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That signature had left no doubt as to where the note came from, and reading those words again only made tears prickle at Nia’s eyes. It had been over a week since the borderline disastrous events in her family’s home, the night she’d drunkenly confessed her affair with the Pharaoh to her mother and lashed out at Zoser with all the reckless anger of a spurned teenager. She still looked back on that night with crippling guilt and shame that she should have let her emotions so overwhelm her and nearly lost the only man in her life who truly mattered to her any more.
It was just less than a week since she sent her own letter, an apology and heartfelt confession wrapped into one. Her hands had shaken as she penned it, rewriting it over and over again as she tried to find the proper words to express what she truly felt. Their last meeting in the archives had left her with a confusing mix of fear and desire—fear for what would happen should this… whatever it was… progress any further than it had, and desire for exactly that. Nia could hardly remember a time in her life where she’d been frightened to pursue a man, but this was different. With the hateful eyes of the Pharaoh on her at nearly every turn, it was more than just herself she put at risk. To think of anything happening to Zoser because of her…
Gods, but it was too much to bear.
But neither could she hold herself at bay, not when she had these feelings that she so scarcely understood. Neithotep H’Sheifa was hardly a stranger to the notion of love, but what she felt for Zoser went beyond that. He was there for her when no one else had been, a pillar to lean on when she felt she might simply crumble. How could she simply let it lie when she burned so fiercely with a fire she just couldn’t seem to put out?
Paralyzed with indecision, she had stayed away from the archives, even on the nights Iahotep sent for her. She couldn’t bear the thought of facing Zoser again, not after the way she’d acted that horrible night, and not until she could figure out exactly what she should do.
But that morning, she’d received a response to her letter.
It was short and simply worded, but it said enough. She’d read it at least twenty times since it had arrived, having memorized it by the time she put it to the candleflame. Nia knew she couldn’t risk it falling into the wrong hands with so much at stake, even if she wished she could keep it forever. Though she couldn’t hold onto it, at least her indecision was ended. She knew what she was going to do. Whether it damned them all or not.
Clad in nothing but a plain white kalasiris, a golden shawl, and leather sandals, the young lady of Hei Sheifa swept out of her family’s Cairo home with the shawl pulled over her head, intent on the Evening Star Palace.
Stumbling in her haste whilst trying not to appear too conspicuous in the quiet darkness, Nia made short work of the journey between her home and the Palace, slipping in one of the back entrances to remain unseen. Doing her best to calm her stuttering heart, she found her way down to the archives and paused at the entrance, one hand on her chest. If she walked in there now, there was no turning back. What happened tonight would seal both of their fates, one way or another, for good or for ill. There was still time to turn back if she chose.
After a moment’s hesitation, she walked inside.
Her footsteps were nearly silent against the cool stone floor, smiling and crouching down as her favorite of the kittens came to greet her. Rubbing her hand over his head, Nia laughed softly. “And a good evening to you, Jahi, though you’re not who I’m here to see.”
Straightening back up, the young woman stepped deeper into the scholarly room, peeking around disheveled furniture and piles of scrolls for the man she sought. “Zoser?” she called out quietly past the thankfully deserted shelves. “I… I got your letter.”
Another step toward where she thought she heard rustling. “Are you in here?”
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‘Maut’s friend.’
That signature had left no doubt as to where the note came from, and reading those words again only made tears prickle at Nia’s eyes. It had been over a week since the borderline disastrous events in her family’s home, the night she’d drunkenly confessed her affair with the Pharaoh to her mother and lashed out at Zoser with all the reckless anger of a spurned teenager. She still looked back on that night with crippling guilt and shame that she should have let her emotions so overwhelm her and nearly lost the only man in her life who truly mattered to her any more.
It was just less than a week since she sent her own letter, an apology and heartfelt confession wrapped into one. Her hands had shaken as she penned it, rewriting it over and over again as she tried to find the proper words to express what she truly felt. Their last meeting in the archives had left her with a confusing mix of fear and desire—fear for what would happen should this… whatever it was… progress any further than it had, and desire for exactly that. Nia could hardly remember a time in her life where she’d been frightened to pursue a man, but this was different. With the hateful eyes of the Pharaoh on her at nearly every turn, it was more than just herself she put at risk. To think of anything happening to Zoser because of her…
Gods, but it was too much to bear.
But neither could she hold herself at bay, not when she had these feelings that she so scarcely understood. Neithotep H’Sheifa was hardly a stranger to the notion of love, but what she felt for Zoser went beyond that. He was there for her when no one else had been, a pillar to lean on when she felt she might simply crumble. How could she simply let it lie when she burned so fiercely with a fire she just couldn’t seem to put out?
Paralyzed with indecision, she had stayed away from the archives, even on the nights Iahotep sent for her. She couldn’t bear the thought of facing Zoser again, not after the way she’d acted that horrible night, and not until she could figure out exactly what she should do.
But that morning, she’d received a response to her letter.
It was short and simply worded, but it said enough. She’d read it at least twenty times since it had arrived, having memorized it by the time she put it to the candleflame. Nia knew she couldn’t risk it falling into the wrong hands with so much at stake, even if she wished she could keep it forever. Though she couldn’t hold onto it, at least her indecision was ended. She knew what she was going to do. Whether it damned them all or not.
Clad in nothing but a plain white kalasiris, a golden shawl, and leather sandals, the young lady of Hei Sheifa swept out of her family’s Cairo home with the shawl pulled over her head, intent on the Evening Star Palace.
Stumbling in her haste whilst trying not to appear too conspicuous in the quiet darkness, Nia made short work of the journey between her home and the Palace, slipping in one of the back entrances to remain unseen. Doing her best to calm her stuttering heart, she found her way down to the archives and paused at the entrance, one hand on her chest. If she walked in there now, there was no turning back. What happened tonight would seal both of their fates, one way or another, for good or for ill. There was still time to turn back if she chose.
After a moment’s hesitation, she walked inside.
Her footsteps were nearly silent against the cool stone floor, smiling and crouching down as her favorite of the kittens came to greet her. Rubbing her hand over his head, Nia laughed softly. “And a good evening to you, Jahi, though you’re not who I’m here to see.”
Straightening back up, the young woman stepped deeper into the scholarly room, peeking around disheveled furniture and piles of scrolls for the man she sought. “Zoser?” she called out quietly past the thankfully deserted shelves. “I… I got your letter.”
Another step toward where she thought she heard rustling. “Are you in here?”
‘Maut’s friend.’
That signature had left no doubt as to where the note came from, and reading those words again only made tears prickle at Nia’s eyes. It had been over a week since the borderline disastrous events in her family’s home, the night she’d drunkenly confessed her affair with the Pharaoh to her mother and lashed out at Zoser with all the reckless anger of a spurned teenager. She still looked back on that night with crippling guilt and shame that she should have let her emotions so overwhelm her and nearly lost the only man in her life who truly mattered to her any more.
It was just less than a week since she sent her own letter, an apology and heartfelt confession wrapped into one. Her hands had shaken as she penned it, rewriting it over and over again as she tried to find the proper words to express what she truly felt. Their last meeting in the archives had left her with a confusing mix of fear and desire—fear for what would happen should this… whatever it was… progress any further than it had, and desire for exactly that. Nia could hardly remember a time in her life where she’d been frightened to pursue a man, but this was different. With the hateful eyes of the Pharaoh on her at nearly every turn, it was more than just herself she put at risk. To think of anything happening to Zoser because of her…
Gods, but it was too much to bear.
But neither could she hold herself at bay, not when she had these feelings that she so scarcely understood. Neithotep H’Sheifa was hardly a stranger to the notion of love, but what she felt for Zoser went beyond that. He was there for her when no one else had been, a pillar to lean on when she felt she might simply crumble. How could she simply let it lie when she burned so fiercely with a fire she just couldn’t seem to put out?
Paralyzed with indecision, she had stayed away from the archives, even on the nights Iahotep sent for her. She couldn’t bear the thought of facing Zoser again, not after the way she’d acted that horrible night, and not until she could figure out exactly what she should do.
But that morning, she’d received a response to her letter.
It was short and simply worded, but it said enough. She’d read it at least twenty times since it had arrived, having memorized it by the time she put it to the candleflame. Nia knew she couldn’t risk it falling into the wrong hands with so much at stake, even if she wished she could keep it forever. Though she couldn’t hold onto it, at least her indecision was ended. She knew what she was going to do. Whether it damned them all or not.
Clad in nothing but a plain white kalasiris, a golden shawl, and leather sandals, the young lady of Hei Sheifa swept out of her family’s Cairo home with the shawl pulled over her head, intent on the Evening Star Palace.
Stumbling in her haste whilst trying not to appear too conspicuous in the quiet darkness, Nia made short work of the journey between her home and the Palace, slipping in one of the back entrances to remain unseen. Doing her best to calm her stuttering heart, she found her way down to the archives and paused at the entrance, one hand on her chest. If she walked in there now, there was no turning back. What happened tonight would seal both of their fates, one way or another, for good or for ill. There was still time to turn back if she chose.
After a moment’s hesitation, she walked inside.
Her footsteps were nearly silent against the cool stone floor, smiling and crouching down as her favorite of the kittens came to greet her. Rubbing her hand over his head, Nia laughed softly. “And a good evening to you, Jahi, though you’re not who I’m here to see.”
Straightening back up, the young woman stepped deeper into the scholarly room, peeking around disheveled furniture and piles of scrolls for the man she sought. “Zoser?” she called out quietly past the thankfully deserted shelves. “I… I got your letter.”
Another step toward where she thought she heard rustling. “Are you in here?”
'I love you, Zoser.'
The words flashed across vision every time he closed his eyes, even in the briefest of blinks. The other scribes had noted his lack of conversation and distant gaze for the past two weeks or so. For the most part, he nodded along with conversation and gave his orders at about half the volume as before, and nearly no teasing laughs. He often found his thoughts wandering and drifting in the midst of a conversation, asking to double back and repeat it at time or two.
'You are the one person in my life that I cannot bear to lose.'
His head hurt, not just from the plague of thoughts that the past two sobering weeks dropped upon him like a bag of the stones they used in Alexandria to build the Library, but also from the blows of the Pharoah's guards from a few days prior. He shielded his face for the most part, barring a blossoming bruise and scrape at the corner of his jaw where it rested beneath his ear. That was not the source of the headache like the final crack to the back of his head that sent his vision crossing and his ears ringing.
'All I want is to hear your voice...'
The parchments slipped from his hand and fluttered to the floor as he hear the voice from his mind echo through the empty Archives, wondering if the rattling of his mind was now worsening and spinning such things in his mind. It was her voice, like music to his ears, but he was not certain. It was sing-song for a moment, and his brows and eyes tightened together to make out the words but could not. They flew open though when he heard his name, his breath catching in his his chest a moment. Swallowing hard he dipped down to pick up the papers in a rustle and simply set them haphazardly on the nearest shelf to be abandoned until later on.
His eyes blinked rapidly a few times as he stood again, the slight dizziness that he thought had subsided resurging against briefly as he remembered to take a deep breath through his nose. Habit rifled his hand through his hair again briefly before trying to straighten his draping over-robe - something he had taken to wearing the past few days until the pattern of bruising across his ribs and back subsided.
"In here," he replied, his voice sounding distant and unlike himself, so much so causing him to shake his head briefly at how foreign he sounded.
Yes, their last interaction had been horrid, but Neithotep had no idea how his night ended at her mother's side, speaking of the most unspeakable horrors until the deepest reality of Neithotep's circumstance struck him so deeply that it felt like the bruises on his back went all the way through to the deepest part of his soul.
Still, the moment he took a few steps and saw her standing there before him, he was unable to stop the smile that tugged at his lips. It formed a feeble, uncertain echo of itself given all that the past two weeks had done to them. The coming weeks would be even worse as the war approached.
Nevertheless, his eyes took in the sight of her, like the vision of water found in the middle of the desert. Guilt from the passing nights and fear of the few days ago tried to rip away the feeling that surged through him, but then...he thought of the words written across the parchment....
'I love you, Zoser...'
"You came. It's..good to see you," he started, immediately hating how sterile it sounded, wincing at the thought. He felt awkward in his own skin, moving to cross his arms then immediately uncross them, but then resorting to sitting back to rest his rear against the edge of the desk, his hands holding onto the edges as if to keep him from fidgeting. "....Are you well?"
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'I love you, Zoser.'
The words flashed across vision every time he closed his eyes, even in the briefest of blinks. The other scribes had noted his lack of conversation and distant gaze for the past two weeks or so. For the most part, he nodded along with conversation and gave his orders at about half the volume as before, and nearly no teasing laughs. He often found his thoughts wandering and drifting in the midst of a conversation, asking to double back and repeat it at time or two.
'You are the one person in my life that I cannot bear to lose.'
His head hurt, not just from the plague of thoughts that the past two sobering weeks dropped upon him like a bag of the stones they used in Alexandria to build the Library, but also from the blows of the Pharoah's guards from a few days prior. He shielded his face for the most part, barring a blossoming bruise and scrape at the corner of his jaw where it rested beneath his ear. That was not the source of the headache like the final crack to the back of his head that sent his vision crossing and his ears ringing.
'All I want is to hear your voice...'
The parchments slipped from his hand and fluttered to the floor as he hear the voice from his mind echo through the empty Archives, wondering if the rattling of his mind was now worsening and spinning such things in his mind. It was her voice, like music to his ears, but he was not certain. It was sing-song for a moment, and his brows and eyes tightened together to make out the words but could not. They flew open though when he heard his name, his breath catching in his his chest a moment. Swallowing hard he dipped down to pick up the papers in a rustle and simply set them haphazardly on the nearest shelf to be abandoned until later on.
His eyes blinked rapidly a few times as he stood again, the slight dizziness that he thought had subsided resurging against briefly as he remembered to take a deep breath through his nose. Habit rifled his hand through his hair again briefly before trying to straighten his draping over-robe - something he had taken to wearing the past few days until the pattern of bruising across his ribs and back subsided.
"In here," he replied, his voice sounding distant and unlike himself, so much so causing him to shake his head briefly at how foreign he sounded.
Yes, their last interaction had been horrid, but Neithotep had no idea how his night ended at her mother's side, speaking of the most unspeakable horrors until the deepest reality of Neithotep's circumstance struck him so deeply that it felt like the bruises on his back went all the way through to the deepest part of his soul.
