, deep inhale of breath through his nose. The second urging had his eyes opening wide and his body snapped up from it's low-hovering position near the desk. Taking a moment's time to reorient himself, he turned to see that he was no longer alone.
Ledgers and accounts were strewn across the desk and he became all to conscious of who stood before him. A quick hand made fast to close the ledgers before him, keeping such things private as he promised. Blinking a few times, his blurry vision cleared to see Neithotep.
His first instinct was to offer her a soft smile of welcome, but his face fell and his eyes widened as he saw the state of her. Tears brimmed in her eyes and one side of her face bore distinct discoloration and the start of swelling. Rage and heartache washed against the inside of his ribcage as he slowly moved to stand from his chair, an arm outstretched to her in case she needed it.
"My Lady....what..."
He caught himself, knowing better than to ask 'what happened' but slipping so slightly in these moments after waking. If this is what the Pharaoh had done to her...there was no telling what was hidden beneath her kalasaris.
"Please, sit," he offered, pulling out the chair he had just been in for her. His voice just a few shades away from panic but deepened with concern as he looked around their surroundings for something, anything that could help. His hand ran down over his face then up again through his hair as he tried to urge his mind into being coherent for a moment, though all he could hear was the rush of worry between his ears.
"Is...there anything I can do? I...I have wine?"
It was an offer, though it sounded like a question, and he nearly winced at the ridiculousness of the offering, but moved to pluck a small, fine pewter goblet from his small personal shelf and uncorked a half-finished bottle of wine from beneath the desk. Once poured, he offered it to her, and let his eyes dare to glance over the mark on her face again.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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There was a distinct convenience that came with temporarily residing in the Archives until the flood damage to his home's foundation could be repaired. With all that had come up with the missing funds from the Royal Treasury and the impending audit of the Hei's, Zoser found these extra hours of silence had been helpful in allowing his mind to shift from his daily tasks to this new puzzle.
The Pharaoh had become quite a taskmaster, keeping Zoser close and using using his position and knowledge within the Evening Star Palace to his advantage, particularly in cases like this. Perhaps the Pharaoh felt a kindred sense between them, having both come from common birth into their positions. Despite Zoser's dislike of the man's way of handling his newly gained power - and his handling of other people, he knew that assisting the crown in whatever way necessary would only benefit Queen Hatshepsut as the Pharaoh led his men into battle in the weeks to come. It was important fo him to keep that in mind.
Sleep had been the most elusive thing in Zoser's life, even as a child. The beauty of the University library in Athenia is that the lamps were always burning. It was nearly impossible to tell if it was day or night among the stacks of scrolls and tomes. It was where he lost many hours and gained his love of knowledge. He held the same habit of keeping the lamps burning within his archives as well, usually staving off sleep to allow work to happen. Insomnia could only persist but for so long before a few tendrils of exhaustion would pull him under.
Unaware that he had even started dozing, the sound of his name resulted in a sharp, deep inhale of breath through his nose. The second urging had his eyes opening wide and his body snapped up from it's low-hovering position near the desk. Taking a moment's time to reorient himself, he turned to see that he was no longer alone.
Ledgers and accounts were strewn across the desk and he became all to conscious of who stood before him. A quick hand made fast to close the ledgers before him, keeping such things private as he promised. Blinking a few times, his blurry vision cleared to see Neithotep.
His first instinct was to offer her a soft smile of welcome, but his face fell and his eyes widened as he saw the state of her. Tears brimmed in her eyes and one side of her face bore distinct discoloration and the start of swelling. Rage and heartache washed against the inside of his ribcage as he slowly moved to stand from his chair, an arm outstretched to her in case she needed it.
"My Lady....what..."
He caught himself, knowing better than to ask 'what happened' but slipping so slightly in these moments after waking. If this is what the Pharaoh had done to her...there was no telling what was hidden beneath her kalasaris.
"Please, sit," he offered, pulling out the chair he had just been in for her. His voice just a few shades away from panic but deepened with concern as he looked around their surroundings for something, anything that could help. His hand ran down over his face then up again through his hair as he tried to urge his mind into being coherent for a moment, though all he could hear was the rush of worry between his ears.
"Is...there anything I can do? I...I have wine?"
It was an offer, though it sounded like a question, and he nearly winced at the ridiculousness of the offering, but moved to pluck a small, fine pewter goblet from his small personal shelf and uncorked a half-finished bottle of wine from beneath the desk. Once poured, he offered it to her, and let his eyes dare to glance over the mark on her face again.
There was a distinct convenience that came with temporarily residing in the Archives until the flood damage to his home's foundation could be repaired. With all that had come up with the missing funds from the Royal Treasury and the impending audit of the Hei's, Zoser found these extra hours of silence had been helpful in allowing his mind to shift from his daily tasks to this new puzzle.
The Pharaoh had become quite a taskmaster, keeping Zoser close and using using his position and knowledge within the Evening Star Palace to his advantage, particularly in cases like this. Perhaps the Pharaoh felt a kindred sense between them, having both come from common birth into their positions. Despite Zoser's dislike of the man's way of handling his newly gained power - and his handling of other people, he knew that assisting the crown in whatever way necessary would only benefit Queen Hatshepsut as the Pharaoh led his men into battle in the weeks to come. It was important fo him to keep that in mind.
Sleep had been the most elusive thing in Zoser's life, even as a child. The beauty of the University library in Athenia is that the lamps were always burning. It was nearly impossible to tell if it was day or night among the stacks of scrolls and tomes. It was where he lost many hours and gained his love of knowledge. He held the same habit of keeping the lamps burning within his archives as well, usually staving off sleep to allow work to happen. Insomnia could only persist but for so long before a few tendrils of exhaustion would pull him under.
Unaware that he had even started dozing, the sound of his name resulted in a sharp, deep inhale of breath through his nose. The second urging had his eyes opening wide and his body snapped up from it's low-hovering position near the desk. Taking a moment's time to reorient himself, he turned to see that he was no longer alone.
Ledgers and accounts were strewn across the desk and he became all to conscious of who stood before him. A quick hand made fast to close the ledgers before him, keeping such things private as he promised. Blinking a few times, his blurry vision cleared to see Neithotep.
His first instinct was to offer her a soft smile of welcome, but his face fell and his eyes widened as he saw the state of her. Tears brimmed in her eyes and one side of her face bore distinct discoloration and the start of swelling. Rage and heartache washed against the inside of his ribcage as he slowly moved to stand from his chair, an arm outstretched to her in case she needed it.
"My Lady....what..."
He caught himself, knowing better than to ask 'what happened' but slipping so slightly in these moments after waking. If this is what the Pharaoh had done to her...there was no telling what was hidden beneath her kalasaris.
"Please, sit," he offered, pulling out the chair he had just been in for her. His voice just a few shades away from panic but deepened with concern as he looked around their surroundings for something, anything that could help. His hand ran down over his face then up again through his hair as he tried to urge his mind into being coherent for a moment, though all he could hear was the rush of worry between his ears.
"Is...there anything I can do? I...I have wine?"
It was an offer, though it sounded like a question, and he nearly winced at the ridiculousness of the offering, but moved to pluck a small, fine pewter goblet from his small personal shelf and uncorked a half-finished bottle of wine from beneath the desk. Once poured, he offered it to her, and let his eyes dare to glance over the mark on her face again.
The look on Zoser’s face nearly undid her entirely, closing her eyes against the looming tears and turning her head away to hide the telltale look of shame and regret. No matter that she had no choice in what she did, no matter that she would walk away from it all if she could; she could not help the sense of shame that filled her body and soul every time she walked away from Iahotep’s chambers. The things he did to her body, the things he made her beg for and even enjoy… It all filled her with a crippling remorse, a guilt that made her feel she was no better than a lowly whore.
Silently, she took the offered chair and did her best to avoid his gaze, the concern and rage in his own nearly making her spill it all. Even if she didn’t speak of the things the Pharaoh did to her, they both knew. The marks on her skin, the limp in her step… Zoser was more than aware, and one of the only people in all of Egypt she’d ever trust not to say a word. Part of her felt she owed him more explanation, that for everything he’d done, he at least deserved to know what it was he was sheltering her from. But would the telling of it ease the burden? Or would it simply bare her pain and make her even more vulnerable than she already was?
Part of her wanted to talk about it, to share that weight with someone else so she didn’t have to carry it alone. But was it fair to bring another into her problems? To subject him to gods only knew what sort of torture should it ever be discovered he’d kept her secret? By now, they were likely past the point of no return, but at least if he didn’t actually know anything…
Nia accepted the wine with shaking hands, her trembling causing the maroon liquid to slosh over the sides and drip onto her kalasiris. She did not seem concerned with the stains, however—after all, what was a ruined bit of fabric compared to the ruin of her life? It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Every day, it became just a little bit harder not to surrender to that hopelessness, not to simply wade in amongst the crocodiles that haunted the banks of the Nile and offer herself as sacrifice to a ravenous hunger that could erase everything like she’d never even existed.
Glancing up, she saw his eyes wander to her bruising face, one hand reaching up to self-consciously cover the mark. “It’s… not as bad as it looks,” she said defensively, her words feeble and hollow—meant to reassure, but with an inflection that was sure to achieve the opposite effect. “I… fell? Do you think anyone else would believe that?”
With a profound shudder, she drained the rest of her wine and set the glass off to the side. Resting her elbows in her lap, she buried her face in her hands, the sharp intake of her breath bordering on a sob. “I don’t know how much longer I can take this, Zoser,” she whispered, her voice small and nearly inaudible. “I… I am scared. I fear for the day that anger cannot be soothed. That sweet words and soft kisses won’t be enough to stop him.”
Another shuddering breath wracked her body before she looked up at him again. “He is mad. Utterly, utterly mad.” The words were treasonous, but she didn’t care. What could he do to her that he hadn’t done already? Kill her? At this point, it might be considered a mercy. “The things he says, the things he does… Zoser, I fear for all of Egypt if someone cannot save him from himself. I try, gods how I try, but… I am only one woman, and a foolish one, at that. I do not know what else I can do.”
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The look on Zoser’s face nearly undid her entirely, closing her eyes against the looming tears and turning her head away to hide the telltale look of shame and regret. No matter that she had no choice in what she did, no matter that she would walk away from it all if she could; she could not help the sense of shame that filled her body and soul every time she walked away from Iahotep’s chambers. The things he did to her body, the things he made her beg for and even enjoy… It all filled her with a crippling remorse, a guilt that made her feel she was no better than a lowly whore.
Silently, she took the offered chair and did her best to avoid his gaze, the concern and rage in his own nearly making her spill it all. Even if she didn’t speak of the things the Pharaoh did to her, they both knew. The marks on her skin, the limp in her step… Zoser was more than aware, and one of the only people in all of Egypt she’d ever trust not to say a word. Part of her felt she owed him more explanation, that for everything he’d done, he at least deserved to know what it was he was sheltering her from. But would the telling of it ease the burden? Or would it simply bare her pain and make her even more vulnerable than she already was?
