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alottanothing · 4 years

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Left to Ruin: Chapter Twenty-Three

Summary: Ahkmenrah wakes to find chaos befallen his great city.

Previous Chapters

Word Count: 3212

Warnings: A N G S T

Tag List: @xmxisxforxmaybe, @r-ahh-mi, @hah0106, @rami-malek-trash, @diasimar, @sherlollydramoine, @flipper-kisses, @ivy-miranda-2390, @txmel, @sunkissedmikky, @concentratedsassandcandy, @edteche2

(Let me know if I missed you, or if you would like to be added to the tag list)

A/N: I don’t have much to say this week, just thank you for giving the previous chapter love, and I hope you can forgive me for this chapter, and the next. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Again, as a disclaimer, I am not an ancient Egyptian expert and google only knows so much. So yeah, I took so historical liberties while writing this to make my life easier, but tried to keep it as “authentic” as possible

The walk back to the palace after a night along the shores of the Nile felt like a shorter journey than the same path they strode only hours before. Nevertheless, Ahkmenrah was wholly at peace, enveloped in the warmth that true love kindled. Hope swelled in his breast too, a dull ember of blissful bright light, stoked to a flame by the news of his unborn child. The thought and the threats of war were far out of his mind, lost in the tranquility Nouke showed him on the beach of the mighty river. And the pharaoh hoped, beyond all reason, that terrible dread would stay lost.

When their feet led them home, the king and queen took their time placing the stones back into their respective places—a puzzle that had become second nature after dozens of trips—and they left a single brick askew with the promise of another trip beyond their cage. They stood for a long moment, marveling at the majesty of their garden under Khonsu’s glow. The picturesque sight pulsed with a blissful aura, the familiar fragrances and sounds forever adhered to their happiest memories. With a content sigh, Nouke wrapped around Ahk’s strong arm, their fingers intertwined as she rested her head against his shoulder with a soft smile on her features.

Ahkmenrah’s expression was a mirror of hers, the muscles of his face upturned with an air of whimsy as he recalled visions of he and Nouke running and laughing amid the lush green. He watched as his younger self chased his best friend in loops around the fountain before she playfully shoved him into the crystal clear waters, laughing. All too quickly those phantoms of his past faded to a far superior scene. This time he envisioned his children running and playing the same games, laughing and screaming gleefully while he and his beautiful queen lounged nearby, watching merrily.

Ahkmenrah would always fight for that future; whatever it took.

When those illusions faded too, they made their way through the quiet halls, stopping just shy of their bed-chamber doors. Ahk turned and met his guardian with a smile.

“Have I ever thanked you for never telling anyone about our secret passage?”

A kindhearted smile ghosted over Kamuzu’s lips, “There’s no need, my King.”

Ahk’s smile grew as he thought of every venture he’d ever taken through that crumbled wall; Kamuzu was always there, and never had he tried to keep him in his royal cage or told a soul where he had gone. It made the pharaoh profoundly glad.

“Rest well, my friend.”

“And you, my king.” Kamuzu bowed his head to each of them. “My queen.”

“Goodnight, Kamuzu,” Nouke said with a sweet smile.

Ahkmenrah watched his Medjay protector go, the tendrils of his love-filled heart reaching out to the man who had kept him safe his entire life.

It wasn’t until Nouke gave his fingers a squeeze and his arm a gentle tug that he turned his attention back to her as she coaxed him to follow. The glow of the torches was both inviting and whimsical as he watched the flickering luminescence dance across his wife’s figure, making her seem even more ethereal than he already thought her to be. A yawn broke his concentration; the dull light soothing enough to also remind him of the weight of his day; sleep was a pleasure he longed to partake in.

Nouke surrendered his hand as she politely excused the maidservants and the guards with a wave, and the pharaoh thanked them for their service as they left. When the heavy thud of the doors falling shut echoed in the vast room, Ahkmenrah turned his sights to where his wife stood near their son’s cradle. The way she swayed gently—like reeds in the desert breeze—as she hummed a lullaby, was spellbinding to behold. She smiled down at the sleeping boy, her open palm caressing the tiny swell of her belly. Ahk’s heart fluttered, and he sighed as he fixated the picture in his memory.

Ahkmenrah’s bare feet barely made a sound as they crossed the room to wind himself around Nouke’s strong frame, pressing against her back, his chin resting on her shoulder.

“I hope we have a girl,” Ahk mused, dreamily fanning his palm over the slight bump of his wife’s abdomen. “A little princess as beautiful as her mother.”

Nouke hummed agreeably, and he could hear her soft smile.

“Whichever the gods see fit to give us will be a blessing.” She kept her hand over his and added, “Prince or princess.”

“You are right, of course.” Ahk laid a delicate kiss to the exposed skin of her shoulder, over a mark he’d suckled into formation as they made love on the banks of the Nile hours before. “But a king can hope.”

Nouke spun lithely in his arms and combed her fingers through his hair as her arms circled his neck. “Yes...a king can hope. But now the king must rest. Dawn will come early, and there is much to do.”

She kissed him before his lips could twist into a frown with the unpleasant reminder of duty, but she deftly chased it away. Nouke bled into all of his senses as he pulled her close: the texture of her lips and the nectary taste that coupled with every sweep against his. Every soft swell and curve of her body pressing against him as the floral scent of her perfume filled his lungs. Its sweetness was dull under the unique musk of sand and reeds: a fragrant remnant of their excursion on the shore.

