Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.
*****
Part Two as promised!
The museum came into view and Anabeth was more than just a little impressed. A great building of terracotta-coloured stone stood tall in front of a garden filled with exotic flowers. The detail was minimal in comparison to the great buildings in England and yet so similar, with statues of women framing the large entry. The building couldn't have been more than ten years old, but it was a beauty, nonetheless.
Peter offered Anabeth his hand as she stepped out of the carriage, once they had pulled up to the front of the door, but barely touched her palm. There was a small frown on his face as though touching her troubled him. Beth tried not to read too much into it.
The inside of the building was as lovely as the outside. Cool, white marble spanned the length and breadth of the first great room, flanked by sand-coloured pillars. To Anabeth's disappointment the artefacts on display were sparse and uninspiring. This museum needed an exhibit worthy of its stature.
"Miss Brightbury?" A heavy accent greeted them from a discrete door on the left of the room. The door blended so well with the sand-coloured stone that it took a moment for Anabeth to find the man.
"Yes," Beth smiled warmly. The man was clearly a native, though he was dressed as though to embody the British.
A shame,
she thought.
The native clothes here look so much cooler than a three-piece suit.
"I am Karim," he smiled back. "We are ready to begin the meeting, if you'll follow me."
Anabeth moved to the door, Peter and Mr Banks following closely behind her.
"Karim is a friendly man," Peter whispered behind her. "Akhenaten's right-hand man if you will. He is the only one who he really speaks with."
"Why does a descendant need a right-hand man?" Anabeth questioned as they climbed a discreet set of stairs.
"The power they wield seems quite great," Mr Banks replied. "It is as though among the natives Akhenaten is a sort of aristocrat. A duke among their personal hierarchy."
"And what is Akhenaten's full name? I cannot go in and address him as that," Anabeth whispered to Peter.
"No one knows. He hasn't yet done formal introductions with any British men. He refuses to speak to them directly, and his men simply refer to him as Akhenaten."
Beth felt a sense of tension over the matter. Of course, the English men would be offended by any native in a colony considering themselves in a higher position than a Brit.
Karim led them through a hallway with large wooden doors on either side. It was long and narrow with a huge pained window at the end, which somehow managed to light the full corridor. The doors on the right stopped halfway down, besides one final door which Karim opened for them.
Anabeth could feel her stomach flipping around itself. She had never conducted a meeting of such great importance. So much was resting on her shoulders she wondered what would happen if she made a mistake. One tiny mistake could ruin everything for her.
The room inside was panelled with a rich red-brown wood on the floor and walls. A great table sat in the centre with chairs placed all around. Surrounding the table were men in all manners of dress, though it was clear that the British men were not conversing with the Egyptians.
"Miss Anabeth Brightbury, and company," Karim announced to the room as though they were entering a 19
th
century ball. She could feel Peter bristle beside her as though by not announcing his name he was any less important.
The crowd turned to look and Anabeth scanned the room, stopping on one particular face.
Her first thought was why her legs hadn't given up. Should she not have fainted? Was that not the only appropriate response?
Staring at her was a man identical to Sekhemkhet's ghost. A face so ingrained in her memory that she would have known it anywhere. And yet it was impossible.
But everything, down to his dark golden skin and long, dark hair was the same. And the look in his eyes - a starving man staring at a banquet that had been laid out just for him, waiting for someone to tell him
yes, you can have it now
.
It was him and yet it could not be him.
"Shall we take our places then?" Karim asked. No introductions. No shaking of hands, just straight to business.
Anabeth found her place at the centre of the left side of the table. At the top sat Sekhemkhet -
no,
Anabeth reminded herself,
Akhenaten. His name is Akhenaten, and I mustn't forget that
. Across from her was Karim and beside her was Peter. Mr Banks took a seat on a bench at the side of the room, removed from the discussion.
"Miss Brightbury," Akhenaten finally acknowledged her. "I hope you have had a pleasant journey."
His smile was beatific.
Just like I remember
, she thought before she could stop herself. But there was something about his smile that was too like Sekhemkhet's so she could not ignore it. A sense of challenge - a quirk that made her think they were sharing an inside joke.
"It was quite pleasant, thank you. I am very happy to be back in such a beautiful country. I have missed it these past two months."
"Egypt has missed you too," he replied, unheard by the rest of the group as they finished settling into their seats.