Part of her wanted to talk about it, to share that weight with someone else so she didn’t have to carry it alone. But was it fair to bring another into her problems? To subject him to gods only knew what sort of torture should it ever be discovered he’d kept her secret? By now, they were likely past the point of no return, but at least if he didn’t actually know anything…
Nia accepted the wine with shaking hands, her trembling causing the maroon liquid to slosh over the sides and drip onto her kalasiris. She did not seem concerned with the stains, however—after all, what was a ruined bit of fabric compared to the ruin of her life? It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Every day, it became just a little bit harder not to surrender to that hopelessness, not to simply wade in amongst the crocodiles that haunted the banks of the Nile and offer herself as sacrifice to a ravenous hunger that could erase everything like she’d never even existed.
Glancing up, she saw his eyes wander to her bruising face, one hand reaching up to self-consciously cover the mark. “It’s… not as bad as it looks,” she said defensively, her words feeble and hollow—meant to reassure, but with an inflection that was sure to achieve the opposite effect. “I… fell? Do you think anyone else would believe that?”
With a profound shudder, she drained the rest of her wine and set the glass off to the side. Resting her elbows in her lap, she buried her face in her hands, the sharp intake of her breath bordering on a sob. “I don’t know how much longer I can take this, Zoser,” she whispered, her voice small and nearly inaudible. “I… I am scared. I fear for the day that anger cannot be soothed. That sweet words and soft kisses won’t be enough to stop him.”
Another shuddering breath wracked her body before she looked up at him again. “He is mad. Utterly, utterly mad.” The words were treasonous, but she didn’t care. What could he do to her that he hadn’t done already? Kill her? At this point, it might be considered a mercy. “The things he says, the things he does… Zoser, I fear for all of Egypt if someone cannot save him from himself. I try, gods how I try, but… I am only one woman, and a foolish one, at that. I do not know what else I can do.”
The look on Zoser’s face nearly undid her entirely, closing her eyes against the looming tears and turning her head away to hide the telltale look of shame and regret. No matter that she had no choice in what she did, no matter that she would walk away from it all if she could; she could not help the sense of shame that filled her body and soul every time she walked away from Iahotep’s chambers. The things he did to her body, the things he made her beg for and even enjoy… It all filled her with a crippling remorse, a guilt that made her feel she was no better than a lowly whore.
Silently, she took the offered chair and did her best to avoid his gaze, the concern and rage in his own nearly making her spill it all. Even if she didn’t speak of the things the Pharaoh did to her, they both knew. The marks on her skin, the limp in her step… Zoser was more than aware, and one of the only people in all of Egypt she’d ever trust not to say a word. Part of her felt she owed him more explanation, that for everything he’d done, he at least deserved to know what it was he was sheltering her from. But would the telling of it ease the burden? Or would it simply bare her pain and make her even more vulnerable than she already was?
Part of her wanted to talk about it, to share that weight with someone else so she didn’t have to carry it alone. But was it fair to bring another into her problems? To subject him to gods only knew what sort of torture should it ever be discovered he’d kept her secret? By now, they were likely past the point of no return, but at least if he didn’t actually know anything…
Nia accepted the wine with shaking hands, her trembling causing the maroon liquid to slosh over the sides and drip onto her kalasiris. She did not seem concerned with the stains, however—after all, what was a ruined bit of fabric compared to the ruin of her life? It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Every day, it became just a little bit harder not to surrender to that hopelessness, not to simply wade in amongst the crocodiles that haunted the banks of the Nile and offer herself as sacrifice to a ravenous hunger that could erase everything like she’d never even existed.
Glancing up, she saw his eyes wander to her bruising face, one hand reaching up to self-consciously cover the mark. “It’s… not as bad as it looks,” she said defensively, her words feeble and hollow—meant to reassure, but with an inflection that was sure to achieve the opposite effect. “I… fell? Do you think anyone else would believe that?”
With a profound shudder, she drained the rest of her wine and set the glass off to the side. Resting her elbows in her lap, she buried her face in her hands, the sharp intake of her breath bordering on a sob. “I don’t know how much longer I can take this, Zoser,” she whispered, her voice small and nearly inaudible. “I… I am scared. I fear for the day that anger cannot be soothed. That sweet words and soft kisses won’t be enough to stop him.”
Another shuddering breath wracked her body before she looked up at him again. “He is mad. Utterly, utterly mad.” The words were treasonous, but she didn’t care. What could he do to her that he hadn’t done already? Kill her? At this point, it might be considered a mercy. “The things he says, the things he does… Zoser, I fear for all of Egypt if someone cannot save him from himself. I try, gods how I try, but… I am only one woman, and a foolish one, at that. I do not know what else I can do.”
When Zoser offered her the cup of wine, he noticed immediately that the shaking of her hand had the wine trembling over the edge of the rim. His hand found its way around hers, steadying it as she brought the wine to her lips, his other hand resting comfortingly on her shoulder as she finished it.
The tremble in her voice as she tried her feeble excuse only managed to send the outer corners of his eyebrows downward in concern. No, there was no escaping the fact that she had been assaulted, and it would appear so out in the world as well. What would Iaheru say when seeing her beautiful daughter's face marred in such a way?
Zoser knelt down before her as Nia put her face in her hands, resting on hand on her knee in offered comfort as the words spilled from her in sobs. Concerned tugged at him as her words drew more frantic and powerful, glancing over his shoulder into the darkness beyond the lamplight to ensure they were alone.
"Shh, shhh," he started, cupping the uninjured side of her face with one broad hand as he used a thumb to wipe away her tears. It was also a futile attempt to quiet her words of treason, his eyes wide with concern for her wellbeing as well as for them both. It would be both of their heads if such words were traced back to this place and this time - for so many reasons beyond the uttered phrases.
The frenetic overlapping of her words as they spilled forward, building toward another round of sobs sent him from resting his hips back on his heels to his knees, lurching forward to wrap his arms around her shoulder and pull her in close to his torso from where she sat. One of his hands found its way to the back of her head and gently guided it toward his shoulder, offering a place for her tears and sobs so that they would be muffled in the echoing cavern of the Archives.
It was an embrace that had been saved for very few, mostly limited to a young Hatshepsut when her tears spilled forward and there was no one else to witness it. Comfort was the only thing he could provide when tears were spilled, and only when eyes were away.
His other hand rubbed a flat-palmed circle along her back as her words continued to spill against his chest.
"I know, I know," he offered softly, the sympathetic pain of her tears affecting the timbre of his voice, "I fear it too...you are not alone in this, I swear it. It...this cannot last forever. Nothing lasts forever." The words he said tried to comfort her, but as he looked down along her back, he could see the ghosts of bruises covering the skin beneath the sheer fabric. It made the bile in his stomach churn.
By the gods above, he wanted to protect her from this - to protect everyone from this, but it was futile. A low-burning rage filled him at the thought of the Council, and more importantly, the Queen Dowager Isethperu, for allowing this man to take the power of the kingdom and wield it so carelessly.
No, she was not in this alone. In that moment, Zoser resolved to find a way to stop this as well.
"Breathe, shhhh," he offered softly, his eyes meeting hers as he brushed the hair away from her face. Perhaps, though, there would be some help she could seek. Zoser knew of the new physician that had been summoned for the Queen, a Greek woman of some interesting temperment. He could ask if there was perhaps a salve or something that could help with the bruising?
"This needs some form of treatment...your mother will question this."
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When Zoser offered her the cup of wine, he noticed immediately that the shaking of her hand had the wine trembling over the edge of the rim. His hand found its way around hers, steadying it as she brought the wine to her lips, his other hand resting comfortingly on her shoulder as she finished it.
The tremble in her voice as she tried her feeble excuse only managed to send the outer corners of his eyebrows downward in concern. No, there was no escaping the fact that she had been assaulted, and it would appear so out in the world as well. What would Iaheru say when seeing her beautiful daughter's face marred in such a way?
Zoser knelt down before her as Nia put her face in her hands, resting on hand on her knee in offered comfort as the words spilled from her in sobs. Concerned tugged at him as her words drew more frantic and powerful, glancing over his shoulder into the darkness beyond the lamplight to ensure they were alone.
"Shh, shhh," he started, cupping the uninjured side of her face with one broad hand as he used a thumb to wipe away her tears. It was also a futile attempt to quiet her words of treason, his eyes wide with concern for her wellbeing as well as for them both. It would be both of their heads if such words were traced back to this place and this time - for so many reasons beyond the uttered phrases.
The frenetic overlapping of her words as they spilled forward, building toward another round of sobs sent him from resting his hips back on his heels to his knees, lurching forward to wrap his arms around her shoulder and pull her in close to his torso from where she sat. One of his hands found its way to the back of her head and gently guided it toward his shoulder, offering a place for her tears and sobs so that they would be muffled in the echoing cavern of the Archives.
It was an embrace that had been saved for very few, mostly limited to a young Hatshepsut when her tears spilled forward and there was no one else to witness it. Comfort was the only thing he could provide when tears were spilled, and only when eyes were away.
His other hand rubbed a flat-palmed circle along her back as her words continued to spill against his chest.
"I know, I know," he offered softly, the sympathetic pain of her tears affecting the timbre of his voice, "I fear it too...you are not alone in this, I swear it. It...this cannot last forever. Nothing lasts forever." The words he said tried to comfort her, but as he looked down along her back, he could see the ghosts of bruises covering the skin beneath the sheer fabric. It made the bile in his stomach churn.
By the gods above, he wanted to protect her from this - to protect everyone from this, but it was futile. A low-burning rage filled him at the thought of the Council, and more importantly, the Queen Dowager Isethperu, for allowing this man to take the power of the kingdom and wield it so carelessly.
No, she was not in this alone. In that moment, Zoser resolved to find a way to stop this as well.
"Breathe, shhhh," he offered softly, his eyes meeting hers as he brushed the hair away from her face. Perhaps, though, there would be some help she could seek. Zoser knew of the new physician that had been summoned for the Queen, a Greek woman of some interesting temperment. He could ask if there was perhaps a salve or something that could help with the bruising?
"This needs some form of treatment...your mother will question this."
When Zoser offered her the cup of wine, he noticed immediately that the shaking of her hand had the wine trembling over the edge of the rim. His hand found its way around hers, steadying it as she brought the wine to her lips, his other hand resting comfortingly on her shoulder as she finished it.
The tremble in her voice as she tried her feeble excuse only managed to send the outer corners of his eyebrows downward in concern. No, there was no escaping the fact that she had been assaulted, and it would appear so out in the world as well. What would Iaheru say when seeing her beautiful daughter's face marred in such a way?
Zoser knelt down before her as Nia put her face in her hands, resting on hand on her knee in offered comfort as the words spilled from her in sobs. Concerned tugged at him as her words drew more frantic and powerful, glancing over his shoulder into the darkness beyond the lamplight to ensure they were alone.
"Shh, shhh," he started, cupping the uninjured side of her face with one broad hand as he used a thumb to wipe away her tears. It was also a futile attempt to quiet her words of treason, his eyes wide with concern for her wellbeing as well as for them both. It would be both of their heads if such words were traced back to this place and this time - for so many reasons beyond the uttered phrases.
The frenetic overlapping of her words as they spilled forward, building toward another round of sobs sent him from resting his hips back on his heels to his knees, lurching forward to wrap his arms around her shoulder and pull her in close to his torso from where she sat. One of his hands found its way to the back of her head and gently guided it toward his shoulder, offering a place for her tears and sobs so that they would be muffled in the echoing cavern of the Archives.