Still, the moment he took a few steps and saw her standing there before him, he was unable to stop the smile that tugged at his lips. It formed a feeble, uncertain echo of itself given all that the past two weeks had done to them. The coming weeks would be even worse as the war approached.
Nevertheless, his eyes took in the sight of her, like the vision of water found in the middle of the desert. Guilt from the passing nights and fear of the few days ago tried to rip away the feeling that surged through him, but then...he thought of the words written across the parchment....
'I love you, Zoser...'
"You came. It's..good to see you," he started, immediately hating how sterile it sounded, wincing at the thought. He felt awkward in his own skin, moving to cross his arms then immediately uncross them, but then resorting to sitting back to rest his rear against the edge of the desk, his hands holding onto the edges as if to keep him from fidgeting. "....Are you well?"
'I love you, Zoser.'
The words flashed across vision every time he closed his eyes, even in the briefest of blinks. The other scribes had noted his lack of conversation and distant gaze for the past two weeks or so. For the most part, he nodded along with conversation and gave his orders at about half the volume as before, and nearly no teasing laughs. He often found his thoughts wandering and drifting in the midst of a conversation, asking to double back and repeat it at time or two.
'You are the one person in my life that I cannot bear to lose.'
His head hurt, not just from the plague of thoughts that the past two sobering weeks dropped upon him like a bag of the stones they used in Alexandria to build the Library, but also from the blows of the Pharoah's guards from a few days prior. He shielded his face for the most part, barring a blossoming bruise and scrape at the corner of his jaw where it rested beneath his ear. That was not the source of the headache like the final crack to the back of his head that sent his vision crossing and his ears ringing.
'All I want is to hear your voice...'
The parchments slipped from his hand and fluttered to the floor as he hear the voice from his mind echo through the empty Archives, wondering if the rattling of his mind was now worsening and spinning such things in his mind. It was her voice, like music to his ears, but he was not certain. It was sing-song for a moment, and his brows and eyes tightened together to make out the words but could not. They flew open though when he heard his name, his breath catching in his his chest a moment. Swallowing hard he dipped down to pick up the papers in a rustle and simply set them haphazardly on the nearest shelf to be abandoned until later on.
His eyes blinked rapidly a few times as he stood again, the slight dizziness that he thought had subsided resurging against briefly as he remembered to take a deep breath through his nose. Habit rifled his hand through his hair again briefly before trying to straighten his draping over-robe - something he had taken to wearing the past few days until the pattern of bruising across his ribs and back subsided.
"In here," he replied, his voice sounding distant and unlike himself, so much so causing him to shake his head briefly at how foreign he sounded.
Yes, their last interaction had been horrid, but Neithotep had no idea how his night ended at her mother's side, speaking of the most unspeakable horrors until the deepest reality of Neithotep's circumstance struck him so deeply that it felt like the bruises on his back went all the way through to the deepest part of his soul.
Still, the moment he took a few steps and saw her standing there before him, he was unable to stop the smile that tugged at his lips. It formed a feeble, uncertain echo of itself given all that the past two weeks had done to them. The coming weeks would be even worse as the war approached.
Nevertheless, his eyes took in the sight of her, like the vision of water found in the middle of the desert. Guilt from the passing nights and fear of the few days ago tried to rip away the feeling that surged through him, but then...he thought of the words written across the parchment....
'I love you, Zoser...'
"You came. It's..good to see you," he started, immediately hating how sterile it sounded, wincing at the thought. He felt awkward in his own skin, moving to cross his arms then immediately uncross them, but then resorting to sitting back to rest his rear against the edge of the desk, his hands holding onto the edges as if to keep him from fidgeting. "....Are you well?"
The sound of his voice caused Nia’s heart to pick up its pace, a dull thud in her chest as he approached. Though he sounded so different than he normally did, that didn’t stop the answering smile that formed on her own face—hesitant, but certainly still there. Nothing could stop the joy that filled her, merely at being in his presence after what felt like an eternity of absence.
That joy was dampened, however, by the oddness of his demeanor—the stiffness in his walk as he approached, combined with the stilted way he spoke, drew the barest of frowns across her features. When he approached, she’d started to reach out, but the peculiar way he spoke had her dropping her hand. Had she made a mistake in coming here, after all? Should she have just stayed away?
But his letter…
Nia knew she couldn’t stay away, even if, by all accounts, it was the right thing to do. The flush of her skin, the intensity of her pulse; Zoser affected her in a way no man had done in years, if ever. Compared to the one who currently held her in thrall, it was like a parched man tasting water for the first time in a week, and just as sustaining.
“I am… better than I was,” she answered carefully when he asked if she was well. “The Pharaoh has not summoned me since the night he marred my face. For that, at least, I can be grateful. Perhaps… perhaps he won’t again.” One could hope she’d angered him enough to keep him at bay for good, but even as she spoke the words, she knew them to be lies. It was only a matter of time.
A keen gaze watched his body language for telltale signs of what might be bothering him, but she was not nearly so savvy with such things as her mother or older sister. Gods, what was he thinking beneath all that stilted discomfort? Was he as happy to see her as she was to see him? Did he regret answering her letter? Did he wish she’d just stayed away?
Her close inspection of his face, however, derailed that train of thought, gasping sharply when she noticed the bruise at the corner of his jaw. Closing the distance between them and heedless of any lingering awkwardness, gentle fingers angled his face toward the meager light. “By the gods, Zoser, what happened?” Nia asked, brows drawing together with concern. “Who did this to you?”
For a brief moment, she wondered if it hadn’t been her mother in the wake of all that happened that fateful night. She wouldn’t entirely put it past her, though she doubted the woman would leave bruises where they could be seen. Iaheru was certainly smarter than that. The far likelier candidate was the one who’d left similar marks on her, and when the thought occurred, Nia froze in horror.
This wasn’t her fault, was it? Had Iahotep somehow intercepted their correspondence and guessed who it was from? No, surely that couldn’t be it, not with the secrecy they both shrouded themselves with. But what if…?
“What happened?” she asked again, her voice this time barely more than a cracked whisper.
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The sound of his voice caused Nia’s heart to pick up its pace, a dull thud in her chest as he approached. Though he sounded so different than he normally did, that didn’t stop the answering smile that formed on her own face—hesitant, but certainly still there. Nothing could stop the joy that filled her, merely at being in his presence after what felt like an eternity of absence.
That joy was dampened, however, by the oddness of his demeanor—the stiffness in his walk as he approached, combined with the stilted way he spoke, drew the barest of frowns across her features. When he approached, she’d started to reach out, but the peculiar way he spoke had her dropping her hand. Had she made a mistake in coming here, after all? Should she have just stayed away?
But his letter…
Nia knew she couldn’t stay away, even if, by all accounts, it was the right thing to do. The flush of her skin, the intensity of her pulse; Zoser affected her in a way no man had done in years, if ever. Compared to the one who currently held her in thrall, it was like a parched man tasting water for the first time in a week, and just as sustaining.
“I am… better than I was,” she answered carefully when he asked if she was well. “The Pharaoh has not summoned me since the night he marred my face. For that, at least, I can be grateful. Perhaps… perhaps he won’t again.” One could hope she’d angered him enough to keep him at bay for good, but even as she spoke the words, she knew them to be lies. It was only a matter of time.
A keen gaze watched his body language for telltale signs of what might be bothering him, but she was not nearly so savvy with such things as her mother or older sister. Gods, what was he thinking beneath all that stilted discomfort? Was he as happy to see her as she was to see him? Did he regret answering her letter? Did he wish she’d just stayed away?
Her close inspection of his face, however, derailed that train of thought, gasping sharply when she noticed the bruise at the corner of his jaw. Closing the distance between them and heedless of any lingering awkwardness, gentle fingers angled his face toward the meager light. “By the gods, Zoser, what happened?” Nia asked, brows drawing together with concern. “Who did this to you?”
For a brief moment, she wondered if it hadn’t been her mother in the wake of all that happened that fateful night. She wouldn’t entirely put it past her, though she doubted the woman would leave bruises where they could be seen. Iaheru was certainly smarter than that. The far likelier candidate was the one who’d left similar marks on her, and when the thought occurred, Nia froze in horror.
This wasn’t her fault, was it? Had Iahotep somehow intercepted their correspondence and guessed who it was from? No, surely that couldn’t be it, not with the secrecy they both shrouded themselves with. But what if…?
“What happened?” she asked again, her voice this time barely more than a cracked whisper.
The sound of his voice caused Nia’s heart to pick up its pace, a dull thud in her chest as he approached. Though he sounded so different than he normally did, that didn’t stop the answering smile that formed on her own face—hesitant, but certainly still there. Nothing could stop the joy that filled her, merely at being in his presence after what felt like an eternity of absence.
That joy was dampened, however, by the oddness of his demeanor—the stiffness in his walk as he approached, combined with the stilted way he spoke, drew the barest of frowns across her features. When he approached, she’d started to reach out, but the peculiar way he spoke had her dropping her hand. Had she made a mistake in coming here, after all? Should she have just stayed away?
But his letter…
Nia knew she couldn’t stay away, even if, by all accounts, it was the right thing to do. The flush of her skin, the intensity of her pulse; Zoser affected her in a way no man had done in years, if ever. Compared to the one who currently held her in thrall, it was like a parched man tasting water for the first time in a week, and just as sustaining.
“I am… better than I was,” she answered carefully when he asked if she was well. “The Pharaoh has not summoned me since the night he marred my face. For that, at least, I can be grateful. Perhaps… perhaps he won’t again.” One could hope she’d angered him enough to keep him at bay for good, but even as she spoke the words, she knew them to be lies. It was only a matter of time.
A keen gaze watched his body language for telltale signs of what might be bothering him, but she was not nearly so savvy with such things as her mother or older sister. Gods, what was he thinking beneath all that stilted discomfort? Was he as happy to see her as she was to see him? Did he regret answering her letter? Did he wish she’d just stayed away?
Her close inspection of his face, however, derailed that train of thought, gasping sharply when she noticed the bruise at the corner of his jaw. Closing the distance between them and heedless of any lingering awkwardness, gentle fingers angled his face toward the meager light. “By the gods, Zoser, what happened?” Nia asked, brows drawing together with concern. “Who did this to you?”
For a brief moment, she wondered if it hadn’t been her mother in the wake of all that happened that fateful night. She wouldn’t entirely put it past her, though she doubted the woman would leave bruises where they could be seen. Iaheru was certainly smarter than that. The far likelier candidate was the one who’d left similar marks on her, and when the thought occurred, Nia froze in horror.
This wasn’t her fault, was it? Had Iahotep somehow intercepted their correspondence and guessed who it was from? No, surely that couldn’t be it, not with the secrecy they both shrouded themselves with. But what if…?
“What happened?” she asked again, her voice this time barely more than a cracked whisper.
There was an ache in his chest simply at the sight of her. He wished he could draw himself across the room to her. He was far from a fighter, but somehow she drew what little courage and strength from within him just by standing there, as if he could do anything to protect her from the world: past and present.
Then, he remembered how quickly he had crumpled against the blows of the trained guards in the Pharaoh's chambers. If he could hardly stand such a thing, then how could he protect her? Or Hatshepsut? Or anyone for that matter? It would be lovely to think that, when it all came down to it, he could rise to the moment. However, simply breathing and seeing was a struggle, and a deep-seated self-doubt creeped in.
"Good," Zoser started, a smile finding its way through an exhale of relief. If the gods were kind, the impending war would preoccupy the Pharaoh, and this entire ordeal could be set entirely aside. It would be good fortune for those in the Palace for a time...or if the gods willed it, for the future.
Zoser was about to continue in some sort of commentary or apology about not replying to her letter sooner, or about emphasizing how times would be easier coming soon. But, before he could, he realized her rapid approach with a few quick blinks and a slight shift away. It was fruitless against her hands on his jaw, the motion of it leading him to wince and hiss a moment. He was closing in the hour for him to drink another tea of pain-killing herbs, but clearly he could have used them before this moment.
"I'm fine," he lied between gritted teeth, eyes wincing as she examined the forgotten bruise on his jaw. Once she released him, he gingerly straightened and his hand floated up to cover it his jaw with his own featherlight touch, shielding it from her sight, he hoped. "I...ended up on the wrong end of a few guards."
It was honesty, but it was also a frightening realization if she put it together as quickly as her expression said it did. His hand reached out to stroke long down her shoulder, but was unable to deny the assumption that she made. However, he could offer her some solace, his expression returning to a crinkle-eyed smile and a breath of a laugh at her question.
"Would you believe me if I told you my tongue got me in trouble?"
He offered a laugh, trying to lift the mood, but knowing it was going no where. He even cupped her cheek and brushed a thumb across her cheekbone. He did not want her to be upset, but it was inevitable. Still, he could offer her something to ease her worries.
"He does not know," Zoser assured her, tilting his head so that he nearly had to look at her from directly beneath his brows, locking his eyes with hers to convince her of that truth. "I swear it."
He took a deep breath, wincing slightly as the bruises along his ribs shifted a bit, but covered it as a heavy breath, with the extra air in his lungs allowing for the swirling behind his eyes to subside ever so slightly. Still, he shifted, gesturing to the bench along a break in the shelves of his study. It was partially out of courtesy, partially to escape her worried eyes, and partially because he very desperately needed to sit in that moment.
"I have not had my ass handed to me like that since I was a student in Athenia," he mused, trying to inject humor into the moment, stretching slightly hoping that would readjust his aching muscles as he assisted himself down to the bench, "I was 14, too tall, and narrow as a reed...and there were four of them. I could hardly move for a week after."
He laughed slightly and with a slight grunt he settled onto the bench and then gestured to the empty space next to him.
"In short, I've had worse. I promise. Age just...does not help."
He felt gods-awful, but it did not stop the way that his heart seemed to raise higher and higher into his chest as memories of their last moments together alone in the Archives.
All he wanted was for her to be close once again.
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There was an ache in his chest simply at the sight of her. He wished he could draw himself across the room to her. He was far from a fighter, but somehow she drew what little courage and strength from within him just by standing there, as if he could do anything to protect her from the world: past and present.
Then, he remembered how quickly he had crumpled against the blows of the trained guards in the Pharaoh's chambers. If he could hardly stand such a thing, then how could he protect her? Or Hatshepsut? Or anyone for that matter? It would be lovely to think that, when it all came down to it, he could rise to the moment. However, simply breathing and seeing was a struggle, and a deep-seated self-doubt creeped in.