"The matter at hand," Karim began, "is the ownership and the distribution of the artefacts found in the tomb close to the Pyramid of Djoser. Founded by Anabeth Brightbury, but the legal property of Akhenaten." Peter sat straighter, ready to intervene at the mention of Anabeth's involvement, however Karim continued. "Akhenaten would like to propose that the tomb and it's contents remain here in Egypt, under the watch of the natives."
There was a silence in the room - the kind that made Anabeth stay totally still. She knew that this kind of tense silence could be shattered by the slightest movement, bringing pandemonium. She was right.
Akhenaten shifted in his chair, his elbow resting on the table with his hand on his chin. His fingers rested on his lips, just enough to cover the small smile playing there. The smile that had Anabeth's stomach flipping around.
Who is he?
"I
beg
your pardon?" One British man began, though he was cut off by several others. It was like how her father had described the scenes at parliamentary debates before order could be called. '
They're like chimpanzees in a zoo,'
he had told them animatedly over dinner one night. '
The slightest thing sets them off and they all stand up, jeering, and throwing things. The noises they make!
'
The Egyptian men looked amused, though not in a good way. They were laughing at the Englishmen, rather than with them. It embarrassed Anabeth. But then she caught Akhenaten looking at her. Just for a second, before he winked, and she had to look away. Beth could feel her cheeks grow warm and had to supress a smile. Even if he wasn't the ghost, he was incredibly handsome and cared enough about her opinion that he asked for her to travel here.
"Gentlemen that's quite enough," Anabeth said gently. To her surprise the men stopped speaking and looked at her. Many of them looked surprised that she'd dare to involved herself. "Mr Carter," Beth turned to him. "If you will."
"Of course, Miss Brightbury, thank you." Peter turned to Akhenaten, smiling pleasantly, though his face was still red from the shouting. "Mr Brightbury, the
founder
of the tomb, would-" Peter began, stressing the claim of Beth's father.
"I must stop you there, Mr Carter," Akhenaten interrupted. "Miss Brightbury here found the tomb. You may dispute this point all you like, but I do know the truth. You may also continue to refer to her father as the founder, however it will not change the facts. I will still be asking Miss Brightbury her own opinions."
Beth's mouth popped open of its own accord. Peter didn't even look angry, he just seemed dumbfounded. As though he couldn't quite believe that any sane man would want the opinion of a young woman over that of an educated, well-established male.
"Of course," Peter cleared his throat and took a sip of water. "Well, nevertheless, Mr Brightbury proposes that in the case that your descendance can be proven-"
Akhenaten began to interrupt again and Anabeth couldn't blame him. To question his claims in such an outright manner, when the majority of the men in this room clearly believed him, went further than just bad manners. It was a challenge of dominance. The Colonist versus the Native.
"Mr Carter, my family has been recognised as descendants for generations." Akhenaten's voice took on an edge. The more he spoke, the more powerful he sounded. Anabeth could feel it deep in her stomach. "Our lineage has been documented for thousands of years. We have simply faded into insignificance due to other ruling powers. If you care to question this further, I shall personally escort you to the national records buildings. At your leisure of course." Anabeth still could not look at the man. Everything about him was seducing her. She knew him,
but how could she?
"Be that as it may, the tomb was found by the British," Peter continued, growing agitated. He was a slight man in comparison to Akhenaten. His masculinity rode on his ability with words. "Mr Brightbury proposes that the pieces be exhibited here for a period of twelve months before being transferred to the British Museum for twenty-four months and from there to the highest bidder in Europe for a period of time, to be decided by yourself, and then they are yours to house in Egypt." Peter smirked as though Akhenaten should be amazed by the generosity of Anabeth's father.
Beth rolled her eyes, realising too late that Akhenaten was watching her.
"And what do you think, Henutsen?" Akhenaten asked in Arabic. Beth could understand him, and yet she had never studied the language.
How else would I be able to understand him?
A small voice questioned in her head, but she supressed it.
Mr Banks tilted his head subtly at the other side of the table. Beth had forgotten that he could speak the language. She had to be careful here.
"I'm sorry?" She asked, as though she hadn't understood him perfectly.
"What do you think should happen to the artefacts?" Akhenaten repeated in English this time.
"Why she agrees with her father!" Peter almost exploded from his seat.
This is it,
Anabeth thought.