It was an embrace that had been saved for very few, mostly limited to a young Hatshepsut when her tears spilled forward and there was no one else to witness it. Comfort was the only thing he could provide when tears were spilled, and only when eyes were away.
His other hand rubbed a flat-palmed circle along her back as her words continued to spill against his chest.
"I know, I know," he offered softly, the sympathetic pain of her tears affecting the timbre of his voice, "I fear it too...you are not alone in this, I swear it. It...this cannot last forever. Nothing lasts forever." The words he said tried to comfort her, but as he looked down along her back, he could see the ghosts of bruises covering the skin beneath the sheer fabric. It made the bile in his stomach churn.
By the gods above, he wanted to protect her from this - to protect everyone from this, but it was futile. A low-burning rage filled him at the thought of the Council, and more importantly, the Queen Dowager Isethperu, for allowing this man to take the power of the kingdom and wield it so carelessly.
No, she was not in this alone. In that moment, Zoser resolved to find a way to stop this as well.
"Breathe, shhhh," he offered softly, his eyes meeting hers as he brushed the hair away from her face. Perhaps, though, there would be some help she could seek. Zoser knew of the new physician that had been summoned for the Queen, a Greek woman of some interesting temperment. He could ask if there was perhaps a salve or something that could help with the bruising?
"This needs some form of treatment...your mother will question this."
Nia peeked between her fingers when Zoser knelt before her, the look of pure and uncorrupted concern on his face finally serving to undo her. It had been so long since anyone had looked at her like that, without demand or expectation, that she was starting to forget how such things even appeared. The tears flowed freely then, an uncomfortable mix of grief, pain, and gratitude gelling together and expressing itself through the powerful sobs that shook her body. When his arms wrapped around her and pulled her to his chest, she started sobbing that much harder, falling to her knees so that she might press herself even more fervently into the safety of his arms.
She clung desperately to the man offering her such simple comfort, burying her face in the fabric of his tunic as she released weeks of pent-up anger and agony into the refuge of his chest. His embrace was chaste, soothing, almost fatherly, yet somehow the furthest thing from paternal she could imagine. Perhaps it was because her own father had never been one to show her much affection, and therefore she had no similar associations to make. But somehow, she could never bring herself to think of Zoser in that way.
In fact, Nia wasn’t sure what she felt for Zoser. A strong bond, to be sure, and no shortage of apprecation. But beyond that, she was… confused. He was so kind to her, so gentle and protective, and it stirred feelings within her that she was hard put to recognize. New feelings stirred for new men practically weekly, at least before Iahotep, and yet these feelings were not quite like those either. There was a muted passion, yes, the stirrings of more familiar desires, but it was still… different. Deeper, more meaningful, something entirely unique unto itself.
But these were dangerous thoughts, ones the young noblewoman couldn’t dare to voice aloud. Should their association be discovered, she and the scribe both already faced a certain peril, even without muddying the waters of their hazardous relationship. Then again… if they were in danger as it was… why not make that danger worth it?
Her sobs steadily quieting, she finally pulled back to look Zoser in the eyes, her own blurred and hazy with tears. Leaning into the gentle brush of his hand as he pushed the hair from her face, Nia forced back the troubling thoughts that tumbled through the perplexed fog of her brain. How could she trust anything she felt when she was in a state like this?
Never mind that he filled many of her more lucid thoughts, as well.
Carefully breathing in and out at his direction, she brought her heartbeat back from its panicked state, while some of the tension in her muscles started to ease. Closing her eyes, she clasped his hand to the uninjured side of his face, her fingers squeezing a little tighter than she intended. After several long moments, she managed to bring herself under some semblance of control, her eyes fluttering back open when he spoke again.
This needs some form of treatment...your mother will question this.
“My mother ought to question a lot of things, and yet she doesn’t,” Nia replied in a voice harsh and broken from too much strain in the night. Screaming, sobbing, begging, they all colored the uneven timbre, and she cleared her throat in a futile attempt to wash it away. “It is only a bruise, Zoser. It will fade.” Her thumb trailed lightly over the back of his hand, dark gaze lingering on his face before she let her fingers drop. “And if she does ask, I’ll tell her I got caught in the middle of a tavern brawl. It’s not that far-fetched since it’s happened before.”
Shoulder lifting in a throbbing shrug, she offered him a half-hearted and brittle smile. “Besides, there’s no one else I trust not to ask questions. I can’t seek treatment, especially not in the Palace. Names will drop, rumors will spread. I’d rather avoid it if I can.”
Deciding to drop the subject altogether, Nia looked at Zoser with an almost painfully hopeful expression. “Are the kittens still here? Do you think they’re awake?”
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Nia peeked between her fingers when Zoser knelt before her, the look of pure and uncorrupted concern on his face finally serving to undo her. It had been so long since anyone had looked at her like that, without demand or expectation, that she was starting to forget how such things even appeared. The tears flowed freely then, an uncomfortable mix of grief, pain, and gratitude gelling together and expressing itself through the powerful sobs that shook her body. When his arms wrapped around her and pulled her to his chest, she started sobbing that much harder, falling to her knees so that she might press herself even more fervently into the safety of his arms.
She clung desperately to the man offering her such simple comfort, burying her face in the fabric of his tunic as she released weeks of pent-up anger and agony into the refuge of his chest. His embrace was chaste, soothing, almost fatherly, yet somehow the furthest thing from paternal she could imagine. Perhaps it was because her own father had never been one to show her much affection, and therefore she had no similar associations to make. But somehow, she could never bring herself to think of Zoser in that way.
In fact, Nia wasn’t sure what she felt for Zoser. A strong bond, to be sure, and no shortage of apprecation. But beyond that, she was… confused. He was so kind to her, so gentle and protective, and it stirred feelings within her that she was hard put to recognize. New feelings stirred for new men practically weekly, at least before Iahotep, and yet these feelings were not quite like those either. There was a muted passion, yes, the stirrings of more familiar desires, but it was still… different. Deeper, more meaningful, something entirely unique unto itself.
But these were dangerous thoughts, ones the young noblewoman couldn’t dare to voice aloud. Should their association be discovered, she and the scribe both already faced a certain peril, even without muddying the waters of their hazardous relationship. Then again… if they were in danger as it was… why not make that danger worth it?
Her sobs steadily quieting, she finally pulled back to look Zoser in the eyes, her own blurred and hazy with tears. Leaning into the gentle brush of his hand as he pushed the hair from her face, Nia forced back the troubling thoughts that tumbled through the perplexed fog of her brain. How could she trust anything she felt when she was in a state like this?
Never mind that he filled many of her more lucid thoughts, as well.
Carefully breathing in and out at his direction, she brought her heartbeat back from its panicked state, while some of the tension in her muscles started to ease. Closing her eyes, she clasped his hand to the uninjured side of his face, her fingers squeezing a little tighter than she intended. After several long moments, she managed to bring herself under some semblance of control, her eyes fluttering back open when he spoke again.
This needs some form of treatment...your mother will question this.
“My mother ought to question a lot of things, and yet she doesn’t,” Nia replied in a voice harsh and broken from too much strain in the night. Screaming, sobbing, begging, they all colored the uneven timbre, and she cleared her throat in a futile attempt to wash it away. “It is only a bruise, Zoser. It will fade.” Her thumb trailed lightly over the back of his hand, dark gaze lingering on his face before she let her fingers drop. “And if she does ask, I’ll tell her I got caught in the middle of a tavern brawl. It’s not that far-fetched since it’s happened before.”
Shoulder lifting in a throbbing shrug, she offered him a half-hearted and brittle smile. “Besides, there’s no one else I trust not to ask questions. I can’t seek treatment, especially not in the Palace. Names will drop, rumors will spread. I’d rather avoid it if I can.”
Deciding to drop the subject altogether, Nia looked at Zoser with an almost painfully hopeful expression. “Are the kittens still here? Do you think they’re awake?”
Nia peeked between her fingers when Zoser knelt before her, the look of pure and uncorrupted concern on his face finally serving to undo her. It had been so long since anyone had looked at her like that, without demand or expectation, that she was starting to forget how such things even appeared. The tears flowed freely then, an uncomfortable mix of grief, pain, and gratitude gelling together and expressing itself through the powerful sobs that shook her body. When his arms wrapped around her and pulled her to his chest, she started sobbing that much harder, falling to her knees so that she might press herself even more fervently into the safety of his arms.
She clung desperately to the man offering her such simple comfort, burying her face in the fabric of his tunic as she released weeks of pent-up anger and agony into the refuge of his chest. His embrace was chaste, soothing, almost fatherly, yet somehow the furthest thing from paternal she could imagine. Perhaps it was because her own father had never been one to show her much affection, and therefore she had no similar associations to make. But somehow, she could never bring herself to think of Zoser in that way.
In fact, Nia wasn’t sure what she felt for Zoser. A strong bond, to be sure, and no shortage of apprecation. But beyond that, she was… confused. He was so kind to her, so gentle and protective, and it stirred feelings within her that she was hard put to recognize. New feelings stirred for new men practically weekly, at least before Iahotep, and yet these feelings were not quite like those either. There was a muted passion, yes, the stirrings of more familiar desires, but it was still… different. Deeper, more meaningful, something entirely unique unto itself.
But these were dangerous thoughts, ones the young noblewoman couldn’t dare to voice aloud. Should their association be discovered, she and the scribe both already faced a certain peril, even without muddying the waters of their hazardous relationship. Then again… if they were in danger as it was… why not make that danger worth it?
Her sobs steadily quieting, she finally pulled back to look Zoser in the eyes, her own blurred and hazy with tears. Leaning into the gentle brush of his hand as he pushed the hair from her face, Nia forced back the troubling thoughts that tumbled through the perplexed fog of her brain. How could she trust anything she felt when she was in a state like this?
Never mind that he filled many of her more lucid thoughts, as well.
Carefully breathing in and out at his direction, she brought her heartbeat back from its panicked state, while some of the tension in her muscles started to ease. Closing her eyes, she clasped his hand to the uninjured side of his face, her fingers squeezing a little tighter than she intended. After several long moments, she managed to bring herself under some semblance of control, her eyes fluttering back open when he spoke again.
This needs some form of treatment...your mother will question this.
“My mother ought to question a lot of things, and yet she doesn’t,” Nia replied in a voice harsh and broken from too much strain in the night. Screaming, sobbing, begging, they all colored the uneven timbre, and she cleared her throat in a futile attempt to wash it away. “It is only a bruise, Zoser. It will fade.” Her thumb trailed lightly over the back of his hand, dark gaze lingering on his face before she let her fingers drop. “And if she does ask, I’ll tell her I got caught in the middle of a tavern brawl. It’s not that far-fetched since it’s happened before.”
Shoulder lifting in a throbbing shrug, she offered him a half-hearted and brittle smile. “Besides, there’s no one else I trust not to ask questions. I can’t seek treatment, especially not in the Palace. Names will drop, rumors will spread. I’d rather avoid it if I can.”
Deciding to drop the subject altogether, Nia looked at Zoser with an almost painfully hopeful expression. “Are the kittens still here? Do you think they’re awake?”