"Good," Zoser started, a smile finding its way through an exhale of relief. If the gods were kind, the impending war would preoccupy the Pharaoh, and this entire ordeal could be set entirely aside. It would be good fortune for those in the Palace for a time...or if the gods willed it, for the future.
Zoser was about to continue in some sort of commentary or apology about not replying to her letter sooner, or about emphasizing how times would be easier coming soon. But, before he could, he realized her rapid approach with a few quick blinks and a slight shift away. It was fruitless against her hands on his jaw, the motion of it leading him to wince and hiss a moment. He was closing in the hour for him to drink another tea of pain-killing herbs, but clearly he could have used them before this moment.
"I'm fine," he lied between gritted teeth, eyes wincing as she examined the forgotten bruise on his jaw. Once she released him, he gingerly straightened and his hand floated up to cover it his jaw with his own featherlight touch, shielding it from her sight, he hoped. "I...ended up on the wrong end of a few guards."
It was honesty, but it was also a frightening realization if she put it together as quickly as her expression said it did. His hand reached out to stroke long down her shoulder, but was unable to deny the assumption that she made. However, he could offer her some solace, his expression returning to a crinkle-eyed smile and a breath of a laugh at her question.
"Would you believe me if I told you my tongue got me in trouble?"
He offered a laugh, trying to lift the mood, but knowing it was going no where. He even cupped her cheek and brushed a thumb across her cheekbone. He did not want her to be upset, but it was inevitable. Still, he could offer her something to ease her worries.
"He does not know," Zoser assured her, tilting his head so that he nearly had to look at her from directly beneath his brows, locking his eyes with hers to convince her of that truth. "I swear it."
He took a deep breath, wincing slightly as the bruises along his ribs shifted a bit, but covered it as a heavy breath, with the extra air in his lungs allowing for the swirling behind his eyes to subside ever so slightly. Still, he shifted, gesturing to the bench along a break in the shelves of his study. It was partially out of courtesy, partially to escape her worried eyes, and partially because he very desperately needed to sit in that moment.
"I have not had my ass handed to me like that since I was a student in Athenia," he mused, trying to inject humor into the moment, stretching slightly hoping that would readjust his aching muscles as he assisted himself down to the bench, "I was 14, too tall, and narrow as a reed...and there were four of them. I could hardly move for a week after."
He laughed slightly and with a slight grunt he settled onto the bench and then gestured to the empty space next to him.
"In short, I've had worse. I promise. Age just...does not help."
He felt gods-awful, but it did not stop the way that his heart seemed to raise higher and higher into his chest as memories of their last moments together alone in the Archives.
All he wanted was for her to be close once again.
There was an ache in his chest simply at the sight of her. He wished he could draw himself across the room to her. He was far from a fighter, but somehow she drew what little courage and strength from within him just by standing there, as if he could do anything to protect her from the world: past and present.
Then, he remembered how quickly he had crumpled against the blows of the trained guards in the Pharaoh's chambers. If he could hardly stand such a thing, then how could he protect her? Or Hatshepsut? Or anyone for that matter? It would be lovely to think that, when it all came down to it, he could rise to the moment. However, simply breathing and seeing was a struggle, and a deep-seated self-doubt creeped in.
"Good," Zoser started, a smile finding its way through an exhale of relief. If the gods were kind, the impending war would preoccupy the Pharaoh, and this entire ordeal could be set entirely aside. It would be good fortune for those in the Palace for a time...or if the gods willed it, for the future.
Zoser was about to continue in some sort of commentary or apology about not replying to her letter sooner, or about emphasizing how times would be easier coming soon. But, before he could, he realized her rapid approach with a few quick blinks and a slight shift away. It was fruitless against her hands on his jaw, the motion of it leading him to wince and hiss a moment. He was closing in the hour for him to drink another tea of pain-killing herbs, but clearly he could have used them before this moment.
"I'm fine," he lied between gritted teeth, eyes wincing as she examined the forgotten bruise on his jaw. Once she released him, he gingerly straightened and his hand floated up to cover it his jaw with his own featherlight touch, shielding it from her sight, he hoped. "I...ended up on the wrong end of a few guards."
It was honesty, but it was also a frightening realization if she put it together as quickly as her expression said it did. His hand reached out to stroke long down her shoulder, but was unable to deny the assumption that she made. However, he could offer her some solace, his expression returning to a crinkle-eyed smile and a breath of a laugh at her question.
"Would you believe me if I told you my tongue got me in trouble?"
He offered a laugh, trying to lift the mood, but knowing it was going no where. He even cupped her cheek and brushed a thumb across her cheekbone. He did not want her to be upset, but it was inevitable. Still, he could offer her something to ease her worries.
"He does not know," Zoser assured her, tilting his head so that he nearly had to look at her from directly beneath his brows, locking his eyes with hers to convince her of that truth. "I swear it."
He took a deep breath, wincing slightly as the bruises along his ribs shifted a bit, but covered it as a heavy breath, with the extra air in his lungs allowing for the swirling behind his eyes to subside ever so slightly. Still, he shifted, gesturing to the bench along a break in the shelves of his study. It was partially out of courtesy, partially to escape her worried eyes, and partially because he very desperately needed to sit in that moment.
"I have not had my ass handed to me like that since I was a student in Athenia," he mused, trying to inject humor into the moment, stretching slightly hoping that would readjust his aching muscles as he assisted himself down to the bench, "I was 14, too tall, and narrow as a reed...and there were four of them. I could hardly move for a week after."
He laughed slightly and with a slight grunt he settled onto the bench and then gestured to the empty space next to him.
"In short, I've had worse. I promise. Age just...does not help."
He felt gods-awful, but it did not stop the way that his heart seemed to raise higher and higher into his chest as memories of their last moments together alone in the Archives.
All he wanted was for her to be close once again.
All the reassurances in the world couldn’t stop Nia’s worries, wringing her hands uselessly as he explained what happened and how it wasn’t that bad. No matter what he said, she could see the way he winced when he moved, the flinch when she came too close, the hiss of pain that ensued. He could put on a brave face all he liked, but he could not pretend everything was all right—especially not to her, who understood the nature of pain and injury all too well these days.
His assertion that the Pharaoh did not know about them only did so much to soothe her, nodding in response even as her jaw tightened. She could well believe his tongue got him into trouble, but seeing him like this…
Gods, all she wanted to do was help, but she didn’t know how.
Settling at his side when he patted the bench next to him, she gingerly took his hand, afraid even that would cause him pain. She held it in her lap, one of her own hands gently gripping his fingers while the other lightly stroked the back. His suffering at the hands of Iahotep, even if it wasn’t related to their… closeness, only further solidified her fear of the Pharaoh’s temper. All she wanted was to keep him safe, even if that meant pain for her.
And yet…
His hand held in hers, her breath quickened almost imperceptibly at his proximity while her heart soon followed suit. Zoser’s simple presence caused a knot of anxiety to loosen in her stomach, replaced by a fluttering that brought a light flush to her cheeks and a sparkle to her eye. Like him, she had not forgotten the last time they’d been alone in the archives, the feel of his body pressed against her, his mouth brushing over hers…
Gripping his hand a little tighter, she brought it to her lips and laid a gentle kiss against his palm. Her eyes flicked to meet his in a brief, yet poignant gaze, before she lowered his hand back to her lap along with her eyes. There was so much to say, so many thoughts left unspoken between them, but to voice them aloud now of all times…
“Let me help you, Zoser,” she murmured, her thumb stroking lightly over the back of his hand. “All those times you’ve tended my bumps and bruises and soothed me after…” Nia let that thought trail off; he knew what she was talking about, there was no need to explain further. She looked up at his face again with a small smile, the hand stroking his raising to gently ease through his hair. “I know you have salves and remedies stashed away down here somewhere. Direct me to where they are, and let me take care of you for once.”
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All the reassurances in the world couldn’t stop Nia’s worries, wringing her hands uselessly as he explained what happened and how it wasn’t that bad. No matter what he said, she could see the way he winced when he moved, the flinch when she came too close, the hiss of pain that ensued. He could put on a brave face all he liked, but he could not pretend everything was all right—especially not to her, who understood the nature of pain and injury all too well these days.
His assertion that the Pharaoh did not know about them only did so much to soothe her, nodding in response even as her jaw tightened. She could well believe his tongue got him into trouble, but seeing him like this…
Gods, all she wanted to do was help, but she didn’t know how.
Settling at his side when he patted the bench next to him, she gingerly took his hand, afraid even that would cause him pain. She held it in her lap, one of her own hands gently gripping his fingers while the other lightly stroked the back. His suffering at the hands of Iahotep, even if it wasn’t related to their… closeness, only further solidified her fear of the Pharaoh’s temper. All she wanted was to keep him safe, even if that meant pain for her.
And yet…
His hand held in hers, her breath quickened almost imperceptibly at his proximity while her heart soon followed suit. Zoser’s simple presence caused a knot of anxiety to loosen in her stomach, replaced by a fluttering that brought a light flush to her cheeks and a sparkle to her eye. Like him, she had not forgotten the last time they’d been alone in the archives, the feel of his body pressed against her, his mouth brushing over hers…
Gripping his hand a little tighter, she brought it to her lips and laid a gentle kiss against his palm. Her eyes flicked to meet his in a brief, yet poignant gaze, before she lowered his hand back to her lap along with her eyes. There was so much to say, so many thoughts left unspoken between them, but to voice them aloud now of all times…
“Let me help you, Zoser,” she murmured, her thumb stroking lightly over the back of his hand. “All those times you’ve tended my bumps and bruises and soothed me after…” Nia let that thought trail off; he knew what she was talking about, there was no need to explain further. She looked up at his face again with a small smile, the hand stroking his raising to gently ease through his hair. “I know you have salves and remedies stashed away down here somewhere. Direct me to where they are, and let me take care of you for once.”
All the reassurances in the world couldn’t stop Nia’s worries, wringing her hands uselessly as he explained what happened and how it wasn’t that bad. No matter what he said, she could see the way he winced when he moved, the flinch when she came too close, the hiss of pain that ensued. He could put on a brave face all he liked, but he could not pretend everything was all right—especially not to her, who understood the nature of pain and injury all too well these days.
His assertion that the Pharaoh did not know about them only did so much to soothe her, nodding in response even as her jaw tightened. She could well believe his tongue got him into trouble, but seeing him like this…
Gods, all she wanted to do was help, but she didn’t know how.
Settling at his side when he patted the bench next to him, she gingerly took his hand, afraid even that would cause him pain. She held it in her lap, one of her own hands gently gripping his fingers while the other lightly stroked the back. His suffering at the hands of Iahotep, even if it wasn’t related to their… closeness, only further solidified her fear of the Pharaoh’s temper. All she wanted was to keep him safe, even if that meant pain for her.
And yet…
His hand held in hers, her breath quickened almost imperceptibly at his proximity while her heart soon followed suit. Zoser’s simple presence caused a knot of anxiety to loosen in her stomach, replaced by a fluttering that brought a light flush to her cheeks and a sparkle to her eye. Like him, she had not forgotten the last time they’d been alone in the archives, the feel of his body pressed against her, his mouth brushing over hers…
Gripping his hand a little tighter, she brought it to her lips and laid a gentle kiss against his palm. Her eyes flicked to meet his in a brief, yet poignant gaze, before she lowered his hand back to her lap along with her eyes. There was so much to say, so many thoughts left unspoken between them, but to voice them aloud now of all times…
“Let me help you, Zoser,” she murmured, her thumb stroking lightly over the back of his hand. “All those times you’ve tended my bumps and bruises and soothed me after…” Nia let that thought trail off; he knew what she was talking about, there was no need to explain further. She looked up at his face again with a small smile, the hand stroking his raising to gently ease through his hair. “I know you have salves and remedies stashed away down here somewhere. Direct me to where they are, and let me take care of you for once.”
Zoser could see that his words were not as comforting as he would have wished, and it was understandable. Mix the pharoah into anything and the edges of everything seemed to remain frayed and fraught. It would only be a matter of time before he was called before Iahotep again, likely to give some issuance of a report regarding the visits he made to the Hei leaders, including the orders he would deliver to Osorsen in the coming days. Zoser felt blessedly thankful to sail upriver towards Thebes, a temporary reprieve from the threats in the Palace.
His heart could have bent torn in two with the sweetness of her kiss to his palm, and it reflected in his eyes as he looked down at her. Though she kept her hand on his after she did so, he smiled slightly and lifted the palm of his hands to his own lips, quietly accepting the gift from her before letting his hand rest back in her lap.
Everything that had developed between them had been sudden and deeply caring, despite the way fear for themselves and each other marred it. Could you love another if you feared for yourself? That question had not been an issue until the other day in the Pharaoh's quarters.
Yet, Zoser wanted something that was his. It was entirely selfish. He was a freeman and, though common-born, had the privilege of the silent support of H'Moghadam, as he had all his life. He had a home and a high-merit position, something that anyone else born on the streets of Thebes would have thought impossible. It was likely a sin for him to want Neithotep's love so badly for himself, the way he thought about the way it made him feel. If he knew better, he would have considered pulling away, for their own safety, but damn it all, he wanted something this beautiful to be his and his alone.
It only made him want it more knowing he could not have it.
Not only because of the Pharoah, but now with the strained tensions between himself and Iaheru H'Sheifa. Perhaps, in desperate times or even as a way to socially climb and achieve a family name of his own, he could have floated the idea of marriage there. However, it was all but an impossibility, something to laugh at - much like himself on any given day.
Initially prepared to protest her help, her persistence led him to sigh and relent.
"Oh, alright. But, only because a few are hard to reach and you are far more beautiful than Khufu ever will be," Zoser chimed, lathering his words with air-lifting humor, if only to try to see her smile. Importnatly, to see her smile at least once more before he started to untie the sash of his over-robe.
Slipping the ornamented garment off his shoulders and to settled messily on the bench, he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees before him. The rounding of his back made the mottled blue and purple bruising seem to stretch across it, with the odd, ruddy scrapes in the middle of larger ones. Some were just turning green on the edges and no more were any larger than the size of his palm. Those along his ribs, though, hurt deeply, beneath the skin and to the bone, where shifting just wrong could send the sting of salt to his eyes and his breath short.
"See? Not all that bad." At least, he hoped it was not that bad - he couldn't see his back after all.
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Zoser could see that his words were not as comforting as he would have wished, and it was understandable. Mix the pharoah into anything and the edges of everything seemed to remain frayed and fraught. It would only be a matter of time before he was called before Iahotep again, likely to give some issuance of a report regarding the visits he made to the Hei leaders, including the orders he would deliver to Osorsen in the coming days. Zoser felt blessedly thankful to sail upriver towards Thebes, a temporary reprieve from the threats in the Palace.