Nouke was savoring him too; the pull of her mouth was a slow and sensuous expression of worship that made Ahk crave more than sleep.

When their kiss parted, his queen stayed close, circling the tip of his nose with hers before giving him a chaste peck, then led him to bed. Nouke curled against his side, and sleep found them both quickly.

The peaceful void of dreamless slumber had been elusive for the pharaoh of late, despite the joy in his life. His mind was overrun with concern and the well-being of those he loved, even without the threat of war. Some nights he would pace and ponder until his head hurt, or until Nouke coaxed him back to bed. She would lay his head against her chest, her fingers gently sweeping through his hair as she lulled his frazzled mind into submission—allowing sleep to, at last, claim him. Other nights he just laid with his eyes locked on the ceiling until the night sky was swallowed by the sun.

He hated those nights the most.

However, that night, the thoughts in his head were quiet and hopeful despite the threat they faced. For hours, or perhaps only minutes, the pharaoh found sleep restful nestled with the woman he loved until a strange commotion slowly pulled him from that dreamless void.

Ahkmenrah tired to ignore the somehow distant, but close, ruckus; clinging to sleep with a mighty grip. But when the sound of a shout mixed with the sound of the clamor, Ahk’s eyes fluttered open. It only took a moment for them to adjust to the darkness, his focus getting lost for a second in the peaceful sight of Nouke sleeping next to him.

The pharaoh smiled and carefully pulled free, standing to stretch his limbs as a yawn overtook his features. With a few lazy strides, he wandered to his son’s bedside; the upward curl of his lips growing as he looked at the sleeping boy.

There was where he lingered, watching Sekmen sleep—the strange commotion momentarily forgot—as he let his mind think more on the future awaiting him: evenings in his beloved West Garden with two children to play with. The notion filled his stomach with eager butterflies, his smile growing impossibly wider until that peculiar clamor hindered it.

All at once, the flitting butterflies in his belly lost their whimsy, quickly metamorphosing into sick, twisting knots. Smoke was drifting into the chamber from the open balcony much too thick to be from simple torchlight. Frightened screams registered next, rendering the pharaoh frozen as he turned his ear to listen.

More cries haunted the air, the sounds making his heart hammer and his skin coat with nervous sweat. Fear and curiosity coupled to urge him to investigate the billowing smoke and the refrain of laments as his breaths slowed.

Ahk could smell the fire—see the floating pieces of ash in the air—he could hear clearly the screams as he stepped onto his balcony. The pharaoh leaned over the rail, fear a curiosity writhing in his gut, and the devastation he found made his eyes grow impossibly wide, his mouth dry and his heart heavy with dread. Before he could take in the horror below, he hastily stumbled out of range, narrowly missing the strike of an arrow as if flew past his face. He gasped as he careened backward, falling to the ground, the pain of the impact dull as panic consumed his every sense.

Quickly, the pharaoh staggered back to his feet and once more took to the wall of the railing, peering at the mayhem below.

And suddenly, Ahkmenrah felt ill.

Men were scaling the palace walls, setting alight anything that would burn: wood, idols, plants, people. The metallic clang of weapon on weapon split the air like thunder between horrified screams. Soldiers, guards, and Medjay laid dead or dying while their comrades fought the slew of invaders trickling over the high walls.

It was a sight Ahkmenrah never dreamed of seeing, and never would he forget it. Fear spread through him, ripping like icy claws. Kahmunrah had been right; it was too late to negotiate. War had come to them, and Egypt was not prepared.

A chill shook the pharaoh as he fought to quell the flooding of tears in his eyes; every one of his senses working at an impossible pace to comprehend the chaos. He needed to be strong, and to stay calm; if he allowed fear to settle too deep, he would surely seal his fate.

With a deep inhale Ahk attempted to push through the pandemonium of his emotions only to choke on the tainted air. He coughed and gasped and tried again, filling his lungs swiftly—like a man drowning and wheezed once more.

With the crook of his elbow to shield his breaths from the ash and smoke, Ahkmenrah slowly backed away, unable to tear his sight from the siege of his grand palace until it became too much. In an instant, his fumbling feet spun and broke into a run, his heart pounding in his throat, the mist in his eyes a cumulation of fear and the burning sting of the smoke-filled air.

His voice was raspy when he woke his wife as softly as he could, not wanting to cause her any more panic than he could spare.

“Nouke.” Ahk shook her shoulder gently, but with enough force to pull her from sleeps grasp.

She threw him a look of irritated confusion, her heavy eyelids blinking slow.

“Get Sekmen,” the pharaoh ordered lightly. “We must find safety...now.”

Nouke shook her head slowly, still trying to fight off slumber’s laden trance, “Wha—”

A scream echoed through the chamber from outside, and the queen sat up straight, eyes blown wide.

“What’s going on?” she asked, fear in her tone as she threw on the nearest article of clothing she could find.

Ahkmenrah did the same and chanced another glimpse from the balcony to gauge the severity of their situation—a foolish hope of finding peace, gone. Mere minutes had passed, and everything was worse. Men poured over the walls like water from a pitcher, their weapons glowing a fiendish orange as the surrounding flames reflected from the sharpened surface. Each of them was poised and ready to strike, militant men who knew war and had mastered it, unlike the pharaoh they sought to destroy.