Zoser felt his heart rend in half as his arms wrapped around the crumbling noblewoman, using his body as a support for her. Fortunate in many ways that his father's blood did not impress the requirements of nobility on him, Zoser had never considered or felt the weight of needing to keep composure. While much of his composure came through his nature, he could not imagine trying to keep everything together as Lady Neithotep had done during all of this.
So, he held her as she cried, feeling her tears soak through the fabric of his tunic. Without thinking a moment on it, he let his cheek press against the top of her head, feeling sensitive to the outpouring of emotion from her sobs. The corners of his eyes prickled with the threat of that shared emotion.
There was nothing they could do. At least, not yet.
Everything she had said about Pharaoh Iahotep was true, but Zoser knew that much of that truth had been secluded within the Palace walls - and for the queen and the woman in his arms, behind closed doors. As for the rest of the Kingdom, many drank in the knowledge that a war would mean more industrious economics as far as work to prepare, as well as the potential spoils and glories of victory. It was a lovely picture of the former General turned King of Kings - a title that alone stopped any from changing his path.
As her breath steadied and he brushed the hair from his face, he blinked a few times too quickly as her hand pressed his against her cheek, clinging for the touch.
A dawning realization passed through him as he noted how she looked up at him before closing her eyes and pressing her hand against his cheek. Even worse was the realization he felt in himself - desire - knowing that even if nothing had passed between them, a line had been crossed. It was one that was personal, if not intimate in nature, though all well above the surface. Realizing that was how he felt, his years and wisdom immediately set forth in smothering the feeling altogether, unsuccessfully.
He cleared his throat a bit, as if to remind his internal feelings that all of this was forbidden. Not only was their difference in status and in age a massive barrier, but his closeness to her family and her relations with the Pharaoh made it beyond impossible. Furthermore, the peril of even the shadow of a thought that suspected them of anything more than being in the Palace at the same time could pose trouble.
Yet, it did not stop his hand from lingering on her cheek as she denied his offer for treatment.
His lips tugged slightly into a grimace as she rationalized it, knowing that there was something right in her words. Still, it would not stop him from pestering the new physician for something that may help in the inevitable future.
When she diverted to speaking of the cats, there was nothing he could do to counteract the look she gave him, and his worried expression softened slightly. If a bit of joy here and there was all he could offer, instead of ending this hell for her, he could do that.
"Yes, but they are now far more active and, truthfully, could be anywhere," he noted, adding humor with a softened smile that did not quite reach his eyes as he stood, extending a hand down to her to help her up. Upon assisting her off the ground, his body's desires were overly aware of how close they stood, sending a shock of warmth through him that lingered as they stood there that closely for a moment or two too long.
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Zoser felt his heart rend in half as his arms wrapped around the crumbling noblewoman, using his body as a support for her. Fortunate in many ways that his father's blood did not impress the requirements of nobility on him, Zoser had never considered or felt the weight of needing to keep composure. While much of his composure came through his nature, he could not imagine trying to keep everything together as Lady Neithotep had done during all of this.
So, he held her as she cried, feeling her tears soak through the fabric of his tunic. Without thinking a moment on it, he let his cheek press against the top of her head, feeling sensitive to the outpouring of emotion from her sobs. The corners of his eyes prickled with the threat of that shared emotion.
There was nothing they could do. At least, not yet.
Everything she had said about Pharaoh Iahotep was true, but Zoser knew that much of that truth had been secluded within the Palace walls - and for the queen and the woman in his arms, behind closed doors. As for the rest of the Kingdom, many drank in the knowledge that a war would mean more industrious economics as far as work to prepare, as well as the potential spoils and glories of victory. It was a lovely picture of the former General turned King of Kings - a title that alone stopped any from changing his path.
As her breath steadied and he brushed the hair from his face, he blinked a few times too quickly as her hand pressed his against her cheek, clinging for the touch.
A dawning realization passed through him as he noted how she looked up at him before closing her eyes and pressing her hand against his cheek. Even worse was the realization he felt in himself - desire - knowing that even if nothing had passed between them, a line had been crossed. It was one that was personal, if not intimate in nature, though all well above the surface. Realizing that was how he felt, his years and wisdom immediately set forth in smothering the feeling altogether, unsuccessfully.
He cleared his throat a bit, as if to remind his internal feelings that all of this was forbidden. Not only was their difference in status and in age a massive barrier, but his closeness to her family and her relations with the Pharaoh made it beyond impossible. Furthermore, the peril of even the shadow of a thought that suspected them of anything more than being in the Palace at the same time could pose trouble.
Yet, it did not stop his hand from lingering on her cheek as she denied his offer for treatment.
His lips tugged slightly into a grimace as she rationalized it, knowing that there was something right in her words. Still, it would not stop him from pestering the new physician for something that may help in the inevitable future.
When she diverted to speaking of the cats, there was nothing he could do to counteract the look she gave him, and his worried expression softened slightly. If a bit of joy here and there was all he could offer, instead of ending this hell for her, he could do that.
"Yes, but they are now far more active and, truthfully, could be anywhere," he noted, adding humor with a softened smile that did not quite reach his eyes as he stood, extending a hand down to her to help her up. Upon assisting her off the ground, his body's desires were overly aware of how close they stood, sending a shock of warmth through him that lingered as they stood there that closely for a moment or two too long.
Zoser felt his heart rend in half as his arms wrapped around the crumbling noblewoman, using his body as a support for her. Fortunate in many ways that his father's blood did not impress the requirements of nobility on him, Zoser had never considered or felt the weight of needing to keep composure. While much of his composure came through his nature, he could not imagine trying to keep everything together as Lady Neithotep had done during all of this.
So, he held her as she cried, feeling her tears soak through the fabric of his tunic. Without thinking a moment on it, he let his cheek press against the top of her head, feeling sensitive to the outpouring of emotion from her sobs. The corners of his eyes prickled with the threat of that shared emotion.
There was nothing they could do. At least, not yet.
Everything she had said about Pharaoh Iahotep was true, but Zoser knew that much of that truth had been secluded within the Palace walls - and for the queen and the woman in his arms, behind closed doors. As for the rest of the Kingdom, many drank in the knowledge that a war would mean more industrious economics as far as work to prepare, as well as the potential spoils and glories of victory. It was a lovely picture of the former General turned King of Kings - a title that alone stopped any from changing his path.
As her breath steadied and he brushed the hair from his face, he blinked a few times too quickly as her hand pressed his against her cheek, clinging for the touch.
A dawning realization passed through him as he noted how she looked up at him before closing her eyes and pressing her hand against his cheek. Even worse was the realization he felt in himself - desire - knowing that even if nothing had passed between them, a line had been crossed. It was one that was personal, if not intimate in nature, though all well above the surface. Realizing that was how he felt, his years and wisdom immediately set forth in smothering the feeling altogether, unsuccessfully.
He cleared his throat a bit, as if to remind his internal feelings that all of this was forbidden. Not only was their difference in status and in age a massive barrier, but his closeness to her family and her relations with the Pharaoh made it beyond impossible. Furthermore, the peril of even the shadow of a thought that suspected them of anything more than being in the Palace at the same time could pose trouble.
Yet, it did not stop his hand from lingering on her cheek as she denied his offer for treatment.
His lips tugged slightly into a grimace as she rationalized it, knowing that there was something right in her words. Still, it would not stop him from pestering the new physician for something that may help in the inevitable future.
When she diverted to speaking of the cats, there was nothing he could do to counteract the look she gave him, and his worried expression softened slightly. If a bit of joy here and there was all he could offer, instead of ending this hell for her, he could do that.
"Yes, but they are now far more active and, truthfully, could be anywhere," he noted, adding humor with a softened smile that did not quite reach his eyes as he stood, extending a hand down to her to help her up. Upon assisting her off the ground, his body's desires were overly aware of how close they stood, sending a shock of warmth through him that lingered as they stood there that closely for a moment or two too long.
The lingering touch, the heated look, the answering sheen of tears in his eyes… all of this told Nia that the confusing mixture of emotions broiling in her chest did not go unreciprocated—something she was unsure how to receive. This hardly seemed the time or place for such feelings, but when did the whims of the heart ever choose convenience? Carefully accepting his hand so she could pull herself to her feet, Nia was slow to remove her fingers from Zoser’s grasp. Instead, she threaded them through his with a gentle squeeze, offering a hesitant smile before dusting off the floor’s debris from her kalasiris.
Straightening back up, she took a step closer, a step that was almost unconscious in its intent. Why she was drifting inward instead of pulling back, she wasn’t quite sure, but even with the warnings of danger screaming through her head, she stayed where she was. His response about the cats was forgotten as soon as he said it, their proximity putting the kittens far from her mind, even if she’d been the one to ask about them.
His fingers were warm in hers, warm as the heat that drifted from his body and sought to join with hers. The ball of her thumb trailed over the back of his hand once more, an idle touch that gave her more time to think before she acted. Did she want Zoser? Before tonight, she wasn’t sure what that answer would have been. He was kind and gentle, handsome in a rather dignified way, but he was a far cry from the sort of man Nia had always been prone to chase. But then, wasn’t that a good thing? The sorts of men the young noblewoman tended to attract always left her heartbroken and disappointed in the end—a wild ride with an anticlimactic conclusion every time.
But Zoser was different. He was a calm, steadying force in her life, a source of strength and wisdom where Nia had none. He knew her most intimate secret and helped her fabricate ways to keep that secret from those who could destroy her with it. The scribe always found a way to make her smile and lighten her spirits even when they lingered in the darkest of places. She cared little for their difference in status or the gap in their ages. So, why then should she turn him away?
Because it could get us both killed.
It was dangerous for any man to take a liking to her now while she lingered in the vice-like grasp of the Pharaoh. He was a powerful man with powerful urges and a possessiveness that promised violent retribution for anyone who dared to touch what he considered his ‘property.’ Iahotep never hesitated to remind her that’s what she was—his toy and his alone, and woe be to any who thought to prove otherwise. Should he ever discover that her heart lingered with another, she had no doubt of the reckoning that would follow.
By that logic, she should have dropped Zoser’s hand and stepped away, seeking out the kittens that she’d asked for and forgetting the heat that sparked between them. But Nia was desperate for a gentle touch, desperate for a man who would hold her and caress her rather than beat and abuse her. It had been too long since she’d felt any hand but Iahotep’s, and the promise of something so drastically different…
She did not pull away.
Instead, her eyes locked with his, a trembling hand reaching up to drift across his face. Hardly knowing what she was doing while simultaneously remaining far too aware, Nia leaned in closer, her body pressing tightly to his. Her gaze drifted downward to his lips and in the timeless second that stretched between her heart’s beating, she closed the distance between them with the brush of her mouth against his.
The contact lasted for only a few moments before she returned to reality, gasping and pulling back while the hand on his face flew to cover her mouth. Wide-eyed, she stared up at him in disbelief at what she’d done—speechless in that protracted silence as she tried to think of what she could possibly say.
Finally, what she managed was a whisper, a tiny exclamation of, “Uh-oh,” whose softness nearly echoed in the bated silence of the archives.
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The lingering touch, the heated look, the answering sheen of tears in his eyes… all of this told Nia that the confusing mixture of emotions broiling in her chest did not go unreciprocated—something she was unsure how to receive. This hardly seemed the time or place for such feelings, but when did the whims of the heart ever choose convenience? Carefully accepting his hand so she could pull herself to her feet, Nia was slow to remove her fingers from Zoser’s grasp. Instead, she threaded them through his with a gentle squeeze, offering a hesitant smile before dusting off the floor’s debris from her kalasiris.