His heart could have bent torn in two with the sweetness of her kiss to his palm, and it reflected in his eyes as he looked down at her. Though she kept her hand on his after she did so, he smiled slightly and lifted the palm of his hands to his own lips, quietly accepting the gift from her before letting his hand rest back in her lap.
Everything that had developed between them had been sudden and deeply caring, despite the way fear for themselves and each other marred it. Could you love another if you feared for yourself? That question had not been an issue until the other day in the Pharaoh's quarters.
Yet, Zoser wanted something that was his. It was entirely selfish. He was a freeman and, though common-born, had the privilege of the silent support of H'Moghadam, as he had all his life. He had a home and a high-merit position, something that anyone else born on the streets of Thebes would have thought impossible. It was likely a sin for him to want Neithotep's love so badly for himself, the way he thought about the way it made him feel. If he knew better, he would have considered pulling away, for their own safety, but damn it all, he wanted something this beautiful to be his and his alone.
It only made him want it more knowing he could not have it.
Not only because of the Pharoah, but now with the strained tensions between himself and Iaheru H'Sheifa. Perhaps, in desperate times or even as a way to socially climb and achieve a family name of his own, he could have floated the idea of marriage there. However, it was all but an impossibility, something to laugh at - much like himself on any given day.
Initially prepared to protest her help, her persistence led him to sigh and relent.
"Oh, alright. But, only because a few are hard to reach and you are far more beautiful than Khufu ever will be," Zoser chimed, lathering his words with air-lifting humor, if only to try to see her smile. Importnatly, to see her smile at least once more before he started to untie the sash of his over-robe.
Slipping the ornamented garment off his shoulders and to settled messily on the bench, he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees before him. The rounding of his back made the mottled blue and purple bruising seem to stretch across it, with the odd, ruddy scrapes in the middle of larger ones. Some were just turning green on the edges and no more were any larger than the size of his palm. Those along his ribs, though, hurt deeply, beneath the skin and to the bone, where shifting just wrong could send the sting of salt to his eyes and his breath short.
"See? Not all that bad." At least, he hoped it was not that bad - he couldn't see his back after all.
Zoser could see that his words were not as comforting as he would have wished, and it was understandable. Mix the pharoah into anything and the edges of everything seemed to remain frayed and fraught. It would only be a matter of time before he was called before Iahotep again, likely to give some issuance of a report regarding the visits he made to the Hei leaders, including the orders he would deliver to Osorsen in the coming days. Zoser felt blessedly thankful to sail upriver towards Thebes, a temporary reprieve from the threats in the Palace.
His heart could have bent torn in two with the sweetness of her kiss to his palm, and it reflected in his eyes as he looked down at her. Though she kept her hand on his after she did so, he smiled slightly and lifted the palm of his hands to his own lips, quietly accepting the gift from her before letting his hand rest back in her lap.
Everything that had developed between them had been sudden and deeply caring, despite the way fear for themselves and each other marred it. Could you love another if you feared for yourself? That question had not been an issue until the other day in the Pharaoh's quarters.
Yet, Zoser wanted something that was his. It was entirely selfish. He was a freeman and, though common-born, had the privilege of the silent support of H'Moghadam, as he had all his life. He had a home and a high-merit position, something that anyone else born on the streets of Thebes would have thought impossible. It was likely a sin for him to want Neithotep's love so badly for himself, the way he thought about the way it made him feel. If he knew better, he would have considered pulling away, for their own safety, but damn it all, he wanted something this beautiful to be his and his alone.
It only made him want it more knowing he could not have it.
Not only because of the Pharoah, but now with the strained tensions between himself and Iaheru H'Sheifa. Perhaps, in desperate times or even as a way to socially climb and achieve a family name of his own, he could have floated the idea of marriage there. However, it was all but an impossibility, something to laugh at - much like himself on any given day.
Initially prepared to protest her help, her persistence led him to sigh and relent.
"Oh, alright. But, only because a few are hard to reach and you are far more beautiful than Khufu ever will be," Zoser chimed, lathering his words with air-lifting humor, if only to try to see her smile. Importnatly, to see her smile at least once more before he started to untie the sash of his over-robe.
Slipping the ornamented garment off his shoulders and to settled messily on the bench, he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees before him. The rounding of his back made the mottled blue and purple bruising seem to stretch across it, with the odd, ruddy scrapes in the middle of larger ones. Some were just turning green on the edges and no more were any larger than the size of his palm. Those along his ribs, though, hurt deeply, beneath the skin and to the bone, where shifting just wrong could send the sting of salt to his eyes and his breath short.
"See? Not all that bad." At least, he hoped it was not that bad - he couldn't see his back after all.
Oh, alright. But, only because a few are hard to reach and you are far more beautiful than Khufu ever will be.
His words did indeed spark the smile he hoped for, the expression crinkling her eyes and softening her face. However, as soon as Zoser relented and dropped his robe, that smile was gone just as soon as it had appeared. Nia’s sharp gasp echoed through the archives at the sight of the mottled bruising, one hand snapping up in horror to cover her mouth.
“Oh, Zoser…” the cracked words were nearly inaudible through her palm, her free hand reaching to hover helplessly over his back. She wished that simply her touch could soothe away the pain, make the marks disappear, but unfortunately, Nia possessed no such powers. As it was, she was nearly afraid to touch him at all, sure she would only exacerbate his misery.
Rising to her feet, she started shuffling through his personal effects until she found the salve she was looking for—one he had previously applied to bruises of her own. Hands shaking as she walked back over, she took a deep breath and forced them to still. Her fear and worry would do nothing for them now, and this time, she would not be the weak one. This time, she had to help him.
Carefully opening the jar and setting the lid to the side, she scooped up some of the lineament onto her fingertips, starting tentatively with the darkest bruise near his ribs. Her touch was tender and feather-light, smoothing the salve over the scribe’s skin as gently as she could. “You’ve got to be more careful around him,” she scolded lightly, her face strained into lines of concern. “The Pharaoh’s temper knows few boundaries, and I’d hate to see you come away from him… worse than this.” Nia’s voice nearly broke in that pause, unable to bear the thought of anything happening to the man she tended so delicately. She knew Iahotep’s rage intimately, just as she knew this was tame compared to what he was capable of.
Her fingers glided lovingly up toward his shoulder blade, rubbing in gentle circles to work the ointment into his skin. “Does anything feel broken?” she asked quietly, eyeing the deep bruising that ran along his ribs. A gentle kiss was placed with gossamer lips along the curve of his shoulder before her hand replaced her mouth, the smell of mint and camphor wafting toward her nose. She continued to massage the salve into his back, interspersing tender kisses along his skin when her hand lifted away. “Can you breathe without pain?”
Concern was written in her voice as clearly as it was painted across her face, her heart clenching almost painfully tight. Was this how he felt when she walked in the room after one of her sessions with the Pharaoh, limping and bruised? Stepping back after she’d covered the last of the wounds she could see, she circled around to the other side of the bench to see if there was more she’d missed.
A gentle finger lifted Zoser’s chin so his face would catch the light, highlighting the bruising along his jaw. Ever so carefully, she applied the same treatment she’d given his back, lightly rubbing the salve over his swollen jawbone with the most delicate of touches. The young woman’s hand lingered against his face perhaps a minute longer than necessary, the ball of her thumb stroking over his cheek.
She was quiet for several long moments as she looked down at him, the hand against his face sliding up to sift slowly through his hair. There was nothing Nia wanted more than to lean down and press her mouth to his, to forget all of this had happened and lose themselves in each other instead. However, she didn’t want to hurt him, and she was sure the passion that kiss would stir would only be more detrimental in the long term. Instead, she contented herself by brushing her lips over his forehead and briefly resting her head against his.
“Sit up,” she finally commanded in a murmur, drawing back enough that her soft gaze held his. Letting her hand drop from his head, the corner of her lips tilted in a half-smile. “Let me see the front of you.”
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Oh, alright. But, only because a few are hard to reach and you are far more beautiful than Khufu ever will be.
His words did indeed spark the smile he hoped for, the expression crinkling her eyes and softening her face. However, as soon as Zoser relented and dropped his robe, that smile was gone just as soon as it had appeared. Nia’s sharp gasp echoed through the archives at the sight of the mottled bruising, one hand snapping up in horror to cover her mouth.
“Oh, Zoser…” the cracked words were nearly inaudible through her palm, her free hand reaching to hover helplessly over his back. She wished that simply her touch could soothe away the pain, make the marks disappear, but unfortunately, Nia possessed no such powers. As it was, she was nearly afraid to touch him at all, sure she would only exacerbate his misery.
Rising to her feet, she started shuffling through his personal effects until she found the salve she was looking for—one he had previously applied to bruises of her own. Hands shaking as she walked back over, she took a deep breath and forced them to still. Her fear and worry would do nothing for them now, and this time, she would not be the weak one. This time, she had to help him.
Carefully opening the jar and setting the lid to the side, she scooped up some of the lineament onto her fingertips, starting tentatively with the darkest bruise near his ribs. Her touch was tender and feather-light, smoothing the salve over the scribe’s skin as gently as she could. “You’ve got to be more careful around him,” she scolded lightly, her face strained into lines of concern. “The Pharaoh’s temper knows few boundaries, and I’d hate to see you come away from him… worse than this.” Nia’s voice nearly broke in that pause, unable to bear the thought of anything happening to the man she tended so delicately. She knew Iahotep’s rage intimately, just as she knew this was tame compared to what he was capable of.
Her fingers glided lovingly up toward his shoulder blade, rubbing in gentle circles to work the ointment into his skin. “Does anything feel broken?” she asked quietly, eyeing the deep bruising that ran along his ribs. A gentle kiss was placed with gossamer lips along the curve of his shoulder before her hand replaced her mouth, the smell of mint and camphor wafting toward her nose. She continued to massage the salve into his back, interspersing tender kisses along his skin when her hand lifted away. “Can you breathe without pain?”
Concern was written in her voice as clearly as it was painted across her face, her heart clenching almost painfully tight. Was this how he felt when she walked in the room after one of her sessions with the Pharaoh, limping and bruised? Stepping back after she’d covered the last of the wounds she could see, she circled around to the other side of the bench to see if there was more she’d missed.
A gentle finger lifted Zoser’s chin so his face would catch the light, highlighting the bruising along his jaw. Ever so carefully, she applied the same treatment she’d given his back, lightly rubbing the salve over his swollen jawbone with the most delicate of touches. The young woman’s hand lingered against his face perhaps a minute longer than necessary, the ball of her thumb stroking over his cheek.
She was quiet for several long moments as she looked down at him, the hand against his face sliding up to sift slowly through his hair. There was nothing Nia wanted more than to lean down and press her mouth to his, to forget all of this had happened and lose themselves in each other instead. However, she didn’t want to hurt him, and she was sure the passion that kiss would stir would only be more detrimental in the long term. Instead, she contented herself by brushing her lips over his forehead and briefly resting her head against his.
“Sit up,” she finally commanded in a murmur, drawing back enough that her soft gaze held his. Letting her hand drop from his head, the corner of her lips tilted in a half-smile. “Let me see the front of you.”
Oh, alright. But, only because a few are hard to reach and you are far more beautiful than Khufu ever will be.
His words did indeed spark the smile he hoped for, the expression crinkling her eyes and softening her face. However, as soon as Zoser relented and dropped his robe, that smile was gone just as soon as it had appeared. Nia’s sharp gasp echoed through the archives at the sight of the mottled bruising, one hand snapping up in horror to cover her mouth.
“Oh, Zoser…” the cracked words were nearly inaudible through her palm, her free hand reaching to hover helplessly over his back. She wished that simply her touch could soothe away the pain, make the marks disappear, but unfortunately, Nia possessed no such powers. As it was, she was nearly afraid to touch him at all, sure she would only exacerbate his misery.
Rising to her feet, she started shuffling through his personal effects until she found the salve she was looking for—one he had previously applied to bruises of her own. Hands shaking as she walked back over, she took a deep breath and forced them to still. Her fear and worry would do nothing for them now, and this time, she would not be the weak one. This time, she had to help him.
Carefully opening the jar and setting the lid to the side, she scooped up some of the lineament onto her fingertips, starting tentatively with the darkest bruise near his ribs. Her touch was tender and feather-light, smoothing the salve over the scribe’s skin as gently as she could. “You’ve got to be more careful around him,” she scolded lightly, her face strained into lines of concern. “The Pharaoh’s temper knows few boundaries, and I’d hate to see you come away from him… worse than this.” Nia’s voice nearly broke in that pause, unable to bear the thought of anything happening to the man she tended so delicately. She knew Iahotep’s rage intimately, just as she knew this was tame compared to what he was capable of.
Her fingers glided lovingly up toward his shoulder blade, rubbing in gentle circles to work the ointment into his skin. “Does anything feel broken?” she asked quietly, eyeing the deep bruising that ran along his ribs. A gentle kiss was placed with gossamer lips along the curve of his shoulder before her hand replaced her mouth, the smell of mint and camphor wafting toward her nose. She continued to massage the salve into his back, interspersing tender kisses along his skin when her hand lifted away. “Can you breathe without pain?”
Concern was written in her voice as clearly as it was painted across her face, her heart clenching almost painfully tight. Was this how he felt when she walked in the room after one of her sessions with the Pharaoh, limping and bruised? Stepping back after she’d covered the last of the wounds she could see, she circled around to the other side of the bench to see if there was more she’d missed.
A gentle finger lifted Zoser’s chin so his face would catch the light, highlighting the bruising along his jaw. Ever so carefully, she applied the same treatment she’d given his back, lightly rubbing the salve over his swollen jawbone with the most delicate of touches. The young woman’s hand lingered against his face perhaps a minute longer than necessary, the ball of her thumb stroking over his cheek.
She was quiet for several long moments as she looked down at him, the hand against his face sliding up to sift slowly through his hair. There was nothing Nia wanted more than to lean down and press her mouth to his, to forget all of this had happened and lose themselves in each other instead. However, she didn’t want to hurt him, and she was sure the passion that kiss would stir would only be more detrimental in the long term. Instead, she contented herself by brushing her lips over his forehead and briefly resting her head against his.
“Sit up,” she finally commanded in a murmur, drawing back enough that her soft gaze held his. Letting her hand drop from his head, the corner of her lips tilted in a half-smile. “Let me see the front of you.”