“How could it have come to this?” Ahk said to himself in quiet disbelief as he watched his home fall to ruin.

“What’s happening?” Nouke asked again from inside their chamber.

“We are being ambushed,” he finally told her, unsure of how to break the news without panic twisting onto her face.

Ahkmenrah crossed the room with purpose and retrieved the mounted khopesh on the wall nearest the door.

For years the weapon served as no more than a decoration—a gift given to him by his father for completing his lessons in the training yards all those years age—that until then, the pharaoh had forgotten about.

The moment it’s cumbersome weight was in his grasp, his memory flooded with visions of the summer his father taught him how to swing a blade. Even as a boy he’d never come close to mastering it—he should have tried harder.

Those few hours in the training yard, sparring with boys his own age, were lessons Ahkmenrah had allowed himself to forget. Those boys were always better than him, and it was those boys who became his soldiers, soldiers who were fighting and dying to protect a man who could not protect them.

Ahk’s stomach churned at the thought; they were fighting and dying—skilled men—what chance had he?

All at once, the pharaoh was too weak to wield his blade properly. Every ounce of strength he had he used to watch Nouke gingerly gather their son into her arms as he stood frozen. When her amber eyes locked with his, fear was hidden under her tightly bound composure. But Ahk could feel it.

“What do we do?” she asked, her voice impossibly calm.

“We need to find my brother.” Ahk knew she wouldn’t want to go to Kah, but the pharaoh could think of no better idea. Kahmunrah knew how to stay alive. “He will know what is best to do, and where to go.”

Nouke swallowed her prejudice and nodded, letting all her trust fall on his shoulders. “Okay.”

Ahkmenrah swallowed twice to fight the lump forming in his throat, suddenly more afraid than ever—he could not allow himself to let her down.

“Maybe they aren’t in the palace yet,” Nouke said, glancing towards the door.

Ahk turned his ear to listen; chaos rang, but it was impossible to discern where the clamor came from. Every scream that colored the air with shadow made the tension more palpable, forging a dreadfully crushing atmosphere. It stuck to the sweat covering Ahkmenrah’s skin; every bead at his temple feeling a thousand pounds.

When Sekmenrah began to fuss, the pharaoh wondered if his son could sense it too. His face was crinkled in fright, his tiny whimpers shaking his entire form as he clunk to his mother helplessly. The sight was like a knife in the pharaoh’s heart.

“Hush, my little prince,” Nouke murmured gently, rocking the boy to soothe him.

The sound of his mother’s voice and lulling gestures seemed to settle him until a loud bang hammered against the chamber door, causing them all to jump.

Instinctively, Nouke’s free hand gripped tightly at her husband’s bicep as she moved closer. “Ahk...” her voice was pleading and scared.

“Behind me,” he urged, quickly.

Another knock pierced the air, and Ahkmenrah stood with his shoulders squared, feet firmly planted, shielding his family as best he knew how. Adrenaline was beginning to eat up his fear allowing his focus to hone. Silently he prayed to any of the gods still listening to send him the strength to protect those he loved. Ahkmenrah could not lose them, he simply could not.

One more loud bang echoed, rattling his bones and some of his fear rekindled when the doors burst open like the sound of an explosion.

Medjay flooded into the pharaoh’s bed-chamber, their eyes lit with fire, blood on their weapons. Several barricaded the doors with only their joined strength, pushing against the entry with all their might.

Kamuzu was at their lead, shouting orders, his weapon stained red. The king was never more happy to see his dutiful protector. Kamuzu’s muscled arm was wrapped protectively around a young woman who was sobbing loud enough to muffle the clamor.

“Set?” Ahk squinted through the haze.

“Ahkmen!”

Setshepsut tore out of the Medjay’s grip and sprinted into his arms and he secured his footing so as not to fall as she collided against him. The abrupt onslaught of relief of knowing his sister was still alive crashed against the pharaoh with enough force he almost tumbled backward anyway.

“Set!” His own tone matched hers: glad but overrun with sorrow.

Setshepsut clung to him like a frightened child to her mother, sobbing into his chest as he held her. Nouke hugged around her too, as best she could, keeping her hand on Ahk’s arm.

A question pulled at Ahkmenrah’s brows, one that Kamuzu answered before the pharaoh even truly knew what it was he wanted to ask.

“Her husband was found dead at his post. Not two minutes later, this started.”

“Satauhotep?” Ahk pulled his sister a little snugger as he fought back the lump in his throat. “He’s dead?”

Kamuzu nodded.

The adrenaline vanished and suddenly, Ahk could feel his grasp on everything slipping. Each of his senses felt cold and emptied, as though his spirit was falling into a nightmarish black void. Nouke and Set clinging to him were the only tethers that held him within his crumbling reality.

He held all the power in the empire, and yet, the pharaoh had never felt more powerless.

“How did the Nehesyw and their allies get into the city?” Ahk asked, turning his gaze to Kamuzu.

His guardian pursed his lips as a strange somberness settled over his features that made Ahkmenrah’s stomach feel sick.

“No, my king. This is not the Nehesyw.”

“Who?” Ahk asked, his voice low.