Straightening back up, she took a step closer, a step that was almost unconscious in its intent. Why she was drifting inward instead of pulling back, she wasn’t quite sure, but even with the warnings of danger screaming through her head, she stayed where she was. His response about the cats was forgotten as soon as he said it, their proximity putting the kittens far from her mind, even if she’d been the one to ask about them.
His fingers were warm in hers, warm as the heat that drifted from his body and sought to join with hers. The ball of her thumb trailed over the back of his hand once more, an idle touch that gave her more time to think before she acted. Did she want Zoser? Before tonight, she wasn’t sure what that answer would have been. He was kind and gentle, handsome in a rather dignified way, but he was a far cry from the sort of man Nia had always been prone to chase. But then, wasn’t that a good thing? The sorts of men the young noblewoman tended to attract always left her heartbroken and disappointed in the end—a wild ride with an anticlimactic conclusion every time.
But Zoser was different. He was a calm, steadying force in her life, a source of strength and wisdom where Nia had none. He knew her most intimate secret and helped her fabricate ways to keep that secret from those who could destroy her with it. The scribe always found a way to make her smile and lighten her spirits even when they lingered in the darkest of places. She cared little for their difference in status or the gap in their ages. So, why then should she turn him away?
Because it could get us both killed.
It was dangerous for any man to take a liking to her now while she lingered in the vice-like grasp of the Pharaoh. He was a powerful man with powerful urges and a possessiveness that promised violent retribution for anyone who dared to touch what he considered his ‘property.’ Iahotep never hesitated to remind her that’s what she was—his toy and his alone, and woe be to any who thought to prove otherwise. Should he ever discover that her heart lingered with another, she had no doubt of the reckoning that would follow.
By that logic, she should have dropped Zoser’s hand and stepped away, seeking out the kittens that she’d asked for and forgetting the heat that sparked between them. But Nia was desperate for a gentle touch, desperate for a man who would hold her and caress her rather than beat and abuse her. It had been too long since she’d felt any hand but Iahotep’s, and the promise of something so drastically different…
She did not pull away.
Instead, her eyes locked with his, a trembling hand reaching up to drift across his face. Hardly knowing what she was doing while simultaneously remaining far too aware, Nia leaned in closer, her body pressing tightly to his. Her gaze drifted downward to his lips and in the timeless second that stretched between her heart’s beating, she closed the distance between them with the brush of her mouth against his.
The contact lasted for only a few moments before she returned to reality, gasping and pulling back while the hand on his face flew to cover her mouth. Wide-eyed, she stared up at him in disbelief at what she’d done—speechless in that protracted silence as she tried to think of what she could possibly say.
Finally, what she managed was a whisper, a tiny exclamation of, “Uh-oh,” whose softness nearly echoed in the bated silence of the archives.
The lingering touch, the heated look, the answering sheen of tears in his eyes… all of this told Nia that the confusing mixture of emotions broiling in her chest did not go unreciprocated—something she was unsure how to receive. This hardly seemed the time or place for such feelings, but when did the whims of the heart ever choose convenience? Carefully accepting his hand so she could pull herself to her feet, Nia was slow to remove her fingers from Zoser’s grasp. Instead, she threaded them through his with a gentle squeeze, offering a hesitant smile before dusting off the floor’s debris from her kalasiris.
Straightening back up, she took a step closer, a step that was almost unconscious in its intent. Why she was drifting inward instead of pulling back, she wasn’t quite sure, but even with the warnings of danger screaming through her head, she stayed where she was. His response about the cats was forgotten as soon as he said it, their proximity putting the kittens far from her mind, even if she’d been the one to ask about them.
His fingers were warm in hers, warm as the heat that drifted from his body and sought to join with hers. The ball of her thumb trailed over the back of his hand once more, an idle touch that gave her more time to think before she acted. Did she want Zoser? Before tonight, she wasn’t sure what that answer would have been. He was kind and gentle, handsome in a rather dignified way, but he was a far cry from the sort of man Nia had always been prone to chase. But then, wasn’t that a good thing? The sorts of men the young noblewoman tended to attract always left her heartbroken and disappointed in the end—a wild ride with an anticlimactic conclusion every time.
But Zoser was different. He was a calm, steadying force in her life, a source of strength and wisdom where Nia had none. He knew her most intimate secret and helped her fabricate ways to keep that secret from those who could destroy her with it. The scribe always found a way to make her smile and lighten her spirits even when they lingered in the darkest of places. She cared little for their difference in status or the gap in their ages. So, why then should she turn him away?
Because it could get us both killed.
It was dangerous for any man to take a liking to her now while she lingered in the vice-like grasp of the Pharaoh. He was a powerful man with powerful urges and a possessiveness that promised violent retribution for anyone who dared to touch what he considered his ‘property.’ Iahotep never hesitated to remind her that’s what she was—his toy and his alone, and woe be to any who thought to prove otherwise. Should he ever discover that her heart lingered with another, she had no doubt of the reckoning that would follow.
By that logic, she should have dropped Zoser’s hand and stepped away, seeking out the kittens that she’d asked for and forgetting the heat that sparked between them. But Nia was desperate for a gentle touch, desperate for a man who would hold her and caress her rather than beat and abuse her. It had been too long since she’d felt any hand but Iahotep’s, and the promise of something so drastically different…
She did not pull away.
Instead, her eyes locked with his, a trembling hand reaching up to drift across his face. Hardly knowing what she was doing while simultaneously remaining far too aware, Nia leaned in closer, her body pressing tightly to his. Her gaze drifted downward to his lips and in the timeless second that stretched between her heart’s beating, she closed the distance between them with the brush of her mouth against his.
The contact lasted for only a few moments before she returned to reality, gasping and pulling back while the hand on his face flew to cover her mouth. Wide-eyed, she stared up at him in disbelief at what she’d done—speechless in that protracted silence as she tried to think of what she could possibly say.
Finally, what she managed was a whisper, a tiny exclamation of, “Uh-oh,” whose softness nearly echoed in the bated silence of the archives.
From the moment she stood, time seemed to stop entirely. The two of them were frozen in a moment, their breath almost stilled like a shroud as well, the only signs of life being the warmth pressed between their hands.
Mortal instincts seemed to clamor to the forefront, wanting to remove the thoughts and warnings of the mind from the picture entirely and succumb to its own desires.
Neithotep was beautiful, but even that word felt too light. While blessings from the gods were not often thought of in Egypt, it was commonly believed in Greece that men and women of great beauty had been touched by a god or goddess who favored them. Knowing that her beauty was inherited from her mother, Iaheru, was one thing but as he looked down on her face, even as the beginnings of a bruise started to form beneath her cheekbone, Zoser thought her blessed with great, divine beauty.
It was once she opened her eyes that he felt much like a child that was caught peeping through a window. His eyes had lingered on her face in that still moment still, and only seeming to realize it all a moment too late as her fingertips traced along his cheek.
Zoser was an experienced man with a storied history of bedroom conquests, both free and paid for, so his body was more than attuned to the natural dance of attraction between himself and another. The feeling was overpowering in many ways, and he was quite skilled at resisting things when they became particularly bad ideas.
This was a bad idea.
What he should have done was pull away, to say her name in a tone of warning, to talk sense between them and lead her on to see the kittens on whatever shelf they were climbing and destroying. Instead, as she leaned forward, his eyes closed indulgently as their lips met.
It was a chaste kiss, particularly so knowing what she must have just experienced at the hand of another. The thought provided the strongest bit of resistance into the fight between mind and body. Still, with only that newer introduction of resistance pitted against the experience of bodily desire, there could only be one victor.
As his hands drifted toward her shoulders, barely touching yet seeming to cage her body in its place close to his, their fronts pressing together in an almost featherlight manner, it was clear which side won.
The softest pop of their mouths separating let his eyes flutter open in a few blinks, taking in her expression and wide-eyes as he blinked silently for a few moments. He seemed to stop breathing a moment, but in a soft exhale, he replied in a hushed whisper.
"Uh-oh is right..."
With the slightest dip of his head, their lips met again. This time, the kiss was allowed to linger a bit longer, a breath or two passing between them. It was a tame yet wanting kiss that could have lingered on had resistance not made a surprise attack in his mind, and broke the kiss again with a few heavy breaths as the lingering after effects of it.
As they parted, his forehead pressed to hers, his eyes facing down a moment as he tried to compose himself. It was as if his forehead against hers and the two hands he had now palms flat against the tops of her shoulders were new barricades, stopping desire following through with its plans
"This..."
He murmured, his voice thick as if he was trying to learn a new language after drinking a glass of honey. He swallowed a moment, trying again to find his voice of reason and bring to to his lips.
"...is a bad idea" he said, knowing that his words faltered as his body and mind still warred with one another. He could not look at her, knowing that for their safety, he had to give resistance a fighting chance, "I could not bear being a part of anything that could bring any more harm to you, whether by my own doing or that of anyone who should dare see this and use it."
It was then that he chanced a glance back up to her, meeting her eyes.
They were so beautiful.
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From the moment she stood, time seemed to stop entirely. The two of them were frozen in a moment, their breath almost stilled like a shroud as well, the only signs of life being the warmth pressed between their hands.
Mortal instincts seemed to clamor to the forefront, wanting to remove the thoughts and warnings of the mind from the picture entirely and succumb to its own desires.
Neithotep was beautiful, but even that word felt too light. While blessings from the gods were not often thought of in Egypt, it was commonly believed in Greece that men and women of great beauty had been touched by a god or goddess who favored them. Knowing that her beauty was inherited from her mother, Iaheru, was one thing but as he looked down on her face, even as the beginnings of a bruise started to form beneath her cheekbone, Zoser thought her blessed with great, divine beauty.
It was once she opened her eyes that he felt much like a child that was caught peeping through a window. His eyes had lingered on her face in that still moment still, and only seeming to realize it all a moment too late as her fingertips traced along his cheek.
Zoser was an experienced man with a storied history of bedroom conquests, both free and paid for, so his body was more than attuned to the natural dance of attraction between himself and another. The feeling was overpowering in many ways, and he was quite skilled at resisting things when they became particularly bad ideas.
This was a bad idea.
What he should have done was pull away, to say her name in a tone of warning, to talk sense between them and lead her on to see the kittens on whatever shelf they were climbing and destroying. Instead, as she leaned forward, his eyes closed indulgently as their lips met.
It was a chaste kiss, particularly so knowing what she must have just experienced at the hand of another. The thought provided the strongest bit of resistance into the fight between mind and body. Still, with only that newer introduction of resistance pitted against the experience of bodily desire, there could only be one victor.
As his hands drifted toward her shoulders, barely touching yet seeming to cage her body in its place close to his, their fronts pressing together in an almost featherlight manner, it was clear which side won.
The softest pop of their mouths separating let his eyes flutter open in a few blinks, taking in her expression and wide-eyes as he blinked silently for a few moments. He seemed to stop breathing a moment, but in a soft exhale, he replied in a hushed whisper.
"Uh-oh is right..."