Zoser practically winced at the sound of her gasp echoing through the halls, looking up at her in a way that was part cautious and part apologetic. The corners of his lips tugged down in agony as he saw the worried look in her eyes. Ideally, he could have just gone back to Skylla or waited until morning for Khufu to awkwardly help him apply the salve the worst of the bruises, all the while making jests that ensure the touch was entirely masculine and out of necessity. He regretted being in any way a cause for Neithotep's distress, but he could not hold up against her insistence.
"Don't, it's not that bad," Zoser repeated, unsure if he was trying to fool her or himself with his words. For a brief moment, he closed his eyes, scrunching them tight as if to will away the throbbing from the back of his skull that seemed to radiate forward behind his eyeslids. The bouts of confusion came and went and he was grateful for her presence, it seemed to offer some clarity.
His eyelids fluttered open again once he sensed her moving back to his side. His elbows were still perched on his knees, and when he turned his head, he could only partially see the network over her kalasaris and the way her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders like an ebony waterfall. His gaze quirked up a little higher to watch her ruby lips as she chastised him, feeling a glimmer of amusement at how the tables turned followed by a seeping sadness at their circumstances - both of them.
Sentimentality surged in his chest, causing him to swallow hard as he thought of the way she cared for him - loved him, as she had written - and there was the brief stinging of that emotion that reached to his eyes, causing him to glance away and blink a few times rapidly to keep it from showing. If she loved and cared about him even a fraction of the way he loved and cared about her, it would be more than he ever thought he could deserve in this lifetime or the next.
"Oh, something is absolutely broken," Zoser assured her with a slightly strained laugh in his voice as he felt the pressure of her fingers against the very bones he referenced. For the first few hours afterwards, he felt as if he could not breath - gasping like a fish left on the docks as he was tended to by the physician woman. That stilling of his breath happened again, for a different reason, as he felt her kiss on his skin.
Desire flooded him and he felt the heat of want for her flood through his core. He closed his eyes again as if to dissuade it completely, but with his mind addled and his body having been put through such an ordeal, his primal instincts practically begged for any strand of pleasure it could grasp onto.
"Yes, now," he corrected, clarifying. About two days ago, he could not say the same.
When her hand turned his face up to hers, his eyes were soft. He took in every angle of her face, the roundness of her eyes, the gently pout of her lips, the warm tones of her skin. He memorized her face as he had memorized Greek poems all those years ago, when he was half his current height and skinnier than a willow branch. Those words would never fade from his mind, nor would her visage. The stinging of her fingers pressing the salve into his bruised jaw could not distract him.
Zoser indulged in a soft moan as she ran her fingers through his hair, letting it rumble in his throat a moment as he tilted his head towards her touch, eyes closed. He could feel her leaning in closer to him and his head tilted back to naturally embrace her in a kiss, but to his surprise, her lips did not meet his, but instead his forehead - a touch of tenderness when all he wanted in that moment was far from innocent. He kept their foreheads together for a long moment, his hand reaching up to splay and curl gently across her arm, connecting them in as many ways as possible now.
Catching her gaze with a deep one of his own, he let his hand drift down from her arm to fit in the curve of her side, his other mirroring the move but slightly lower on her hip. He met her half-smile with a smirk of his own.
"Alright, but...like this," he encouraged, leaning back slowly and deliberately while drawing her in closer by the hips. His shoulderblades would make contact with the wall behind him to support him sitting upright, but as he pulled her closer, her knees would it the stone bench between his legs...unless she chose to straddle his lap.
There was no denying it was what they both wanted.
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Zoser practically winced at the sound of her gasp echoing through the halls, looking up at her in a way that was part cautious and part apologetic. The corners of his lips tugged down in agony as he saw the worried look in her eyes. Ideally, he could have just gone back to Skylla or waited until morning for Khufu to awkwardly help him apply the salve the worst of the bruises, all the while making jests that ensure the touch was entirely masculine and out of necessity. He regretted being in any way a cause for Neithotep's distress, but he could not hold up against her insistence.
"Don't, it's not that bad," Zoser repeated, unsure if he was trying to fool her or himself with his words. For a brief moment, he closed his eyes, scrunching them tight as if to will away the throbbing from the back of his skull that seemed to radiate forward behind his eyeslids. The bouts of confusion came and went and he was grateful for her presence, it seemed to offer some clarity.
His eyelids fluttered open again once he sensed her moving back to his side. His elbows were still perched on his knees, and when he turned his head, he could only partially see the network over her kalasaris and the way her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders like an ebony waterfall. His gaze quirked up a little higher to watch her ruby lips as she chastised him, feeling a glimmer of amusement at how the tables turned followed by a seeping sadness at their circumstances - both of them.
Sentimentality surged in his chest, causing him to swallow hard as he thought of the way she cared for him - loved him, as she had written - and there was the brief stinging of that emotion that reached to his eyes, causing him to glance away and blink a few times rapidly to keep it from showing. If she loved and cared about him even a fraction of the way he loved and cared about her, it would be more than he ever thought he could deserve in this lifetime or the next.
"Oh, something is absolutely broken," Zoser assured her with a slightly strained laugh in his voice as he felt the pressure of her fingers against the very bones he referenced. For the first few hours afterwards, he felt as if he could not breath - gasping like a fish left on the docks as he was tended to by the physician woman. That stilling of his breath happened again, for a different reason, as he felt her kiss on his skin.
Desire flooded him and he felt the heat of want for her flood through his core. He closed his eyes again as if to dissuade it completely, but with his mind addled and his body having been put through such an ordeal, his primal instincts practically begged for any strand of pleasure it could grasp onto.
"Yes, now," he corrected, clarifying. About two days ago, he could not say the same.
When her hand turned his face up to hers, his eyes were soft. He took in every angle of her face, the roundness of her eyes, the gently pout of her lips, the warm tones of her skin. He memorized her face as he had memorized Greek poems all those years ago, when he was half his current height and skinnier than a willow branch. Those words would never fade from his mind, nor would her visage. The stinging of her fingers pressing the salve into his bruised jaw could not distract him.
Zoser indulged in a soft moan as she ran her fingers through his hair, letting it rumble in his throat a moment as he tilted his head towards her touch, eyes closed. He could feel her leaning in closer to him and his head tilted back to naturally embrace her in a kiss, but to his surprise, her lips did not meet his, but instead his forehead - a touch of tenderness when all he wanted in that moment was far from innocent. He kept their foreheads together for a long moment, his hand reaching up to splay and curl gently across her arm, connecting them in as many ways as possible now.
Catching her gaze with a deep one of his own, he let his hand drift down from her arm to fit in the curve of her side, his other mirroring the move but slightly lower on her hip. He met her half-smile with a smirk of his own.
"Alright, but...like this," he encouraged, leaning back slowly and deliberately while drawing her in closer by the hips. His shoulderblades would make contact with the wall behind him to support him sitting upright, but as he pulled her closer, her knees would it the stone bench between his legs...unless she chose to straddle his lap.
There was no denying it was what they both wanted.
Zoser practically winced at the sound of her gasp echoing through the halls, looking up at her in a way that was part cautious and part apologetic. The corners of his lips tugged down in agony as he saw the worried look in her eyes. Ideally, he could have just gone back to Skylla or waited until morning for Khufu to awkwardly help him apply the salve the worst of the bruises, all the while making jests that ensure the touch was entirely masculine and out of necessity. He regretted being in any way a cause for Neithotep's distress, but he could not hold up against her insistence.
"Don't, it's not that bad," Zoser repeated, unsure if he was trying to fool her or himself with his words. For a brief moment, he closed his eyes, scrunching them tight as if to will away the throbbing from the back of his skull that seemed to radiate forward behind his eyeslids. The bouts of confusion came and went and he was grateful for her presence, it seemed to offer some clarity.
His eyelids fluttered open again once he sensed her moving back to his side. His elbows were still perched on his knees, and when he turned his head, he could only partially see the network over her kalasaris and the way her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders like an ebony waterfall. His gaze quirked up a little higher to watch her ruby lips as she chastised him, feeling a glimmer of amusement at how the tables turned followed by a seeping sadness at their circumstances - both of them.
Sentimentality surged in his chest, causing him to swallow hard as he thought of the way she cared for him - loved him, as she had written - and there was the brief stinging of that emotion that reached to his eyes, causing him to glance away and blink a few times rapidly to keep it from showing. If she loved and cared about him even a fraction of the way he loved and cared about her, it would be more than he ever thought he could deserve in this lifetime or the next.
"Oh, something is absolutely broken," Zoser assured her with a slightly strained laugh in his voice as he felt the pressure of her fingers against the very bones he referenced. For the first few hours afterwards, he felt as if he could not breath - gasping like a fish left on the docks as he was tended to by the physician woman. That stilling of his breath happened again, for a different reason, as he felt her kiss on his skin.
Desire flooded him and he felt the heat of want for her flood through his core. He closed his eyes again as if to dissuade it completely, but with his mind addled and his body having been put through such an ordeal, his primal instincts practically begged for any strand of pleasure it could grasp onto.
"Yes, now," he corrected, clarifying. About two days ago, he could not say the same.
When her hand turned his face up to hers, his eyes were soft. He took in every angle of her face, the roundness of her eyes, the gently pout of her lips, the warm tones of her skin. He memorized her face as he had memorized Greek poems all those years ago, when he was half his current height and skinnier than a willow branch. Those words would never fade from his mind, nor would her visage. The stinging of her fingers pressing the salve into his bruised jaw could not distract him.
Zoser indulged in a soft moan as she ran her fingers through his hair, letting it rumble in his throat a moment as he tilted his head towards her touch, eyes closed. He could feel her leaning in closer to him and his head tilted back to naturally embrace her in a kiss, but to his surprise, her lips did not meet his, but instead his forehead - a touch of tenderness when all he wanted in that moment was far from innocent. He kept their foreheads together for a long moment, his hand reaching up to splay and curl gently across her arm, connecting them in as many ways as possible now.
Catching her gaze with a deep one of his own, he let his hand drift down from her arm to fit in the curve of her side, his other mirroring the move but slightly lower on her hip. He met her half-smile with a smirk of his own.
"Alright, but...like this," he encouraged, leaning back slowly and deliberately while drawing her in closer by the hips. His shoulderblades would make contact with the wall behind him to support him sitting upright, but as he pulled her closer, her knees would it the stone bench between his legs...unless she chose to straddle his lap.
There was no denying it was what they both wanted.
There was heat in Zoser’s gaze as it locked with hers, an answering heat so similar to the one she tried to restrain. Now hardly seemed like the time to consummate the passion that brewed between them, but with that look in his eye, the tenderness of his touch against her skin…Nia was finding it harder and harder to resist giving in to what they both so clearly wanted.
Gentle hands pulled her closer by the hips, light fingers reaching to caress his face. There was something very singular in the way he looked at her, something she recognized very clearly, and for once in her life, the young noblewoman hesitated. She could feel her body responding, leaning into him as her knees parted to rest on either side of his. Hovering just over his lap, her hand ran through his hair again as a tender gaze rested on his. But even as her body started to mold against his where his arms wrapped around her, there was a lone voice that protested in the back of her mind.
He’s hurt! You’ll only hurt him more!
It was true. Physically, emotionally, mentally, this was bound to end in more pain than not. With broken bones and bruises covering so much of the skin she grazed with careful fingertips, how could they manage this without making everything worse? And to say nothing of the emotional toll this would take if they were found out, the consequences that could ensue…
But gods if those weren’t risks that she was willing to take.
Roaming hands came back together to gently cup his face, barely touching, but with enough heat to sear them both. His mouth was right there, parted and practically begging to meet hers. Her thumb slowly ran over his lower lip while teeth worried at her own, dark glittering orbs flicking between his mouth and his eyes. He was right there within her grasp, and she could feel her resolve weakening with each second that ticked by. How could she stop this when it was something she so ardently wished for herself?
It was more than a physical desire, which the hedonistic girl had a hard enough time suppressing in itself. She’d meant every word of the letter she penned to him and with each minute, she could feel her heart squeezing in the vice grip his gaze so steadily maintained. There were hardly words to express what she felt for him in that moment, and she despaired of ever finding that sort of love again. Could she really let it slip between her fingers when it fell so neatly into her grasp?
“Zoser,” she whispered, her lips hovering just inches from his. Closing her eyes, she swallowed before she asked, “Are you sure?”
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There was heat in Zoser’s gaze as it locked with hers, an answering heat so similar to the one she tried to restrain. Now hardly seemed like the time to consummate the passion that brewed between them, but with that look in his eye, the tenderness of his touch against her skin…Nia was finding it harder and harder to resist giving in to what they both so clearly wanted.
Gentle hands pulled her closer by the hips, light fingers reaching to caress his face. There was something very singular in the way he looked at her, something she recognized very clearly, and for once in her life, the young noblewoman hesitated. She could feel her body responding, leaning into him as her knees parted to rest on either side of his. Hovering just over his lap, her hand ran through his hair again as a tender gaze rested on his. But even as her body started to mold against his where his arms wrapped around her, there was a lone voice that protested in the back of her mind.
He’s hurt! You’ll only hurt him more!
It was true. Physically, emotionally, mentally, this was bound to end in more pain than not. With broken bones and bruises covering so much of the skin she grazed with careful fingertips, how could they manage this without making everything worse? And to say nothing of the emotional toll this would take if they were found out, the consequences that could ensue…
But gods if those weren’t risks that she was willing to take.
Roaming hands came back together to gently cup his face, barely touching, but with enough heat to sear them both. His mouth was right there, parted and practically begging to meet hers. Her thumb slowly ran over his lower lip while teeth worried at her own, dark glittering orbs flicking between his mouth and his eyes. He was right there within her grasp, and she could feel her resolve weakening with each second that ticked by. How could she stop this when it was something she so ardently wished for herself?
It was more than a physical desire, which the hedonistic girl had a hard enough time suppressing in itself. She’d meant every word of the letter she penned to him and with each minute, she could feel her heart squeezing in the vice grip his gaze so steadily maintained. There were hardly words to express what she felt for him in that moment, and she despaired of ever finding that sort of love again. Could she really let it slip between her fingers when it fell so neatly into her grasp?
“Zoser,” she whispered, her lips hovering just inches from his. Closing her eyes, she swallowed before she asked, “Are you sure?”