Kamuzu hesitated, eyes drifting to the floor as he gathered his words, then he looked back to the pharaoh as though he was trying to save him from the truth by stalling.

“Kamuzu...” Ahkmenrah pleaded. “Who?”

The king’s Medjay protector sighed and shook his head apologetically. “It is your brother’s men who have lain siege to the palace.”

That bottomless black void returned, seeking to devour him, but this time, fire surged through Ahk’s blood, combating the lingering dread.

“Kahmunrah is behind this?” His voice was scarily calm despite the anger writhing inside of him.

Kamuzu nodded, “The men he collected—they fight for him; against your guard, against your Medjay.”

“And my soldiers?”

“Some fight for you, others, against you,” Kamuzu confessed. “Tahut-Mut leads his garrison against you.”

Of course, Ahk thought. How could I not have seen that?

The siege Ahkmenrah had caught Kah and Tahut discussing was underway, and Ahk would never forgive himself for missing that clue.

More unsettling, however, was the blatant fear smoldering in Kamuzu’s eyes. In twenty-five years, Ahkmenrah had never seen a look of such distress on his guardian's face. And when Kamuzu finally spoke, his voice was gruff and soft—mournfully broken—the timbre of a man who was completely blindsided.

“You are in danger, my king.”

And Ahkmenrah knew then, the odds were against them.

#Ahkmenrah #Ahkmenrah x Original Character #Ahkmenrah Fanfiction #Night at the Museum #NATM #NATM Fanfiction #Left to Ruin #Rami Malek Character #Rami Malek Character Fanfiction #Rami Malek Fanfiction #Rami Malek

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clansayeed · 4 years

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Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ― Chapter 12: The Return

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ⥽

While struggling with nightmares of lives she’s never lived, a shadow from the past looming over her city, and the proposed idea that her life may just be a little bit too weird to handle alone, Nadya makes sure to tell herself that everything is perfect just the way it is. If only. When the self-proclaimed King of Vampires (and Maker of her sometimes-girlfriend and always-boss, can’t forget that little tidbit) Gaius Augustine returns intent on claiming Manhattan as the throne that was promised, she and her friends find themselves forced into the task of saving the world. But with millennia-old vampires and an Order of hunters on their heels as well as allies hiding catastrophic secrets at their backs… it won’t be an easy task. Too bad destiny didn’t exactly ask for her input.

Bound by Destiny II and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Destiny II tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

The gang returns to New York with a well-earned victory under their belts. But that means Nadya has to face Kamilah, and she isn't quite sure she knows how to feel just yet.

[READ IT ON AO3]

Nadya leans on the rail with a wistful sigh. Takes a moment and just… lets herself enjoy the peace of being at peace. No memories haunting her behind her eyelids, no immediate danger… at least none she can see right in front of her.

No, the only thing in front of her is New Orleans. The French Quarter spread out for blocks around her in vibrant colors going pale against the purpling sky. It’ll be dawn soon.

Did she sigh already? Well… no harm in another one.

Taylor’s learned his lesson in sneaking up on her. Why else would he knock on the door leading up to the roof instead of taking advantage of one final attempt to startle her silly?

He clicks his tongue with a wry look. “Careful now, that sigh right there, that’s trouble. Means you’re falling in love with this place and you won’t ever wanna leave.”

Nadya can’t help it that she laughs.

“Are you trying to sound like Garrus?” It sounds like something the fae would say, actually.

“No, and frankly you don’t want to hear my Garrus impersonation,” he hesitates; waits for Nadya’s little go-ahead of a nod before joining her overlooking the city as it begins to put itself to sleep, “it’s not very good. My Ivy on the other hand…”

Their laughter is soft and polite. They wouldn’t dare jostle the world below.

“I mean, when I went off to college I had dreams of road trips on spring break, summers spent with one program or another. New Orleans was always on my list.”

“And did she live up to the hype?”

Now how exactly is Nadya supposed to answer that honestly? “Well college-aged me probably wouldn’t have been hanging around the Graveyard Shift, that’s all I’ll say.”

“Nadya, babe, you have got to stop being a hard mood,” Taylor places a hand to his chest, “my little empath heart just can’t take much more of it.”

She shoves him (gently) and their laugh is a little less awkward the second time around. Probably because he is, indeed, an empath. And he gets exactly what she’s feeling right now.

Longing — exhaustion — trepidation — to name a few.

He nudges her shoulder with his own. “You’ll have to come back when everything’s fixed on your end; see the city for real, you know? Not just all the bad things.”

Not like she goes searching for the bad things, thanks. They just kind of… happen dangerously close in her proximity. “I’d like that. Lil’ too, for sure.”

“Oh, for sure. Though I have a feeling her and Ivy together might be a bit more trouble than Nik’ll want to deal with.”

And on that Nadya can most certainly agree. Not that she does so with words. Strangely she doesn’t feel much like talking right now. Not-so-strangely, Taylor doesn’t either. So they lean in mutual silence and watch the streets below. People going through the motions; living their lives.

Lives far less strange than theirs.

The blue of the dawn is just starting to bleed orange when he finally speaks again.

“You’re not used to winning the day, are you?” She isn’t surprised in the least to look and see that strange iridescence back in his irises.