With the slightest dip of his head, their lips met again. This time, the kiss was allowed to linger a bit longer, a breath or two passing between them. It was a tame yet wanting kiss that could have lingered on had resistance not made a surprise attack in his mind, and broke the kiss again with a few heavy breaths as the lingering after effects of it.
As they parted, his forehead pressed to hers, his eyes facing down a moment as he tried to compose himself. It was as if his forehead against hers and the two hands he had now palms flat against the tops of her shoulders were new barricades, stopping desire following through with its plans
"This..."
He murmured, his voice thick as if he was trying to learn a new language after drinking a glass of honey. He swallowed a moment, trying again to find his voice of reason and bring to to his lips.
"...is a bad idea" he said, knowing that his words faltered as his body and mind still warred with one another. He could not look at her, knowing that for their safety, he had to give resistance a fighting chance, "I could not bear being a part of anything that could bring any more harm to you, whether by my own doing or that of anyone who should dare see this and use it."
It was then that he chanced a glance back up to her, meeting her eyes.
They were so beautiful.
From the moment she stood, time seemed to stop entirely. The two of them were frozen in a moment, their breath almost stilled like a shroud as well, the only signs of life being the warmth pressed between their hands.
Mortal instincts seemed to clamor to the forefront, wanting to remove the thoughts and warnings of the mind from the picture entirely and succumb to its own desires.
Neithotep was beautiful, but even that word felt too light. While blessings from the gods were not often thought of in Egypt, it was commonly believed in Greece that men and women of great beauty had been touched by a god or goddess who favored them. Knowing that her beauty was inherited from her mother, Iaheru, was one thing but as he looked down on her face, even as the beginnings of a bruise started to form beneath her cheekbone, Zoser thought her blessed with great, divine beauty.
It was once she opened her eyes that he felt much like a child that was caught peeping through a window. His eyes had lingered on her face in that still moment still, and only seeming to realize it all a moment too late as her fingertips traced along his cheek.
Zoser was an experienced man with a storied history of bedroom conquests, both free and paid for, so his body was more than attuned to the natural dance of attraction between himself and another. The feeling was overpowering in many ways, and he was quite skilled at resisting things when they became particularly bad ideas.
This was a bad idea.
What he should have done was pull away, to say her name in a tone of warning, to talk sense between them and lead her on to see the kittens on whatever shelf they were climbing and destroying. Instead, as she leaned forward, his eyes closed indulgently as their lips met.
It was a chaste kiss, particularly so knowing what she must have just experienced at the hand of another. The thought provided the strongest bit of resistance into the fight between mind and body. Still, with only that newer introduction of resistance pitted against the experience of bodily desire, there could only be one victor.
As his hands drifted toward her shoulders, barely touching yet seeming to cage her body in its place close to his, their fronts pressing together in an almost featherlight manner, it was clear which side won.
The softest pop of their mouths separating let his eyes flutter open in a few blinks, taking in her expression and wide-eyes as he blinked silently for a few moments. He seemed to stop breathing a moment, but in a soft exhale, he replied in a hushed whisper.
"Uh-oh is right..."
With the slightest dip of his head, their lips met again. This time, the kiss was allowed to linger a bit longer, a breath or two passing between them. It was a tame yet wanting kiss that could have lingered on had resistance not made a surprise attack in his mind, and broke the kiss again with a few heavy breaths as the lingering after effects of it.
As they parted, his forehead pressed to hers, his eyes facing down a moment as he tried to compose himself. It was as if his forehead against hers and the two hands he had now palms flat against the tops of her shoulders were new barricades, stopping desire following through with its plans
"This..."
He murmured, his voice thick as if he was trying to learn a new language after drinking a glass of honey. He swallowed a moment, trying again to find his voice of reason and bring to to his lips.
"...is a bad idea" he said, knowing that his words faltered as his body and mind still warred with one another. He could not look at her, knowing that for their safety, he had to give resistance a fighting chance, "I could not bear being a part of anything that could bring any more harm to you, whether by my own doing or that of anyone who should dare see this and use it."
It was then that he chanced a glance back up to her, meeting her eyes.
They were so beautiful.
“You’re right. This is a bad idea.”
Her words were hardly more than a whisper, but even as she said them, she didn’t move away. The fact that Zoser had kissed her again rather than sending her out had only encouraged the hesitant smolder of her desire, and her eyes continued to linger on his mouth.
“It’s reckless, it’s dangerous, and it could get us both into a lot of trouble. And yet…”
The knuckle of Nia’s forefinger drifted down his jaw to stop at his chin, only pulling her hand away with a massive force of will. She longed to sink her fingers into his hair, to pull him back to her and kiss him in earnest until they were both flushed and gasping. Instead, her hands merely drifted down his arms until they caught his, tangling their fingers and securing him in her grasp.
“If you tell me you do not want me, I will go and never speak of this again. It’s probably better that way, and you and I both know it. But before you send me off, I just want…”
Biting her lip, Nia warred with herself on what to say. She was unsure how to put what she felt into words and even more unsure what the outcome of those words might be. It was obvious she was not the only one here with dangerous feelings, but should she fan the flames or quell them entirely?
She knew what she should do. But that didn’t mean she would.
“Zoser, I…” Nia trailed off, trying to arrange her thoughts into something resembling coherence before she spilled them all. Glancing away, she finally murmured, “It’s been so long since someone has kissed me and meant it.”
After a pause, she forced herself to look at him again, a dreadful hope daring to color her features. “I’ve had dozens of lovers over the years; I do not deny that my reputation is well-earned. But of those dozens, there were two, maybe three, that ever actually really cared. For most, I was nothing but an object to them, a pretty conquest that was easily forgotten by the next week. But you…”
Her grip on his hands tightened, bringing one up to her face and holding it there. “You look at me and you actually see me. You talk to me and listen to me like I’m an actual person, not a toy or a nuisance. When I’m with you, I can… forget things, at least for a little while. There are times when I actually look forward to the Pharaoh’s summons because I know that I will see you after. It doesn’t make it all worth it, exactly, but it makes things… bearable.”
Once it all started falling from her lips, she couldn’t seem to make it stop, a shine in her eyes that lit her words as truth like nothing else could. “I think about you all the time. Things will happen throughout the day and all I can think is, ‘I can’t wait to tell Zoser about this.’ I don’t remember the last time I felt that way about anyone, and…”
She trailed off, biting her lip again. Closing her eyes, she leaned into the touch of their conjoined hands with a soft sigh.
“You’re the best part of my life, Zoser. Before you send me away, I just want you to know that.”
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“You’re right. This is a bad idea.”
Her words were hardly more than a whisper, but even as she said them, she didn’t move away. The fact that Zoser had kissed her again rather than sending her out had only encouraged the hesitant smolder of her desire, and her eyes continued to linger on his mouth.
“It’s reckless, it’s dangerous, and it could get us both into a lot of trouble. And yet…”
The knuckle of Nia’s forefinger drifted down his jaw to stop at his chin, only pulling her hand away with a massive force of will. She longed to sink her fingers into his hair, to pull him back to her and kiss him in earnest until they were both flushed and gasping. Instead, her hands merely drifted down his arms until they caught his, tangling their fingers and securing him in her grasp.
“If you tell me you do not want me, I will go and never speak of this again. It’s probably better that way, and you and I both know it. But before you send me off, I just want…”
Biting her lip, Nia warred with herself on what to say. She was unsure how to put what she felt into words and even more unsure what the outcome of those words might be. It was obvious she was not the only one here with dangerous feelings, but should she fan the flames or quell them entirely?
She knew what she should do. But that didn’t mean she would.
“Zoser, I…” Nia trailed off, trying to arrange her thoughts into something resembling coherence before she spilled them all. Glancing away, she finally murmured, “It’s been so long since someone has kissed me and meant it.”
After a pause, she forced herself to look at him again, a dreadful hope daring to color her features. “I’ve had dozens of lovers over the years; I do not deny that my reputation is well-earned. But of those dozens, there were two, maybe three, that ever actually really cared. For most, I was nothing but an object to them, a pretty conquest that was easily forgotten by the next week. But you…”
Her grip on his hands tightened, bringing one up to her face and holding it there. “You look at me and you actually see me. You talk to me and listen to me like I’m an actual person, not a toy or a nuisance. When I’m with you, I can… forget things, at least for a little while. There are times when I actually look forward to the Pharaoh’s summons because I know that I will see you after. It doesn’t make it all worth it, exactly, but it makes things… bearable.”
Once it all started falling from her lips, she couldn’t seem to make it stop, a shine in her eyes that lit her words as truth like nothing else could. “I think about you all the time. Things will happen throughout the day and all I can think is, ‘I can’t wait to tell Zoser about this.’ I don’t remember the last time I felt that way about anyone, and…”
She trailed off, biting her lip again. Closing her eyes, she leaned into the touch of their conjoined hands with a soft sigh.
“You’re the best part of my life, Zoser. Before you send me away, I just want you to know that.”
“You’re right. This is a bad idea.”
Her words were hardly more than a whisper, but even as she said them, she didn’t move away. The fact that Zoser had kissed her again rather than sending her out had only encouraged the hesitant smolder of her desire, and her eyes continued to linger on his mouth.
“It’s reckless, it’s dangerous, and it could get us both into a lot of trouble. And yet…”
The knuckle of Nia’s forefinger drifted down his jaw to stop at his chin, only pulling her hand away with a massive force of will. She longed to sink her fingers into his hair, to pull him back to her and kiss him in earnest until they were both flushed and gasping. Instead, her hands merely drifted down his arms until they caught his, tangling their fingers and securing him in her grasp.
“If you tell me you do not want me, I will go and never speak of this again. It’s probably better that way, and you and I both know it. But before you send me off, I just want…”
Biting her lip, Nia warred with herself on what to say. She was unsure how to put what she felt into words and even more unsure what the outcome of those words might be. It was obvious she was not the only one here with dangerous feelings, but should she fan the flames or quell them entirely?
She knew what she should do. But that didn’t mean she would.
“Zoser, I…” Nia trailed off, trying to arrange her thoughts into something resembling coherence before she spilled them all. Glancing away, she finally murmured, “It’s been so long since someone has kissed me and meant it.”
After a pause, she forced herself to look at him again, a dreadful hope daring to color her features. “I’ve had dozens of lovers over the years; I do not deny that my reputation is well-earned. But of those dozens, there were two, maybe three, that ever actually really cared. For most, I was nothing but an object to them, a pretty conquest that was easily forgotten by the next week. But you…”
Her grip on his hands tightened, bringing one up to her face and holding it there. “You look at me and you actually see me. You talk to me and listen to me like I’m an actual person, not a toy or a nuisance. When I’m with you, I can… forget things, at least for a little while. There are times when I actually look forward to the Pharaoh’s summons because I know that I will see you after. It doesn’t make it all worth it, exactly, but it makes things… bearable.”
Once it all started falling from her lips, she couldn’t seem to make it stop, a shine in her eyes that lit her words as truth like nothing else could. “I think about you all the time. Things will happen throughout the day and all I can think is, ‘I can’t wait to tell Zoser about this.’ I don’t remember the last time I felt that way about anyone, and…”
She trailed off, biting her lip again. Closing her eyes, she leaned into the touch of their conjoined hands with a soft sigh.
“You’re the best part of my life, Zoser. Before you send me away, I just want you to know that.”