There was heat in Zoser’s gaze as it locked with hers, an answering heat so similar to the one she tried to restrain. Now hardly seemed like the time to consummate the passion that brewed between them, but with that look in his eye, the tenderness of his touch against her skin…Nia was finding it harder and harder to resist giving in to what they both so clearly wanted.
Gentle hands pulled her closer by the hips, light fingers reaching to caress his face. There was something very singular in the way he looked at her, something she recognized very clearly, and for once in her life, the young noblewoman hesitated. She could feel her body responding, leaning into him as her knees parted to rest on either side of his. Hovering just over his lap, her hand ran through his hair again as a tender gaze rested on his. But even as her body started to mold against his where his arms wrapped around her, there was a lone voice that protested in the back of her mind.
He’s hurt! You’ll only hurt him more!
It was true. Physically, emotionally, mentally, this was bound to end in more pain than not. With broken bones and bruises covering so much of the skin she grazed with careful fingertips, how could they manage this without making everything worse? And to say nothing of the emotional toll this would take if they were found out, the consequences that could ensue…
But gods if those weren’t risks that she was willing to take.
Roaming hands came back together to gently cup his face, barely touching, but with enough heat to sear them both. His mouth was right there, parted and practically begging to meet hers. Her thumb slowly ran over his lower lip while teeth worried at her own, dark glittering orbs flicking between his mouth and his eyes. He was right there within her grasp, and she could feel her resolve weakening with each second that ticked by. How could she stop this when it was something she so ardently wished for herself?
It was more than a physical desire, which the hedonistic girl had a hard enough time suppressing in itself. She’d meant every word of the letter she penned to him and with each minute, she could feel her heart squeezing in the vice grip his gaze so steadily maintained. There were hardly words to express what she felt for him in that moment, and she despaired of ever finding that sort of love again. Could she really let it slip between her fingers when it fell so neatly into her grasp?
“Zoser,” she whispered, her lips hovering just inches from his. Closing her eyes, she swallowed before she asked, “Are you sure?”
Zoser wanted to savor this moment forever - the warmth, the tenderness, the anticipation. He was not innocent to the wants of the body by any means, but to feel it with such an emotion tied to it was foreign to him. It was frightening in many ways. Fear and excitement were easily confused in the mind and body, and while he did not fear her necessarily, he feared how much she mattered to him. It was more dangerous now than ever.
As she drew closer to him at his beckoning, her fingers traced through his hair distractingly. Neithotep's hesitation was clear in the way she did not settle onto his lap but hovered over him, and he understood. He had felt the same way when he last tended her own injuries, fearing that his lips on hers would resplit the seam that one of the pharaoh's blows had left on her. Yet, it had not stopped them then.
Zoser did not want this to stop now.
Looking up at her with lusty, trusting eyes, he felt the skin of his face heat beneath her touch. As tender as each stroke of her finger enticed him more, his own hand began to curl around the small of her back, splaying across the bare skin of her torso as the other drifted from the curve of her hip down to rest on her thigh, his thumb curling around to the inner length of it.
As she bit her lip, he felt as though he was going to come undone.
"I have never been more certain," Zoser asked, his voice husky with want as his thigh suggestive dragged the fabric of her kalasaris up and over her knee. Their lips were so close that their ragged, wanting breath mingled with one anothers. His nose made a gentle pass at the side of her own, his chin lifting so as to catch her lips right after murmuring, "I love you."
The words had never crossed his lips before that moment, not once in his life. A man with no family to claim as his own and a mother who died when he was too young, it seemed an impossibility. Here, nearing this age in his life as a man without attachment, it seemed impossible to find someone to make him utter the words. Even worse, the woman in his arms, who he tugged in closer into his kiss and now stroked his hand along the bare skin of her thigh, was so far beyond his grasp - an utter impossibility. It almost made him want it more, to spite the fates that pitted him so far against her.
That aching jealousy for a life and a woman he could never have but had been brought so close to him now only fueled the passion behind his kiss. His splayed hand pressed and urged her down to his lap so she could feel just how badly he wanted this - how he wanted her. It was vulgar that somehow this was the way it wanted to manifest - something base and carnal when he felt it so deeply within his heart, yet in this moment, his mind could not fight the will of the body.
"Please..."
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Zoser wanted to savor this moment forever - the warmth, the tenderness, the anticipation. He was not innocent to the wants of the body by any means, but to feel it with such an emotion tied to it was foreign to him. It was frightening in many ways. Fear and excitement were easily confused in the mind and body, and while he did not fear her necessarily, he feared how much she mattered to him. It was more dangerous now than ever.
As she drew closer to him at his beckoning, her fingers traced through his hair distractingly. Neithotep's hesitation was clear in the way she did not settle onto his lap but hovered over him, and he understood. He had felt the same way when he last tended her own injuries, fearing that his lips on hers would resplit the seam that one of the pharaoh's blows had left on her. Yet, it had not stopped them then.
Zoser did not want this to stop now.
Looking up at her with lusty, trusting eyes, he felt the skin of his face heat beneath her touch. As tender as each stroke of her finger enticed him more, his own hand began to curl around the small of her back, splaying across the bare skin of her torso as the other drifted from the curve of her hip down to rest on her thigh, his thumb curling around to the inner length of it.
As she bit her lip, he felt as though he was going to come undone.
"I have never been more certain," Zoser asked, his voice husky with want as his thigh suggestive dragged the fabric of her kalasaris up and over her knee. Their lips were so close that their ragged, wanting breath mingled with one anothers. His nose made a gentle pass at the side of her own, his chin lifting so as to catch her lips right after murmuring, "I love you."
The words had never crossed his lips before that moment, not once in his life. A man with no family to claim as his own and a mother who died when he was too young, it seemed an impossibility. Here, nearing this age in his life as a man without attachment, it seemed impossible to find someone to make him utter the words. Even worse, the woman in his arms, who he tugged in closer into his kiss and now stroked his hand along the bare skin of her thigh, was so far beyond his grasp - an utter impossibility. It almost made him want it more, to spite the fates that pitted him so far against her.
That aching jealousy for a life and a woman he could never have but had been brought so close to him now only fueled the passion behind his kiss. His splayed hand pressed and urged her down to his lap so she could feel just how badly he wanted this - how he wanted her. It was vulgar that somehow this was the way it wanted to manifest - something base and carnal when he felt it so deeply within his heart, yet in this moment, his mind could not fight the will of the body.
"Please..."
Zoser wanted to savor this moment forever - the warmth, the tenderness, the anticipation. He was not innocent to the wants of the body by any means, but to feel it with such an emotion tied to it was foreign to him. It was frightening in many ways. Fear and excitement were easily confused in the mind and body, and while he did not fear her necessarily, he feared how much she mattered to him. It was more dangerous now than ever.
As she drew closer to him at his beckoning, her fingers traced through his hair distractingly. Neithotep's hesitation was clear in the way she did not settle onto his lap but hovered over him, and he understood. He had felt the same way when he last tended her own injuries, fearing that his lips on hers would resplit the seam that one of the pharaoh's blows had left on her. Yet, it had not stopped them then.
Zoser did not want this to stop now.
Looking up at her with lusty, trusting eyes, he felt the skin of his face heat beneath her touch. As tender as each stroke of her finger enticed him more, his own hand began to curl around the small of her back, splaying across the bare skin of her torso as the other drifted from the curve of her hip down to rest on her thigh, his thumb curling around to the inner length of it.
As she bit her lip, he felt as though he was going to come undone.
"I have never been more certain," Zoser asked, his voice husky with want as his thigh suggestive dragged the fabric of her kalasaris up and over her knee. Their lips were so close that their ragged, wanting breath mingled with one anothers. His nose made a gentle pass at the side of her own, his chin lifting so as to catch her lips right after murmuring, "I love you."
The words had never crossed his lips before that moment, not once in his life. A man with no family to claim as his own and a mother who died when he was too young, it seemed an impossibility. Here, nearing this age in his life as a man without attachment, it seemed impossible to find someone to make him utter the words. Even worse, the woman in his arms, who he tugged in closer into his kiss and now stroked his hand along the bare skin of her thigh, was so far beyond his grasp - an utter impossibility. It almost made him want it more, to spite the fates that pitted him so far against her.
That aching jealousy for a life and a woman he could never have but had been brought so close to him now only fueled the passion behind his kiss. His splayed hand pressed and urged her down to his lap so she could feel just how badly he wanted this - how he wanted her. It was vulgar that somehow this was the way it wanted to manifest - something base and carnal when he felt it so deeply within his heart, yet in this moment, his mind could not fight the will of the body.
"Please..."
I love you.
His lips stopped her reply before she could utter it, returning his kiss with a fiery passion that would not easily be quelled. I love you. They were the words she always longed to hear but so rarely did, the high she constantly chased but always fell short. Nia was a creature that basked in such emotion, but it was one she gave so freely and almost never received in return. How many times had she heard that phrase and was fully confident the lips that formed it actually meant what they said?
With a gasp, the kiss was broken, dark eyes glassy with unshed tears. Had she even heard him correctly? Was it true that he felt for her what she so deeply felt for him? Knuckles brushing down his cheek, she leaned in to kiss him again, one tear forcing its way down her cheek at the sweetness of it all. After so many nights forced to a bed she had no desire to share and enslaved by a dark passion that she was helpless to escape from, this was like fresh air to someone on the verge of suffocation, like food for the hungry, like water for the parched.
I love you.
Those were the three most powerful words any one person could utter, words that could save or destroy both the speaker and the recipient. In their case, that was more true than not, a dangerous utterance that could bury them both. But in that moment, she didn’t care. All she wanted was to hear him say it again and again, until their voices were gone and their ashes scattered to the dust.
“I love you, too,” she finally whispered in return, pulling back just enough to look at his face. “More than anything. More than anyone. If I could see your face and hear your voice every moment of every day, it still wouldn’t be enough.”
His soft plea was enough to make her abandon her reservations, his hands pulling her further against the hardness that nudged between her thighs. If she’d had any doubts before, they were gone now, scattered to the wind with the feeling of his body against hers. There were no more questions, no more hesitation. In the moment her lips met his again, Neithotep H’Sheifa surrendered completely and let logic fall by the wayside.
“I love you,” she whispered again as her lips trailed down his cheek to his neck, her hands roaming carefully up the length of his exposed torso. “I love you.” Her hips moved carefully against his with an exhaled breath, a soft sound of pleasure rumbling in the back of her throat. One hand took his, none too subtly leading it up to the ties that kept her kalasiris in place. Letting their entwined fingers divest her of the filmy clothing that covered her torso, she leaned into him again, peppering his unbruised skin with kisses more tender than any she’d bestowed before.
“Say it again,” she murmured, her tongue idly tracing a path up to his ear. “Say it a million times more.”
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I love you.
His lips stopped her reply before she could utter it, returning his kiss with a fiery passion that would not easily be quelled. I love you. They were the words she always longed to hear but so rarely did, the high she constantly chased but always fell short. Nia was a creature that basked in such emotion, but it was one she gave so freely and almost never received in return. How many times had she heard that phrase and was fully confident the lips that formed it actually meant what they said?
With a gasp, the kiss was broken, dark eyes glassy with unshed tears. Had she even heard him correctly? Was it true that he felt for her what she so deeply felt for him? Knuckles brushing down his cheek, she leaned in to kiss him again, one tear forcing its way down her cheek at the sweetness of it all. After so many nights forced to a bed she had no desire to share and enslaved by a dark passion that she was helpless to escape from, this was like fresh air to someone on the verge of suffocation, like food for the hungry, like water for the parched.
I love you.
Those were the three most powerful words any one person could utter, words that could save or destroy both the speaker and the recipient. In their case, that was more true than not, a dangerous utterance that could bury them both. But in that moment, she didn’t care. All she wanted was to hear him say it again and again, until their voices were gone and their ashes scattered to the dust.
“I love you, too,” she finally whispered in return, pulling back just enough to look at his face. “More than anything. More than anyone. If I could see your face and hear your voice every moment of every day, it still wouldn’t be enough.”
His soft plea was enough to make her abandon her reservations, his hands pulling her further against the hardness that nudged between her thighs. If she’d had any doubts before, they were gone now, scattered to the wind with the feeling of his body against hers. There were no more questions, no more hesitation. In the moment her lips met his again, Neithotep H’Sheifa surrendered completely and let logic fall by the wayside.
“I love you,” she whispered again as her lips trailed down his cheek to his neck, her hands roaming carefully up the length of his exposed torso. “I love you.” Her hips moved carefully against his with an exhaled breath, a soft sound of pleasure rumbling in the back of her throat. One hand took his, none too subtly leading it up to the ties that kept her kalasiris in place. Letting their entwined fingers divest her of the filmy clothing that covered her torso, she leaned into him again, peppering his unbruised skin with kisses more tender than any she’d bestowed before.
“Say it again,” she murmured, her tongue idly tracing a path up to his ear. “Say it a million times more.”
I love you.
His lips stopped her reply before she could utter it, returning his kiss with a fiery passion that would not easily be quelled. I love you. They were the words she always longed to hear but so rarely did, the high she constantly chased but always fell short. Nia was a creature that basked in such emotion, but it was one she gave so freely and almost never received in return. How many times had she heard that phrase and was fully confident the lips that formed it actually meant what they said?
With a gasp, the kiss was broken, dark eyes glassy with unshed tears. Had she even heard him correctly? Was it true that he felt for her what she so deeply felt for him? Knuckles brushing down his cheek, she leaned in to kiss him again, one tear forcing its way down her cheek at the sweetness of it all. After so many nights forced to a bed she had no desire to share and enslaved by a dark passion that she was helpless to escape from, this was like fresh air to someone on the verge of suffocation, like food for the hungry, like water for the parched.
I love you.
Those were the three most powerful words any one person could utter, words that could save or destroy both the speaker and the recipient. In their case, that was more true than not, a dangerous utterance that could bury them both. But in that moment, she didn’t care. All she wanted was to hear him say it again and again, until their voices were gone and their ashes scattered to the dust.
“I love you, too,” she finally whispered in return, pulling back just enough to look at his face. “More than anything. More than anyone. If I could see your face and hear your voice every moment of every day, it still wouldn’t be enough.”
His soft plea was enough to make her abandon her reservations, his hands pulling her further against the hardness that nudged between her thighs. If she’d had any doubts before, they were gone now, scattered to the wind with the feeling of his body against hers. There were no more questions, no more hesitation. In the moment her lips met his again, Neithotep H’Sheifa surrendered completely and let logic fall by the wayside.