“I don’t have enough coffee in me to answer a question like that,” which — that’s her answer; but Taylor definitely isn’t taking it, “I mean… back when all this stuff started; we won then, I think. Adrian was exonerated and Jax joined the Council and Vega wasn’t trying to kill me anymore —”

Taylor holds up a finger. “Wait — like the missing Senator, that Vega?”

“You knew him?”

“Uh, Vee and our friend Kristin lived up there together. Wait a second—he was a vam— no… that’s not the point. Sorry, please continue.”

God, is that how I look to other people, Nadya wonders; but it’s humbling to see somehow.

“Anyway… I thought everything turned out for the better, and for a while it was better. But now that I think about it…” Gaius, Jameson, the Trinity; all of them lurking just on the other side of the two-way glass. Waiting for the time to strike and take her happiness away; to pluck memories from her she never asked for all in pursuit of some epic fantasy-level world conquering.

If the fight wasn’t over, did that still count as a victory?

“And you’re left wondering if this is the same deal. If you’ve really won, or if there’s more stuff—worse stuff—just out of sight.” Taylor finishes for her. Still a little weird and possibly more akin to mind-reading than the half-fae originally led her to believe, but for the moment she’s glad to not have to say it.

“Yeah, exactly.”

His hand comes to rest over Nadya’s on the railing. He’s warmer than he should be and the sun’s got nothing to do with it. Likely his weirdness is helped by touch, too. Which Taylor all but confirms aloud when a sudden but not unwelcome ease relaxes the tension she didn’t know she’d gathered in her shoulders.

“I can’t offer any answers, and I don’t think I’d want to. With my luck I’d be wrong and you’d hate me forever.” He’s joking but Nadya still rolls her eyes and shakes her head for it.

“But I can say that no matter what happens? You’ll always have friends here to call up if needed.”

What is she supposed to say to something so sincere? “Same to you, Taylor, same to you.”

A sleek black car with tinted windows pulls around the corner and onto their lonely street to park right in front of the bar.

Looks like their ride is here.

Kamilah isn’t waiting for them when the plane pulls into the nice and shady hangar. Nadya tells herself she isn’t surprised by this… but she’s trying not to tell herself mostly-truths lately either. Luckily she’s still too exhausted (and she’s pretty sure she only got about half an hour’s nap in the entire time they were in New Orleans) to make much of a fuss about it.

In fact, Nadya barely remembers sending a text off before she and Lily both are being ushered into the back seat of one of Adrian’s company cars.

[TEXT]: back in NY and miss you like crazy. can we plz talk?? [TEXT]: its nadia

And its the most dreamless, dead-to-the-world-est sleep she knew she needed but didn’t know how to get. Staying awake for near-days and going through every emotion under the sun and also dealing with a high-stakes pursuit weren’t exactly on her list of viable solutions to her sleeping troubles.

Ergo the point of all this — no one is allowed to think her anything less than totally justified when Nadya wakes up in her own bed, in her own bedroom, sometime well after sunset and thinks for even the smallest second that everything was just a dream. She knows logically that it wasn’t… but still.

Totally justified.

When her eyes adjust to the lack of light Nadya realizes she’s not alone. There’s a figure sitting on the edge of her bed nearest the window, away from the door. Giving her the chance to escape if she needs it; making sure she doesn’t feel trapped.

Only one person would do that.

She fumbles for her glasses on the nightstand but leaves her bedside lamp untouched. Can’t shake the feeling like if she does turn the lights on then Kamilah will vanish. This is better for them both.

“Hi.”

Something moves near her head; Nadya leans back to see the woman pulling her fingertips away from where they had been combing through her hair gently. She wants it back so much she aches from the loss of them.

“Hello,” replies Kamilah; sounding awfully breathless for a woman who doesn’t need to breathe, “did you rest well? You… seemed to need it.”

Probably not what she meant to ask judging by the way the neon signs from across the street illuminate her in postmodern beauty. It’s okay though — Nadya isn’t sure she has the courage yet to say what really needs saying.

“When did you get here…?”

“Shortly after your return. Oh, Lily wished for you to know she’s left for the evening. She didn’t leave a message as to why.”

So it’s just been Nadya and Kamilah in the apartment for at least the daylight hours. Alone; together. And not talking about their problems.

When Nadya sits up (in part to look at Kamilah better, in part to make sure she doesn’t fall back asleep on accident) the bed dips as Kamilah shifts back; makes to stand and leave her with all this twin-sized budget bed kit to herself. And because she can’t stand a thought so terrible Nadya reaches out and stops her with a hand on her arm.

“Kamilah.”

A long pause — then; “Yes, Nadya?��

“Why are you here?”

“You messaged me,” so Nadya of course fumbles for her phone and finds it charging under her pillow, “though I suppose I should have realized you were exhausted beyond recognition.”

“Why’s that?”

“You spelled your own name wrong.”

Upon further inspection yes, yes she did. “Glad you weren’t expecting some other disaster you’re dating also named Nadia…” That she chooses not to dwell on the fact that she may have very well used that word for the first time in the middle of their first fight is actually self-care.

Or — she doesn’t until Kamilah’s been quiet for an awfully long time.

“Uhm — I take that back, actually — what I meant was…”

“I won’t disagree.”

Only Kamilah Sayeed could look so perfect framed in the flickering lights of a discount electronics shop.