There was the oddest sense of relief as she repeated back the truth of it all, and he all but nodded with her words as she labeled what they did as reckless and dangerous. If the bruises on her face and body were trophies of the Pharaoh's pleasure with her, then he could hardly imagine what he would leave to mark his displeasure.
That thought disappeared ever so slightly as her finger traced along his jaw, causing his eyes to close very briefly at the touch. He was no blushing virgin or a monk, but for some reason, her touch seemed to carry more heat, leaving a trail were her fingertips carved invisible path through the course hair of his beard.
'And yet...'
There was always a 'but' or a 'yet' that spelled trouble when posed against logical choices. His mouth nearly opened to oppose whatever it was she was going to propose but closed again as she went on. In that moment, she made sense. If they parted ways now, forgot the kisses they shared and the way that his fingers occasionally stroked a small circle against the backs of her hands as he seemed to hold her both near and away from him, then they could potentially move on without any repercussions. No one had seen them in this moment. They were safe, for now.
He had half a mind not to let her continue and to agree to that, but as she stumbled on her words, his brows pinched upward in interest and concern. As she bit her lip, he wanted to stop her from doing so, as the split left there from a few nights before had yet to heal. It could open again and sting, potentially bleeding once more. He had offered her melted beeswax to cover the split, giving it time to heal and to keep it from stinging so harshly against the elements.
The words spilled from her, some linking clearly and others entirely tangental. Each time she said something he thought about opposing - humor being his usual go to, he had to silence himself. He wanted to interrupt four or five times but she kept going. She would not be stopped, and honestly, knowing what she had been through he could not blame her. How long had it been since she had some semblance of control or autonomy or voice before the Pharaoh stripped it away?
His attempts to pause her stopped as soon as she began to speak of him. For a moment, it felt as if she spoke of someone else so kindly, and his face bore an emotion around the eyes that proved her words managed to strike a mark within him.
If it was true, if he brought her that sort of comfort - as incredulous as it seemed in his mind - then, the worst thing he could do would be to take that away from her. Selfishly, too, he did not like the idea of being away from her and not being able to offer her some comfort. He knew her family and how the divisions and fractures over the passing year or so had caused their connection to wane with one another.
And, to admit it, he was lonely. He had been less lonely with her. He did not want that to change.
Beyond that, he cared about her. Deeply. Surprisingly.
Though their hands were conjoined, he still separated one pair, bringing his hand up to gently cup her cheek once again, bringing their foreheads to touch a moment as he found his words.
"I will not send you away," he whispered, their faces close enough to feel their breaths mix, "Not like that." He took a deep breath and lifted his forehead from hers so he could see her eyes, a various flickering of emotions passing carelessly across his face - frustration, desire, happiness, sorrow, concern - all mixing and blending like inks poured in water, clouding it and creating another color before dwindling into muddy confusion.
The hand that cupped her cheek soon moved to pulled down across his face once and then up through his hair again as he tried to collect some semblance of rational thought, looking skyward then to the shelves beside them then to her face again, as if seeking the right thing to say written on the wall.
"I do not deserve your words, or your thoughts, or your feelings in such a way," he started, knowing that each word he said did not sound right in the context and scrunching his face in a grimace as he tried to find the way to say what he thought without offending.
He feared she was falling for him, which was hilariously contradictory, given that he had fallen for her weeks ago and had been more than satisfied with being a confidante and nothing more. It was far easier in many ways to pine and lust after something if it was kept behind glass. Now, her words and the intimacy they had just shared removed the safety and security of the clear barrier between them, shattering it like crystal across the floor at their feet.
That was what made this almost more dangerous than if the Pharaoh's discovered them. A primitive, possessive fling was one thing. Deep care for the other, bordering on words he would not ever say aloud if he could help it, was far more terrifying. That she could feel for him the way that he had come to feel for her was more terrifying than every blade pointed at his throat.
"I cherish them, though," he murmured, eyes closed as he did so, "I do not possess many fine things in this life, but knowing that...this is how you feel. It is finer and more precious to me than any jewel of the Nile." He took a breath and opened his eyes to see her still standing there before him as the last few words escaped him in the quietest tones yet, "For that is how I feel about you as well."
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There was the oddest sense of relief as she repeated back the truth of it all, and he all but nodded with her words as she labeled what they did as reckless and dangerous. If the bruises on her face and body were trophies of the Pharaoh's pleasure with her, then he could hardly imagine what he would leave to mark his displeasure.
That thought disappeared ever so slightly as her finger traced along his jaw, causing his eyes to close very briefly at the touch. He was no blushing virgin or a monk, but for some reason, her touch seemed to carry more heat, leaving a trail were her fingertips carved invisible path through the course hair of his beard.
'And yet...'
There was always a 'but' or a 'yet' that spelled trouble when posed against logical choices. His mouth nearly opened to oppose whatever it was she was going to propose but closed again as she went on. In that moment, she made sense. If they parted ways now, forgot the kisses they shared and the way that his fingers occasionally stroked a small circle against the backs of her hands as he seemed to hold her both near and away from him, then they could potentially move on without any repercussions. No one had seen them in this moment. They were safe, for now.
He had half a mind not to let her continue and to agree to that, but as she stumbled on her words, his brows pinched upward in interest and concern. As she bit her lip, he wanted to stop her from doing so, as the split left there from a few nights before had yet to heal. It could open again and sting, potentially bleeding once more. He had offered her melted beeswax to cover the split, giving it time to heal and to keep it from stinging so harshly against the elements.
The words spilled from her, some linking clearly and others entirely tangental. Each time she said something he thought about opposing - humor being his usual go to, he had to silence himself. He wanted to interrupt four or five times but she kept going. She would not be stopped, and honestly, knowing what she had been through he could not blame her. How long had it been since she had some semblance of control or autonomy or voice before the Pharaoh stripped it away?
His attempts to pause her stopped as soon as she began to speak of him. For a moment, it felt as if she spoke of someone else so kindly, and his face bore an emotion around the eyes that proved her words managed to strike a mark within him.
If it was true, if he brought her that sort of comfort - as incredulous as it seemed in his mind - then, the worst thing he could do would be to take that away from her. Selfishly, too, he did not like the idea of being away from her and not being able to offer her some comfort. He knew her family and how the divisions and fractures over the passing year or so had caused their connection to wane with one another.
And, to admit it, he was lonely. He had been less lonely with her. He did not want that to change.
Beyond that, he cared about her. Deeply. Surprisingly.
Though their hands were conjoined, he still separated one pair, bringing his hand up to gently cup her cheek once again, bringing their foreheads to touch a moment as he found his words.
"I will not send you away," he whispered, their faces close enough to feel their breaths mix, "Not like that." He took a deep breath and lifted his forehead from hers so he could see her eyes, a various flickering of emotions passing carelessly across his face - frustration, desire, happiness, sorrow, concern - all mixing and blending like inks poured in water, clouding it and creating another color before dwindling into muddy confusion.
The hand that cupped her cheek soon moved to pulled down across his face once and then up through his hair again as he tried to collect some semblance of rational thought, looking skyward then to the shelves beside them then to her face again, as if seeking the right thing to say written on the wall.
"I do not deserve your words, or your thoughts, or your feelings in such a way," he started, knowing that each word he said did not sound right in the context and scrunching his face in a grimace as he tried to find the way to say what he thought without offending.
He feared she was falling for him, which was hilariously contradictory, given that he had fallen for her weeks ago and had been more than satisfied with being a confidante and nothing more. It was far easier in many ways to pine and lust after something if it was kept behind glass. Now, her words and the intimacy they had just shared removed the safety and security of the clear barrier between them, shattering it like crystal across the floor at their feet.
That was what made this almost more dangerous than if the Pharaoh's discovered them. A primitive, possessive fling was one thing. Deep care for the other, bordering on words he would not ever say aloud if he could help it, was far more terrifying. That she could feel for him the way that he had come to feel for her was more terrifying than every blade pointed at his throat.
"I cherish them, though," he murmured, eyes closed as he did so, "I do not possess many fine things in this life, but knowing that...this is how you feel. It is finer and more precious to me than any jewel of the Nile." He took a breath and opened his eyes to see her still standing there before him as the last few words escaped him in the quietest tones yet, "For that is how I feel about you as well."
There was the oddest sense of relief as she repeated back the truth of it all, and he all but nodded with her words as she labeled what they did as reckless and dangerous. If the bruises on her face and body were trophies of the Pharaoh's pleasure with her, then he could hardly imagine what he would leave to mark his displeasure.
That thought disappeared ever so slightly as her finger traced along his jaw, causing his eyes to close very briefly at the touch. He was no blushing virgin or a monk, but for some reason, her touch seemed to carry more heat, leaving a trail were her fingertips carved invisible path through the course hair of his beard.
'And yet...'
There was always a 'but' or a 'yet' that spelled trouble when posed against logical choices. His mouth nearly opened to oppose whatever it was she was going to propose but closed again as she went on. In that moment, she made sense. If they parted ways now, forgot the kisses they shared and the way that his fingers occasionally stroked a small circle against the backs of her hands as he seemed to hold her both near and away from him, then they could potentially move on without any repercussions. No one had seen them in this moment. They were safe, for now.
He had half a mind not to let her continue and to agree to that, but as she stumbled on her words, his brows pinched upward in interest and concern. As she bit her lip, he wanted to stop her from doing so, as the split left there from a few nights before had yet to heal. It could open again and sting, potentially bleeding once more. He had offered her melted beeswax to cover the split, giving it time to heal and to keep it from stinging so harshly against the elements.
The words spilled from her, some linking clearly and others entirely tangental. Each time she said something he thought about opposing - humor being his usual go to, he had to silence himself. He wanted to interrupt four or five times but she kept going. She would not be stopped, and honestly, knowing what she had been through he could not blame her. How long had it been since she had some semblance of control or autonomy or voice before the Pharaoh stripped it away?
His attempts to pause her stopped as soon as she began to speak of him. For a moment, it felt as if she spoke of someone else so kindly, and his face bore an emotion around the eyes that proved her words managed to strike a mark within him.
If it was true, if he brought her that sort of comfort - as incredulous as it seemed in his mind - then, the worst thing he could do would be to take that away from her. Selfishly, too, he did not like the idea of being away from her and not being able to offer her some comfort. He knew her family and how the divisions and fractures over the passing year or so had caused their connection to wane with one another.
And, to admit it, he was lonely. He had been less lonely with her. He did not want that to change.
Beyond that, he cared about her. Deeply. Surprisingly.
Though their hands were conjoined, he still separated one pair, bringing his hand up to gently cup her cheek once again, bringing their foreheads to touch a moment as he found his words.
"I will not send you away," he whispered, their faces close enough to feel their breaths mix, "Not like that." He took a deep breath and lifted his forehead from hers so he could see her eyes, a various flickering of emotions passing carelessly across his face - frustration, desire, happiness, sorrow, concern - all mixing and blending like inks poured in water, clouding it and creating another color before dwindling into muddy confusion.
The hand that cupped her cheek soon moved to pulled down across his face once and then up through his hair again as he tried to collect some semblance of rational thought, looking skyward then to the shelves beside them then to her face again, as if seeking the right thing to say written on the wall.