“I love you,” she whispered again as her lips trailed down his cheek to his neck, her hands roaming carefully up the length of his exposed torso. “I love you.” Her hips moved carefully against his with an exhaled breath, a soft sound of pleasure rumbling in the back of her throat. One hand took his, none too subtly leading it up to the ties that kept her kalasiris in place. Letting their entwined fingers divest her of the filmy clothing that covered her torso, she leaned into him again, peppering his unbruised skin with kisses more tender than any she’d bestowed before.
“Say it again,” she murmured, her tongue idly tracing a path up to his ear. “Say it a million times more.”
Zoser's body and mind were both in agony, whether in physical pain or in mental reproach over what was clearly the worst possible action they could take. Yet, the years of pushing aside the wills and wants of the heart had stored all of its efforts, building up to create a tidal wave that could not be stopped.
No matter how his body hurt, no matter the consequences should they be caught. It was clear to him that neither of them had something that was truly their own in this life - so, in this moment, why not take it?
His eyes watched hers after he said the words, and reached up to cup her cheek so that he could brush away the tear that threatened to fall with his thumb before letting that same hand float featherlight across her shoulder and to her back, almost as if to ever keep her from leaving him.
It was easy for him to say the words to her, but once they were reflected back to him and with such passion, it was almost overwhelming. He had been alone for so long, and he was a fool for thinking that this could be the answer - but by the gods, it was all he wanted. A life where he was not alone, but with her in his arms. He swallowed a moment and made to hide the flood of emotion by leaning in slightly to kiss her chest, lingering there a moment to compose himself as he breathed in the scent of her.
Zoser lifted his head as her hands guided his to untie the kalasaris, and his fingers made quick work of the ties - years of experience does such a thing. What few thoughts his mind managed pull together in those moments disappeared as she left a trail of kisses and professions of love across his body, accompanied by the tantilizing roll of her hips.
He could not bear it any longer.
A groan of discomfort merged with a moan of desire as he sat forward in a surge, his lips capturing hers in a deep, passionate embrace as his hands slid across her body, tangled in the fabric of the kalasaris as they did so. Freeing one hand briefly, he made quick work of pulling his own coverings aside, freeing himself in the narrow space between them. His breath shaky with anticipation he glanced down briefly, his hand stroking along her thigh before looking up to her again with lust-darkened eyes as he pulled them together.
Heat and friction heightened the moment they joined, almost maddening as he used the cage of his arms around her to pull her closer and deeper. Already, his body gave its protests to its own desires - he wanted to have her now, fiercely, and unforgiving - but that could not be. Not without giving pause.
As much as he wanted more, he set a slower, deeper pace - a lover's pace. Every movement was slow and languid, something that under other circumstances could become dull...but, with neither of them knowing if this would be their only time together like this, Zoser wanted to savor every moment.
With every open-mouthed kiss he placed on her skin as her hips rolled against his carried a promise, each time he said her name. Every ounce of his being was entirely under her spell, woven together into a knot that could never be undone, as far as he was concerned.
Logic would fight that when it came into the picture again, but it was not present at all in the moment.
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Zoser's body and mind were both in agony, whether in physical pain or in mental reproach over what was clearly the worst possible action they could take. Yet, the years of pushing aside the wills and wants of the heart had stored all of its efforts, building up to create a tidal wave that could not be stopped.
No matter how his body hurt, no matter the consequences should they be caught. It was clear to him that neither of them had something that was truly their own in this life - so, in this moment, why not take it?
His eyes watched hers after he said the words, and reached up to cup her cheek so that he could brush away the tear that threatened to fall with his thumb before letting that same hand float featherlight across her shoulder and to her back, almost as if to ever keep her from leaving him.
It was easy for him to say the words to her, but once they were reflected back to him and with such passion, it was almost overwhelming. He had been alone for so long, and he was a fool for thinking that this could be the answer - but by the gods, it was all he wanted. A life where he was not alone, but with her in his arms. He swallowed a moment and made to hide the flood of emotion by leaning in slightly to kiss her chest, lingering there a moment to compose himself as he breathed in the scent of her.
Zoser lifted his head as her hands guided his to untie the kalasaris, and his fingers made quick work of the ties - years of experience does such a thing. What few thoughts his mind managed pull together in those moments disappeared as she left a trail of kisses and professions of love across his body, accompanied by the tantilizing roll of her hips.
He could not bear it any longer.
A groan of discomfort merged with a moan of desire as he sat forward in a surge, his lips capturing hers in a deep, passionate embrace as his hands slid across her body, tangled in the fabric of the kalasaris as they did so. Freeing one hand briefly, he made quick work of pulling his own coverings aside, freeing himself in the narrow space between them. His breath shaky with anticipation he glanced down briefly, his hand stroking along her thigh before looking up to her again with lust-darkened eyes as he pulled them together.
Heat and friction heightened the moment they joined, almost maddening as he used the cage of his arms around her to pull her closer and deeper. Already, his body gave its protests to its own desires - he wanted to have her now, fiercely, and unforgiving - but that could not be. Not without giving pause.
As much as he wanted more, he set a slower, deeper pace - a lover's pace. Every movement was slow and languid, something that under other circumstances could become dull...but, with neither of them knowing if this would be their only time together like this, Zoser wanted to savor every moment.
With every open-mouthed kiss he placed on her skin as her hips rolled against his carried a promise, each time he said her name. Every ounce of his being was entirely under her spell, woven together into a knot that could never be undone, as far as he was concerned.
Logic would fight that when it came into the picture again, but it was not present at all in the moment.
Zoser's body and mind were both in agony, whether in physical pain or in mental reproach over what was clearly the worst possible action they could take. Yet, the years of pushing aside the wills and wants of the heart had stored all of its efforts, building up to create a tidal wave that could not be stopped.
No matter how his body hurt, no matter the consequences should they be caught. It was clear to him that neither of them had something that was truly their own in this life - so, in this moment, why not take it?
His eyes watched hers after he said the words, and reached up to cup her cheek so that he could brush away the tear that threatened to fall with his thumb before letting that same hand float featherlight across her shoulder and to her back, almost as if to ever keep her from leaving him.
It was easy for him to say the words to her, but once they were reflected back to him and with such passion, it was almost overwhelming. He had been alone for so long, and he was a fool for thinking that this could be the answer - but by the gods, it was all he wanted. A life where he was not alone, but with her in his arms. He swallowed a moment and made to hide the flood of emotion by leaning in slightly to kiss her chest, lingering there a moment to compose himself as he breathed in the scent of her.
Zoser lifted his head as her hands guided his to untie the kalasaris, and his fingers made quick work of the ties - years of experience does such a thing. What few thoughts his mind managed pull together in those moments disappeared as she left a trail of kisses and professions of love across his body, accompanied by the tantilizing roll of her hips.
He could not bear it any longer.
A groan of discomfort merged with a moan of desire as he sat forward in a surge, his lips capturing hers in a deep, passionate embrace as his hands slid across her body, tangled in the fabric of the kalasaris as they did so. Freeing one hand briefly, he made quick work of pulling his own coverings aside, freeing himself in the narrow space between them. His breath shaky with anticipation he glanced down briefly, his hand stroking along her thigh before looking up to her again with lust-darkened eyes as he pulled them together.
Heat and friction heightened the moment they joined, almost maddening as he used the cage of his arms around her to pull her closer and deeper. Already, his body gave its protests to its own desires - he wanted to have her now, fiercely, and unforgiving - but that could not be. Not without giving pause.
As much as he wanted more, he set a slower, deeper pace - a lover's pace. Every movement was slow and languid, something that under other circumstances could become dull...but, with neither of them knowing if this would be their only time together like this, Zoser wanted to savor every moment.
With every open-mouthed kiss he placed on her skin as her hips rolled against his carried a promise, each time he said her name. Every ounce of his being was entirely under her spell, woven together into a knot that could never be undone, as far as he was concerned.
Logic would fight that when it came into the picture again, but it was not present at all in the moment.
Their joining was like a homecoming, a reprieve she never knew she needed. While Nia had bedded dozens of men over the years, there were none like this—a tenderness enveloping them both as he cradled her so gently against him. Her own touches were light, delicate, cautious of furthering his injuries while desperately holding herself back from returning his passion as voraciously as she wanted to. Feathered fingertips traced down his face as she memorized every detail, imprinting this moment on her mind to live over and over again.
What if this was their only time together? What if weeks of pent-up feeling and denied lust never found their outlet again? She wanted to rip the clothes from his body, to feel him tremble as she learned every inch of his flesh. She wanted to hear his voice cry her name to the stars as he shuddered his release, to feel him move within her until their legs gave out beneath them. More than anything, she wanted to ensure this night never ended, that the sun never rose, and that if she was forced to wake again, it would be in a world where neither of them need fear for their lives. Where they could both love freely and without restraint. Where the threat of danger didn’t hang over every moment of their time together.
The Pharaoh would be at war soon, and this, at least, should offer some relief. Without his constant presence, perhaps their stolen moments together could become more frequent, though… Eyes liked to watch. Lips liked to talk. Neithotep H’Sheifa knew the danger their very proximity held, but gods, just once in her life, could she follow her heart without fear? Could she not give in to that basest of emotion, that force which held such power over them all? Why must she be denied at every turn?
Each stroke within her banished these thoughts further and further from her mind, determined that she would enjoy what time they had together, whether it would happen again or not. She had to believe it would, or else this had all been for naught. What cruelty would see her find a love unlike any she’d ever known, only to snatch it from her as soon as it was uncovered? Surely, with everything she had been through in these past two months, fate would not see to cut her down so promptly again…
Their mouths met once more with a tenderness that made her ache, her fingers running through greying hair that felt like silk against her skin. A probing tongue flicked lightly against his lips as it sought entrance to weave and dance so passionately with his own. Roaming fingers moved cautiously along his chest, stroking and massaging along the flesh they explored. Hand stopping at his hip, she carefully readjusted their position so that he might slide deeper still.
A groaned sound of pleasure echoed through the emptiness of the archives as she sank down further, lips parting from his as her head tilted back. Bronzed skin shimmered in the flickering light of the brazier, shadows painting a nubile form with the ethereal beauty of a hope-filled twilight. If only this moment could be fixed in time… indulging in each other again and again as their voices joined in a sweet symphony of euphoria and the world crumbled to ash around them…
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Their joining was like a homecoming, a reprieve she never knew she needed. While Nia had bedded dozens of men over the years, there were none like this—a tenderness enveloping them both as he cradled her so gently against him. Her own touches were light, delicate, cautious of furthering his injuries while desperately holding herself back from returning his passion as voraciously as she wanted to. Feathered fingertips traced down his face as she memorized every detail, imprinting this moment on her mind to live over and over again.
What if this was their only time together? What if weeks of pent-up feeling and denied lust never found their outlet again? She wanted to rip the clothes from his body, to feel him tremble as she learned every inch of his flesh. She wanted to hear his voice cry her name to the stars as he shuddered his release, to feel him move within her until their legs gave out beneath them. More than anything, she wanted to ensure this night never ended, that the sun never rose, and that if she was forced to wake again, it would be in a world where neither of them need fear for their lives. Where they could both love freely and without restraint. Where the threat of danger didn’t hang over every moment of their time together.
The Pharaoh would be at war soon, and this, at least, should offer some relief. Without his constant presence, perhaps their stolen moments together could become more frequent, though… Eyes liked to watch. Lips liked to talk. Neithotep H’Sheifa knew the danger their very proximity held, but gods, just once in her life, could she follow her heart without fear? Could she not give in to that basest of emotion, that force which held such power over them all? Why must she be denied at every turn?
Each stroke within her banished these thoughts further and further from her mind, determined that she would enjoy what time they had together, whether it would happen again or not. She had to believe it would, or else this had all been for naught. What cruelty would see her find a love unlike any she’d ever known, only to snatch it from her as soon as it was uncovered? Surely, with everything she had been through in these past two months, fate would not see to cut her down so promptly again…
Their mouths met once more with a tenderness that made her ache, her fingers running through greying hair that felt like silk against her skin. A probing tongue flicked lightly against his lips as it sought entrance to weave and dance so passionately with his own. Roaming fingers moved cautiously along his chest, stroking and massaging along the flesh they explored. Hand stopping at his hip, she carefully readjusted their position so that he might slide deeper still.
A groaned sound of pleasure echoed through the emptiness of the archives as she sank down further, lips parting from his as her head tilted back. Bronzed skin shimmered in the flickering light of the brazier, shadows painting a nubile form with the ethereal beauty of a hope-filled twilight. If only this moment could be fixed in time… indulging in each other again and again as their voices joined in a sweet symphony of euphoria and the world crumbled to ash around them…
Their joining was like a homecoming, a reprieve she never knew she needed. While Nia had bedded dozens of men over the years, there were none like this—a tenderness enveloping them both as he cradled her so gently against him. Her own touches were light, delicate, cautious of furthering his injuries while desperately holding herself back from returning his passion as voraciously as she wanted to. Feathered fingertips traced down his face as she memorized every detail, imprinting this moment on her mind to live over and over again.
What if this was their only time together? What if weeks of pent-up feeling and denied lust never found their outlet again? She wanted to rip the clothes from his body, to feel him tremble as she learned every inch of his flesh. She wanted to hear his voice cry her name to the stars as he shuddered his release, to feel him move within her until their legs gave out beneath them. More than anything, she wanted to ensure this night never ended, that the sun never rose, and that if she was forced to wake again, it would be in a world where neither of them need fear for their lives. Where they could both love freely and without restraint. Where the threat of danger didn’t hang over every moment of their time together.
The Pharaoh would be at war soon, and this, at least, should offer some relief. Without his constant presence, perhaps their stolen moments together could become more frequent, though… Eyes liked to watch. Lips liked to talk. Neithotep H’Sheifa knew the danger their very proximity held, but gods, just once in her life, could she follow her heart without fear? Could she not give in to that basest of emotion, that force which held such power over them all? Why must she be denied at every turn?
Each stroke within her banished these thoughts further and further from her mind, determined that she would enjoy what time they had together, whether it would happen again or not. She had to believe it would, or else this had all been for naught. What cruelty would see her find a love unlike any she’d ever known, only to snatch it from her as soon as it was uncovered? Surely, with everything she had been through in these past two months, fate would not see to cut her down so promptly again…
Their mouths met once more with a tenderness that made her ache, her fingers running through greying hair that felt like silk against her skin. A probing tongue flicked lightly against his lips as it sought entrance to weave and dance so passionately with his own. Roaming fingers moved cautiously along his chest, stroking and massaging along the flesh they explored. Hand stopping at his hip, she carefully readjusted their position so that he might slide deeper still.