“But you’re my disaster.”

Nadya kisses her because every other time it’s been Kamilah who takes the lead, takes charge, takes her. This isn’t some attempt to switch that dynamic either (in fact Nadya’s very happy with it just the way it is) but what else is she supposed to do seeing all these vulnerable parts of such an invulnerable woman one right after the other?

But — no, she can’t fall into this. Fall into her. Not without talking. But holy mother of crap she doesn’t wanna do anything but moan at the lips soft on her cheeks, her chin, her throat…

“Kamilah.”

Nadya only has to say her name once. They both know how this works. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel the hesitance; the resistance before they part and she all but forces them to meet eye-to-eye. Nor does it mean that she doesn’t take just the tiniest bit of happiness from it.

When Nadya starts pulling away Kamilah holds on just a little bit tighter. Only for a moment; then its gone.

“We can’t not —” — talk about this.

“I know; I agree.”

And she’s got a whole speech planned out in bullet points; not even fully seated and she’s already buzzing to jump right into it. Until—

“I was uncertain and without control. I fell back on old habits to bring my life to a heel — but those were the wrong choices to make. They nearly cost me… something very important.”

Kamilah’s hand falls open on top of the bedspread and Nadya takes it for the offering it is. Their fingers slot together familiar and like nothing’s changed but this is different. This is talking about it; this is… this is Kamilah apologizing. “They nearly cost me you, Nadya.”

Now is not the time to go all red in the face and flustered. Nadya’s willpower is astounding frankly. “There was never a second where I doubted that you cared. Not about what I was going through, or what it was doing to… to everything in my life. But I think there was a part of me that didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to believe that you and… and the you I saw were —” — were the same person.

Kamilah’s thumb strokes along her knuckles slow and rhythmic. “My thoughts are the same. I am not fragments of a woman; a queen, different than a soldier, different than a killer, different than who I am today. I am all of those things and more. And perhaps still there are parts of myself I have not yet come to know.”

Nadya chances a look up while she listens, but it’s the words Kamilah doesn’t say that catch her by surprise. The ones about who that person she doesn’t know could be. And—god she hopes she’s not reading too much into this—who she could be that person with.

“I think I get it now.”

“And what would that be?”

She squeezes their hands until it hurts because she knows it’s probably the weight of a feather to someone like Kamilah.

“We were scared of the same thing and for the same reasons; you… and your past. But I wanted to know more. I—I wanted to talk about it, without thinking of how hard bringing up all of those bad memories might be for you.”

Kamilah purses her lips and offers a slow nod. “Insightful; and perhaps I was so insistent on trying to keep that knowledge from you that I did not stop to consider what… I was saying in withholding it.”

Now the question is… where do they go from here?

“So we work on that — we try and… understand what the other is doing when she…”

“Makes a mistake she instantly regrets?”

Nadya smiles, but it’s strained. “That’s half of the things I do anyway though.”

“You know my meaning in the context of this, Nadya.”

“Yeah, but that’s not my only problem.” Which isn’t the best word she could use but at the moment she’s not focusing so much on word choice as actual feelings. And Nadya… feels a problem. There’s a breath of a second where it feels like Kamilah might start to pull away, but it passes.

She thinks better of it. She tries to understand.

“You are amazing, Kamilah. You are this… super gorgeous, super smart, super old—in a good way I swear—and super experienced vampire. But it’s not a smart thing for us to—to ignore that.”

“I wasn’t under the impression we had been.”

This is more painful to admit than Nadya thought it was gonna be. There’s no turning back now though; no ‘Restart from Checkpoint’ or save to load.

And this is so so important. Nadya wants to follow through, and not just for the sake of them. She deserves it for herself. “Maybe you haven’t — but I have. I thought that was the only way we were gonna make this work. Only, if I ignore that then I’m ignoring the fact that you are always going to have a power over me. A physical one. You lashed out and…”

“And I could have hurt you.” That Kamilah’s hand tightens with hers is the literal definition of ironic but she knows it comes from a good place; the same place all that honesty was walled up inside now pouring out.

“Nadya, please tell me you know I would never have hurt you. I don’t think I could.”

“That’s not the point. The point is you were angry, and your first reaction was to try and scare me into running away.”

See, this is Nadya’s problem. There’s a reason her life is so organized — without all her colored pens and sticky notes and multiple tabs that always end up in the strangest places, she’s a literal human mess. Prone to rambling and impulsive actions that aren’t always good for her health; physical and emotional both.

She didn’t organize this part of her talk with Kamilah. She didn’t even know this part existed. And now it’s out there in the world without a label tacked on and… and…

“And I don’t think that’s something I’m quite… over, yet.”

Nadya trusts Kamilah still; she doesn’t flinch away when the woman’s free hand comes up to her cheek — thumbs away a tear she didn’t know was falling. She can separate the then from the now.

But at the end of the day her trust and the way she had felt betrayed that night… they weren’t mutually exclusive.

She turns her face into the lingering palm. When she exhales her breath rattles in her lungs.

“I miss you.”

Kamilah’s hand betrays her composed silence; the barest tremor. “I’m here, Nadya.”

Nadya who doesn’t want to pull back, never wanted to pull back… but what is she saying to herself if she doesn’t?