"I do not deserve your words, or your thoughts, or your feelings in such a way," he started, knowing that each word he said did not sound right in the context and scrunching his face in a grimace as he tried to find the way to say what he thought without offending.
He feared she was falling for him, which was hilariously contradictory, given that he had fallen for her weeks ago and had been more than satisfied with being a confidante and nothing more. It was far easier in many ways to pine and lust after something if it was kept behind glass. Now, her words and the intimacy they had just shared removed the safety and security of the clear barrier between them, shattering it like crystal across the floor at their feet.
That was what made this almost more dangerous than if the Pharaoh's discovered them. A primitive, possessive fling was one thing. Deep care for the other, bordering on words he would not ever say aloud if he could help it, was far more terrifying. That she could feel for him the way that he had come to feel for her was more terrifying than every blade pointed at his throat.
"I cherish them, though," he murmured, eyes closed as he did so, "I do not possess many fine things in this life, but knowing that...this is how you feel. It is finer and more precious to me than any jewel of the Nile." He took a breath and opened his eyes to see her still standing there before him as the last few words escaped him in the quietest tones yet, "For that is how I feel about you as well."
Nia watched the play of emotions over Zoser’s face as she spoke, hanging on every subtle change in expression, all the while expecting the sweetness to cloud to anger, for him to push her away and usher her out the door with firm words of remonstration that she should have dared to utter such blasphemy.
That’s what should have happened. In a sane, rational world where humans are not ruled by their emotions, and people make choices based on what’s in their best interest, that’s what would have happened.
Needless to say, that’s not what happened.
When he finally spoke, the young lady of Hei Sheifa thought her heart might stop. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it certainly wasn’t this. Zoser had been a calm and steady influence in her life, a bolstering force against the storm, an anchor to keep her ship from overturning. The last thing she had expected was to fall for him, and certainly not for him to fall for her in return. She was used to the lustful gazes of older men, but never once before tonight had she caught even a hint of that from the scribe. But now that she had…
For that is how I feel about you, as well.
Her mouth dropped open ever so slightly, but no words fell from it. Every instinct within screamed at her to tell him to take it back, to step away and run out the door before this all collapsed into ruin. The position she occupied was precarious at best, and to pull Zoser into her sphere of trouble even more than she already had… It was madness. Unthinkable, inconsiderate, dangerous.
But, as she so often seemed to do, she ignored her instincts. She shoved those voices to the back of her head, a warmth filling her chest that overcame even the balmy night outside. One of her hands rose to rest against where his heart beat, feeling the chaotic thrum beneath her fingers that mirrored the erratic pulse of her own. So different from the last heart that beat against hers.
Eyes filled with tears again, her head tilted back to meet his gaze. She had no other words that she could say, the most dangerous ones lingering on the tip of her tongue, but they were the ones she didn’t dare utter. This night had complicated things enough, and to complicate them further would be signing her and Zoser’s writs of execution.
The hand on his chest shook, slowly moving up to his neck, across his jaw, and stopping at his cheek where her fingers nestled in the scratchy hair of his beard. Such an unusual thing to find on an Egyptian man’s face, though she didn’t mind. Besides, Zoser seemed as much Greek as he was Egyptian, and she knew from repeated experience that Greeks did not feel the same way about body hair that Egyptians did. For now, at least, it gave her hand something to do while she fought through the wave of emotion that threatened to drown her.
Another kiss was pressed to his lips, trembling breath whispering across his face. She did not let it linger overlong for both their sakes, though different instincts were roaring to life beneath the surface. They were instincts she could not give into, not now while fresh bruises blossomed across her flesh and her joints ached and protested from their recent misuse. She wanted nothing more than for Zoser’s touch to erase the Pharaoh’s, but she could not lay beneath him when every touch made her want to cry out with pain. Their first time… they both deserved better than this.
“My heart swells to hear you say such things,” she finally murmured, pulling back from the kiss, though their bodies still remained but inches apart. Both hands now lingered on his face, fingertips trailing through the scruff on his cheeks. “But if you speak another word, we will turn a corner that we can’t turn back from. And while I desperately want to turn that corner… tonight… it is not the night.”
Her touch lingered for another long moment while she firmly scolded herself to release him and walk out the door. After several agonizing seconds, she finally let her hands drop to her sides and took a step back with a shuddering breath. “Goodnight, Zoser,” she whispered, her gaze catching and holding his with an unspoken promise. For a moment, she started to reach out to him again before she balled her fist and tucked her hand within the other’s grasp. “Until next time.”
The retreating sound of her footsteps echoed down the hall, but not as loudly as the words left unspoken between them.
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Nia watched the play of emotions over Zoser’s face as she spoke, hanging on every subtle change in expression, all the while expecting the sweetness to cloud to anger, for him to push her away and usher her out the door with firm words of remonstration that she should have dared to utter such blasphemy.
That’s what should have happened. In a sane, rational world where humans are not ruled by their emotions, and people make choices based on what’s in their best interest, that’s what would have happened.
Needless to say, that’s not what happened.
When he finally spoke, the young lady of Hei Sheifa thought her heart might stop. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it certainly wasn’t this. Zoser had been a calm and steady influence in her life, a bolstering force against the storm, an anchor to keep her ship from overturning. The last thing she had expected was to fall for him, and certainly not for him to fall for her in return. She was used to the lustful gazes of older men, but never once before tonight had she caught even a hint of that from the scribe. But now that she had…
For that is how I feel about you, as well.
Her mouth dropped open ever so slightly, but no words fell from it. Every instinct within screamed at her to tell him to take it back, to step away and run out the door before this all collapsed into ruin. The position she occupied was precarious at best, and to pull Zoser into her sphere of trouble even more than she already had… It was madness. Unthinkable, inconsiderate, dangerous.
But, as she so often seemed to do, she ignored her instincts. She shoved those voices to the back of her head, a warmth filling her chest that overcame even the balmy night outside. One of her hands rose to rest against where his heart beat, feeling the chaotic thrum beneath her fingers that mirrored the erratic pulse of her own. So different from the last heart that beat against hers.
Eyes filled with tears again, her head tilted back to meet his gaze. She had no other words that she could say, the most dangerous ones lingering on the tip of her tongue, but they were the ones she didn’t dare utter. This night had complicated things enough, and to complicate them further would be signing her and Zoser’s writs of execution.
The hand on his chest shook, slowly moving up to his neck, across his jaw, and stopping at his cheek where her fingers nestled in the scratchy hair of his beard. Such an unusual thing to find on an Egyptian man’s face, though she didn’t mind. Besides, Zoser seemed as much Greek as he was Egyptian, and she knew from repeated experience that Greeks did not feel the same way about body hair that Egyptians did. For now, at least, it gave her hand something to do while she fought through the wave of emotion that threatened to drown her.
Another kiss was pressed to his lips, trembling breath whispering across his face. She did not let it linger overlong for both their sakes, though different instincts were roaring to life beneath the surface. They were instincts she could not give into, not now while fresh bruises blossomed across her flesh and her joints ached and protested from their recent misuse. She wanted nothing more than for Zoser’s touch to erase the Pharaoh’s, but she could not lay beneath him when every touch made her want to cry out with pain. Their first time… they both deserved better than this.
“My heart swells to hear you say such things,” she finally murmured, pulling back from the kiss, though their bodies still remained but inches apart. Both hands now lingered on his face, fingertips trailing through the scruff on his cheeks. “But if you speak another word, we will turn a corner that we can’t turn back from. And while I desperately want to turn that corner… tonight… it is not the night.”
Her touch lingered for another long moment while she firmly scolded herself to release him and walk out the door. After several agonizing seconds, she finally let her hands drop to her sides and took a step back with a shuddering breath. “Goodnight, Zoser,” she whispered, her gaze catching and holding his with an unspoken promise. For a moment, she started to reach out to him again before she balled her fist and tucked her hand within the other’s grasp. “Until next time.”
The retreating sound of her footsteps echoed down the hall, but not as loudly as the words left unspoken between them.
Nia watched the play of emotions over Zoser’s face as she spoke, hanging on every subtle change in expression, all the while expecting the sweetness to cloud to anger, for him to push her away and usher her out the door with firm words of remonstration that she should have dared to utter such blasphemy.
That’s what should have happened. In a sane, rational world where humans are not ruled by their emotions, and people make choices based on what’s in their best interest, that’s what would have happened.
Needless to say, that’s not what happened.
When he finally spoke, the young lady of Hei Sheifa thought her heart might stop. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it certainly wasn’t this. Zoser had been a calm and steady influence in her life, a bolstering force against the storm, an anchor to keep her ship from overturning. The last thing she had expected was to fall for him, and certainly not for him to fall for her in return. She was used to the lustful gazes of older men, but never once before tonight had she caught even a hint of that from the scribe. But now that she had…
For that is how I feel about you, as well.
Her mouth dropped open ever so slightly, but no words fell from it. Every instinct within screamed at her to tell him to take it back, to step away and run out the door before this all collapsed into ruin. The position she occupied was precarious at best, and to pull Zoser into her sphere of trouble even more than she already had… It was madness. Unthinkable, inconsiderate, dangerous.
But, as she so often seemed to do, she ignored her instincts. She shoved those voices to the back of her head, a warmth filling her chest that overcame even the balmy night outside. One of her hands rose to rest against where his heart beat, feeling the chaotic thrum beneath her fingers that mirrored the erratic pulse of her own. So different from the last heart that beat against hers.
Eyes filled with tears again, her head tilted back to meet his gaze. She had no other words that she could say, the most dangerous ones lingering on the tip of her tongue, but they were the ones she didn’t dare utter. This night had complicated things enough, and to complicate them further would be signing her and Zoser’s writs of execution.
The hand on his chest shook, slowly moving up to his neck, across his jaw, and stopping at his cheek where her fingers nestled in the scratchy hair of his beard. Such an unusual thing to find on an Egyptian man’s face, though she didn’t mind. Besides, Zoser seemed as much Greek as he was Egyptian, and she knew from repeated experience that Greeks did not feel the same way about body hair that Egyptians did. For now, at least, it gave her hand something to do while she fought through the wave of emotion that threatened to drown her.
Another kiss was pressed to his lips, trembling breath whispering across his face. She did not let it linger overlong for both their sakes, though different instincts were roaring to life beneath the surface. They were instincts she could not give into, not now while fresh bruises blossomed across her flesh and her joints ached and protested from their recent misuse. She wanted nothing more than for Zoser’s touch to erase the Pharaoh’s, but she could not lay beneath him when every touch made her want to cry out with pain. Their first time… they both deserved better than this.
“My heart swells to hear you say such things,” she finally murmured, pulling back from the kiss, though their bodies still remained but inches apart. Both hands now lingered on his face, fingertips trailing through the scruff on his cheeks. “But if you speak another word, we will turn a corner that we can’t turn back from. And while I desperately want to turn that corner… tonight… it is not the night.”
Her touch lingered for another long moment while she firmly scolded herself to release him and walk out the door. After several agonizing seconds, she finally let her hands drop to her sides and took a step back with a shuddering breath. “Goodnight, Zoser,” she whispered, her gaze catching and holding his with an unspoken promise. For a moment, she started to reach out to him again before she balled her fist and tucked her hand within the other’s grasp. “Until next time.”
The retreating sound of her footsteps echoed down the hall, but not as loudly as the words left unspoken between them.