A groaned sound of pleasure echoed through the emptiness of the archives as she sank down further, lips parting from his as her head tilted back. Bronzed skin shimmered in the flickering light of the brazier, shadows painting a nubile form with the ethereal beauty of a hope-filled twilight. If only this moment could be fixed in time… indulging in each other again and again as their voices joined in a sweet symphony of euphoria and the world crumbled to ash around them…
With every fiber of his being, Zoser wished he did not hurt so bad. This moment was too important to him for his mind to be perpetually split apart on the line of pleasure and pain. Overall, the man felt as though he had lost his senses, when truly he was just lost in his senses, giving over to the overwhelm that hit each one.
Sandalwood and incense clung to her hair and exacerbated by the soft drip of sweat that allowed it to roll across her skin. A soft echo of the sound the contact between their skin striking a rhythm in time with the breaths and gasps that escaped them. The almost bitter taste of the oiled perfumes on her skin as his lips dragged along the lines of her chest and neck. Fingers wove a pattern into her hair and clung to her hips as if he would never let her go.
And then, there was the sight of her.
There were no words for the feeling that washed over him as he chanced a glance upward. Every feature of her face was vibrant and alive, completely enraptured in the moment. In the dim firelight, she seemed to glow and gleam like the gilded statuary in the blessed Temples across Egypt. Yet, no gold or jewels or anything could catch his eyes the way she did now.
His desire ached even more as she captured his lips again, her kiss wild yet slow and deliberate, as if savoring a meal to be devoured. Every touch was the dance of fire across his skin and he reciprocated, as if he could absorb their bodies into one.
His eyes opened slightly and their kiss broke for the briefest moment as she adjusted their position, and a carnal moan and gasp took him as he felt himself strike deeper within her. His body submitted to hers so quickly and easily, while making it's own demands and suggestions. Time and experience were on his side in this, and while Neithotep's beauty and skill in this realm were obvious, Zoser knew a thing or two as well.
A sudden clarity - a memory of a rather fun night some decades ago - hit him in that moment. With purpose, he readjusted his hold on her, one hand slipping to the lowest point of her back to hold her in place while the other slipped to that delicate and almost unnoticed curve between her navel and the point of their joining. Her body was held between the splayed hand on her back and his palm below her navel when he began to press a steady hold at that sacred spot, even so much as to feel that pressure himself as he slid within her. His core tightened in response and though a groan escaped him, he was far too focused on watching her reaction.
The friction increased with just that one move, and though the intensity might drive some women to squirm and pull away from the overwhelm of the sensation, Zoser held Nia steady there, demanding that she give in to the feelings. Insatiable now in this surreal state, his body's craving for pleasure over its own cries to stop at the uncomfortable shift of bone and sinew beneath his bruised skin, his breath came faster. He wanted - no, needed to take her to the edge, and in doing so, he raced himself closer to his own end as well, his breath growing ragged.
"Nia..."
It was a beg. It was a plead. It was a command. All three into one word, more meaning behind the tone than anything. He wanted the moment to reach it's pinnacle but also last forever. Their lives be damned, this moment was everything to him - he could be hers, she could be his. They could belong to each other.
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With every fiber of his being, Zoser wished he did not hurt so bad. This moment was too important to him for his mind to be perpetually split apart on the line of pleasure and pain. Overall, the man felt as though he had lost his senses, when truly he was just lost in his senses, giving over to the overwhelm that hit each one.
Sandalwood and incense clung to her hair and exacerbated by the soft drip of sweat that allowed it to roll across her skin. A soft echo of the sound the contact between their skin striking a rhythm in time with the breaths and gasps that escaped them. The almost bitter taste of the oiled perfumes on her skin as his lips dragged along the lines of her chest and neck. Fingers wove a pattern into her hair and clung to her hips as if he would never let her go.
And then, there was the sight of her.
There were no words for the feeling that washed over him as he chanced a glance upward. Every feature of her face was vibrant and alive, completely enraptured in the moment. In the dim firelight, she seemed to glow and gleam like the gilded statuary in the blessed Temples across Egypt. Yet, no gold or jewels or anything could catch his eyes the way she did now.
His desire ached even more as she captured his lips again, her kiss wild yet slow and deliberate, as if savoring a meal to be devoured. Every touch was the dance of fire across his skin and he reciprocated, as if he could absorb their bodies into one.
His eyes opened slightly and their kiss broke for the briefest moment as she adjusted their position, and a carnal moan and gasp took him as he felt himself strike deeper within her. His body submitted to hers so quickly and easily, while making it's own demands and suggestions. Time and experience were on his side in this, and while Neithotep's beauty and skill in this realm were obvious, Zoser knew a thing or two as well.
A sudden clarity - a memory of a rather fun night some decades ago - hit him in that moment. With purpose, he readjusted his hold on her, one hand slipping to the lowest point of her back to hold her in place while the other slipped to that delicate and almost unnoticed curve between her navel and the point of their joining. Her body was held between the splayed hand on her back and his palm below her navel when he began to press a steady hold at that sacred spot, even so much as to feel that pressure himself as he slid within her. His core tightened in response and though a groan escaped him, he was far too focused on watching her reaction.
The friction increased with just that one move, and though the intensity might drive some women to squirm and pull away from the overwhelm of the sensation, Zoser held Nia steady there, demanding that she give in to the feelings. Insatiable now in this surreal state, his body's craving for pleasure over its own cries to stop at the uncomfortable shift of bone and sinew beneath his bruised skin, his breath came faster. He wanted - no, needed to take her to the edge, and in doing so, he raced himself closer to his own end as well, his breath growing ragged.
"Nia..."
It was a beg. It was a plead. It was a command. All three into one word, more meaning behind the tone than anything. He wanted the moment to reach it's pinnacle but also last forever. Their lives be damned, this moment was everything to him - he could be hers, she could be his. They could belong to each other.
With every fiber of his being, Zoser wished he did not hurt so bad. This moment was too important to him for his mind to be perpetually split apart on the line of pleasure and pain. Overall, the man felt as though he had lost his senses, when truly he was just lost in his senses, giving over to the overwhelm that hit each one.
Sandalwood and incense clung to her hair and exacerbated by the soft drip of sweat that allowed it to roll across her skin. A soft echo of the sound the contact between their skin striking a rhythm in time with the breaths and gasps that escaped them. The almost bitter taste of the oiled perfumes on her skin as his lips dragged along the lines of her chest and neck. Fingers wove a pattern into her hair and clung to her hips as if he would never let her go.
And then, there was the sight of her.
There were no words for the feeling that washed over him as he chanced a glance upward. Every feature of her face was vibrant and alive, completely enraptured in the moment. In the dim firelight, she seemed to glow and gleam like the gilded statuary in the blessed Temples across Egypt. Yet, no gold or jewels or anything could catch his eyes the way she did now.
His desire ached even more as she captured his lips again, her kiss wild yet slow and deliberate, as if savoring a meal to be devoured. Every touch was the dance of fire across his skin and he reciprocated, as if he could absorb their bodies into one.
His eyes opened slightly and their kiss broke for the briefest moment as she adjusted their position, and a carnal moan and gasp took him as he felt himself strike deeper within her. His body submitted to hers so quickly and easily, while making it's own demands and suggestions. Time and experience were on his side in this, and while Neithotep's beauty and skill in this realm were obvious, Zoser knew a thing or two as well.
A sudden clarity - a memory of a rather fun night some decades ago - hit him in that moment. With purpose, he readjusted his hold on her, one hand slipping to the lowest point of her back to hold her in place while the other slipped to that delicate and almost unnoticed curve between her navel and the point of their joining. Her body was held between the splayed hand on her back and his palm below her navel when he began to press a steady hold at that sacred spot, even so much as to feel that pressure himself as he slid within her. His core tightened in response and though a groan escaped him, he was far too focused on watching her reaction.
The friction increased with just that one move, and though the intensity might drive some women to squirm and pull away from the overwhelm of the sensation, Zoser held Nia steady there, demanding that she give in to the feelings. Insatiable now in this surreal state, his body's craving for pleasure over its own cries to stop at the uncomfortable shift of bone and sinew beneath his bruised skin, his breath came faster. He wanted - no, needed to take her to the edge, and in doing so, he raced himself closer to his own end as well, his breath growing ragged.
"Nia..."
It was a beg. It was a plead. It was a command. All three into one word, more meaning behind the tone than anything. He wanted the moment to reach it's pinnacle but also last forever. Their lives be damned, this moment was everything to him - he could be hers, she could be his. They could belong to each other.
That subtle shift in their position saw the young woman’s eyes rolling back, a stuttering cry parting her lips as her face tilted toward the ceiling. Where Zoser had picked up that particular trick, she did not know, but she wanted to thank whoever taught him—the sensations of moments ago increasing threefold. A growing pressure built in the pit of her belly, muscles clenching of their own volition as he continued to move within her. It was almost painful, the intensity of it, but it was a pain she would savor, one she would seek again and again, especially coming from the man who held her so insistently in his grasp.
A shuddering breath and her eyes were open again, looking down into the face that watched her so ardently. The sound of her name on his lips sent a shiver down her spine, the tone and the heat in his eyes demanding from her all that she would give. And for the first time in weeks, she gave all she could without restraint.
Three more strokes within her, and she was trembling atop him, velvet walls tightening as her blissful cry echoed through the empty archives. Fingers tangling in his hair, she pulled his face back to hers and captured his lips in a kiss that put all those that came before it to shame. It was as if a column of fire seared her from the inside out, her climax taking her with such force that she was helpless to do aught but cling to his shoulders and moan her ecstasy in his ear. Gods knew, Nia had found her pleasure in many others, in many ways, but this…
This would be a night she remembered for the rest of her life.
As her peak dwindled and her muscles loosened, Nia leaned back to meet his gaze, her fingers lightly tracing down his stubbled cheek. Adoration softened her face, dark eyes shining as they caught his. There was gratitude in that look, a silent thanks for the reclaiming of her own body, of her own pleasure. The pharaoh always took what he wanted without regard, but Zoser…
Oh gods, but Zoser.
Kissing him again, her body started moving once more, sluggish at first, but quickly gaining momentum as she wordlessly encouraged him to his own end. “I love you,” was her poignant whisper, her lips parting from his only long enough to utter the words. Hands tenderly tracing unbruised flesh, her mouth followed the path they created, stopping only to press her face to his shoulder—her fingers curling back in his hip as they pushed him to find his release.
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That subtle shift in their position saw the young woman’s eyes rolling back, a stuttering cry parting her lips as her face tilted toward the ceiling. Where Zoser had picked up that particular trick, she did not know, but she wanted to thank whoever taught him—the sensations of moments ago increasing threefold. A growing pressure built in the pit of her belly, muscles clenching of their own volition as he continued to move within her. It was almost painful, the intensity of it, but it was a pain she would savor, one she would seek again and again, especially coming from the man who held her so insistently in his grasp.
A shuddering breath and her eyes were open again, looking down into the face that watched her so ardently. The sound of her name on his lips sent a shiver down her spine, the tone and the heat in his eyes demanding from her all that she would give. And for the first time in weeks, she gave all she could without restraint.
Three more strokes within her, and she was trembling atop him, velvet walls tightening as her blissful cry echoed through the empty archives. Fingers tangling in his hair, she pulled his face back to hers and captured his lips in a kiss that put all those that came before it to shame. It was as if a column of fire seared her from the inside out, her climax taking her with such force that she was helpless to do aught but cling to his shoulders and moan her ecstasy in his ear. Gods knew, Nia had found her pleasure in many others, in many ways, but this…
This would be a night she remembered for the rest of her life.
As her peak dwindled and her muscles loosened, Nia leaned back to meet his gaze, her fingers lightly tracing down his stubbled cheek. Adoration softened her face, dark eyes shining as they caught his. There was gratitude in that look, a silent thanks for the reclaiming of her own body, of her own pleasure. The pharaoh always took what he wanted without regard, but Zoser…
Oh gods, but Zoser.
Kissing him again, her body started moving once more, sluggish at first, but quickly gaining momentum as she wordlessly encouraged him to his own end. “I love you,” was her poignant whisper, her lips parting from his only long enough to utter the words. Hands tenderly tracing unbruised flesh, her mouth followed the path they created, stopping only to press her face to his shoulder—her fingers curling back in his hip as they pushed him to find his release.
That subtle shift in their position saw the young woman’s eyes rolling back, a stuttering cry parting her lips as her face tilted toward the ceiling. Where Zoser had picked up that particular trick, she did not know, but she wanted to thank whoever taught him—the sensations of moments ago increasing threefold. A growing pressure built in the pit of her belly, muscles clenching of their own volition as he continued to move within her. It was almost painful, the intensity of it, but it was a pain she would savor, one she would seek again and again, especially coming from the man who held her so insistently in his grasp.
A shuddering breath and her eyes were open again, looking down into the face that watched her so ardently. The sound of her name on his lips sent a shiver down her spine, the tone and the heat in his eyes demanding from her all that she would give. And for the first time in weeks, she gave all she could without restraint.
Three more strokes within her, and she was trembling atop him, velvet walls tightening as her blissful cry echoed through the empty archives. Fingers tangling in his hair, she pulled his face back to hers and captured his lips in a kiss that put all those that came before it to shame. It was as if a column of fire seared her from the inside out, her climax taking her with such force that she was helpless to do aught but cling to his shoulders and moan her ecstasy in his ear. Gods knew, Nia had found her pleasure in many others, in many ways, but this…
This would be a night she remembered for the rest of her life.
As her peak dwindled and her muscles loosened, Nia leaned back to meet his gaze, her fingers lightly tracing down his stubbled cheek. Adoration softened her face, dark eyes shining as they caught his. There was gratitude in that look, a silent thanks for the reclaiming of her own body, of her own pleasure. The pharaoh always took what he wanted without regard, but Zoser…
Oh gods, but Zoser.
Kissing him again, her body started moving once more, sluggish at first, but quickly gaining momentum as she wordlessly encouraged him to his own end. “I love you,” was her poignant whisper, her lips parting from his only long enough to utter the words. Hands tenderly tracing unbruised flesh, her mouth followed the path they created, stopping only to press her face to his shoulder—her fingers curling back in his hip as they pushed him to find his release.