“I miss you,” she repeats, “and I still care about you — I don’t really see that changing any time soon. And I’ll forgive you, really—I will. I just need some time.”

I know there are no promises you’ll be there when I’m ready, or if you won’t have moved on, or if you can’t forgive me for not forgiving you, or for not understanding you, or for making you feel this way. But I feel this way too.

And in all the things she wants to say but doesn’t, Nadya’s left still and heartbroken. Completely by her own design.

The bed dips and Nadya lets her eyes flutter closed as Kamilah’s lips press to her forehead. Not so much a kiss as a touch; something sincere and solid and so so sad.

Kamilah commits the warmth and life of her to memory. Nadya dares to hope that some day they’ll have all of this again.

She has to. If anything deserves hope right now it’s them.

Finally — too soon, too damned soon — a whisper tickles at her hairline.

“I’ll be here.”

When she opens her eyes Nadya is alone.

Jax has a really good point; if the heat from Adrian’s industrial-grade blowtorch hadn’t been enough to melt the gold, then they probably didn’t need to worry about his sword scratching the stupid thing up in any way that didn’t lend to opening it.

Everyone still backs up a few paces for good measure. They’ve all seen him in action — and the man needs a wide berth.

Nadya closes her eyes and braces herself but she still isn’t prepared for the hollow screeching clang every time the sharpened steel collides with the surface of the Amulet. One—two—three.

He stops after three. Judging by the enraged determination in his eye though he’d keep going given the opportunity.

Lily throws her hands up before crossing out ‘ASSAULT BY KATANA’ on the transparent eraser board. “I’m calling it. This thing is a horcrux.”

“A what?” asks Adrian, but Nadya just gives him the now familiar “I’ll explain it later” wave-off. Because unless pop culture references were the secret puzzle to opening the Amulet of Nero they weren’t that important in the moment.

She pushes her glasses up and unsuccessfully stifles a yawn with the back of her hand. Brings her focus back to their list of attempts to crack open (literally) the case… all of which have failed miserably.

‘METALWORKING HAMMER’ ‘REGULAR HAMMER’ ‘BLOWTORCH’ ‘ASKING IT NICELY’ (Nadya’s idea) ‘OPEN SESAME’ (Maricruz’s idea) ‘ASSAULT BY KATANA’

Off to the left Lily’s circled ‘MISSING KEY??’ over and over in the corner and while they had all agreed to try and hold out on just not having found the right amount of physical force they might as well face it.

They’re running out of options.

Adrian clears his throat and stares hard enough at Nadya that the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. “Ahem, Nadya, could you…?”

“Oh — yes — sorry guys, my bad.”

When she pulls the cover back over the Amulet the difference is immediate. The tension leaves her friends’ shoulders; they sit a little less restless and their eyes are a little less bordering-vampish.

Nadya wasn’t the only one who had been content to write off the strange aura that had come over the vampires in Isadora de la Rosa’s booth as nothing more than trepidation for the inevitable. Now, however, they have to face the facts.

There’s something in the Amulet that draws vampires to it. Cadence had said so himself — when he talked about generations of vampire influence. It’s not enough to incite a war (about which Nadya was admittedly worried, and with good reason given their track record) but covering it was a noticeable benefit to rational thinking.

They only have one thing going for them right now; if they can’t open it then no one else can, either. Hopefully that includes the Trinity. Maybe it even includes Gaius. Who knows? They certainly don’t.

There are too many unknowns — and they’re starting to take a toll on everyone in one form or another.

Adrian begins to gather up the dozens of data graphs spread out in front of him. “With that, I think we’ve come to a natural stopping point for the evening.” And nobody disagrees.

While Nadya carefully wraps the Amulet back up to return it to the R&D vault, Lily leans on her elbows and watches.

“I take it we still haven’t heard from Cadence? What about calling up Izzy?”

If only she had good news to give. “Nope; and I already did. She definitely remembers feeling that weird magnetism to it before it was repossessed by Persephone but nothing beyond that that she knew of. Actually,” she throws a look over to Adrian, “she suggested one thing; witch-fire? Something like that.”

He seems hesitant to mull the idea over. But they were desperate enough to let Jax hit it repeatedly, so…

“I’ll look into a few contacts. That kind of magic should only be used sparingly and in dire cases.”

“Would this count?”

A beat. “Probably. We would have to run it by the Council, though.” Which kind of nulls even the idea. Since everyone had agreed not to tell the rest of the Council yet. Not only because of the Amulet’s potential.

Lester, Priya, the Baron — Nadya likes to try and see the best in people as much as possible but they don’t make it easy on her. None of them are certain who would, if it came down to it, side against Gaius for a second time.

Nothing is unlikely anymore.

Wow, their shortest-lived idea yet.

Nadya nods towards the vault for Lily to follow. “As for the other thing — Kathy’s starting to get worried. I guess he left town a day after we did.” Which the Nighthunter had admitted wasn’t off-brand for Cadence. But the museum had let slip (which Nadya knows means ‘been bullied into admitting’) that he had been granted a leave of absence; very off-brand.

“The one thing he’s always had is that damn museum. No identity, no Izzy, and we both know I’m a recent development. He was a manic mess the first time that kind of dissociation happened.” The Nighthunter had kept her cool better than Nadya would have in her situation. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t worried ill.

“What if it’s worse this time,” even through the phone she couldn’t hide her concern; her fear, “what if he hurts himself? What if he hurts someone else?”

Hopefully they find him soon. But she’s met that strange group of people; the regulars at the Graveyard Shift. If anyone has the ability (and sheer force of stubborn will, to be honest) to find Cadence it’s them.

“I mean, if I went Jekyll and Hyde around a chick as crazy as that Trinity woman, I’d probably want to get away for my own health too.”

Lily’s comment doesn’t sit well with her; luckily at her admonishing look she at least looks apologetic. “You know what I mean.”

“I also know a little bit of what he’s going through.”

There’s an “ahem” behind them as Nadya spins the wheel on the vault. Adrian definitely has the look of someone who knows he shouldn’t have been eavesdropping but was anyway.

“Speaking of.”

Only… she’d rather not speak of it until it becomes a problem. “It’s fine,” she replies, and waves it off. That was what they’d agreed on for the time being, right? And there haven’t been any problems.

Turns out feeling the weight of relationship-burdened depression the moment you walk through your front door lends to a pretty heavy sleeping pattern. Like Nadya’s body doesn’t want her to do anything but try to get through the next day, and the next, and maybe… just maybe the one after that.

Adrian doesn’t seem immediately convinced. “Promise?”

“Pinky promise.” Which — he still doesn’t really get the concept but the verbal agreement is enough.

Once the lab is fully shut down they manage to pile together into the elevator. Jax thumbs at his phone, blows the hair out of his eyes just a little too close to Nadya’s ear for her liking. She swats him away because personal bubble.

“What’s the matter?”

“Eh, Espinoza wants —” But he catches himself with a look in Lily’s direction. “— something. She wants something. And I gotta… go get it.”

Nadya and Adrian just shake their heads and laugh at him while Lily pretends with absolutely no tact whatsoever not to know what he’s talking about. She even sticks her fingers in her ears like that’ll somehow stop her super vampire hearing.

Jax, somehow with even less tact, like negative tact, takes it as permission to lean and murmur on Nadya’s free side. “Apparently Lula got into the cake. So…”

“Weren’t there three?” Adrian hisses, surprised.

“You’ll get it when you meet her.”

Nadya reaches around and pats Jax’s chest awkwardly. “Good luck with that. Maybe try putting them in the passenger seat this time.”

“Shut up.”

“Just saying… third time’s the charm you know.”

When she gives Lily a nod in ‘all clear’ everyone knows she heard everything. But she’s just excited to know Maricruz is going as all-out as she possibly can, so who would be so heartless as to spoil the whole thing by just admitting the obvious?

Adrian lets them all off on the ground level and offers Nadya one last chance to go home early. “What do you pay her for if you keep giving her chances to not work?” And Jax raises a good point — too good of a point. She maybe shoves him in front of her with all her might, and he maybe stumbles. The world may never know. “Just saying — let me know next time there’s an opening.”

“I’ll be up in a sec. I just have to stake him first.”

She and Lily wave until the doors close. Yes, they live together and see each other every day. Yes, they recently defied death in New Orleans together. But its rare now that Nadya and Lily get a chance to unwind like they used to. So whenever it comes along they’re both there to indulge greedy and giggling.

“Mari’s really going all out with this party, huh?”

It’s a valiant effort but Lily doesn’t look so much humbly embarrassed as expectantly excited. “I think I’m in love, Nadi’,” she jumps the next few steps like hopscotch, “she was fully ready to get a bouncy castle.”

“How are they going to fit a bouncy castle in the Shadow Den?”

“Oh I didn’t say I let her. But she was planning on it, and isn’t that what true love is all about?”

Nadya tries not to falter. Key word being tries. And around anyone else she might do everything in her power not to draw attention to it but this is Lily. Who found her huddled up in bed hours after Kamilah’s farewell and called to cancel her own date to stay with her; to be there for her and give her all the hugs she desperately needed but didn’t know how to ask for.

She doesn’t need to pretend around that kind of love and friendship.

But before Nadya can apologize Lily starts up an air drum solo in front of her while they walk. “And winner for Most Insensitive Best Friend Ever is — drum roll…”

“You’re fine, Lil’.”

“I’m gushing about my life while you’re… not so hot.”

Nope, Nadya won’t have it. “You’re gonna gush because you have every right to gush, okay? You’ve been a vampire for a whole year. That’s super important. You survived Turning, became the digital fanged crusader, and it’s ten times more cool because you did it all without a brand. Jax and Adrian can’t say that. Heck… even Kamilah can’t.

“So if you want a Turning party, you’re gonna get a Turning party. I’m not the only one who thinks you’re worth celebrating.” They lace their fingers and Nadya squeezes. “Plus if Jax shows up with the third set of cakes to a canceled party I think he might flip his lid.”

Lily gives a dramatic little sniffle — pretends to wipe a nonexistent tear from her eye. “Please tell me you just memorized all that.”

“Why?”

“Because it’ll be the speech to end all speeches.”

Together they play-shove all the way through the Raines Building atrium. Right before the revolving door Lily spins her around, takes both of their hands together and swings them gently.

“Do you want me to uninvite her? She probably doesn’t even care.”

“No — and even if we broke up, like, badly I wouldn’t want that. I’m just not that kind of person.”

“True, you’d probably invite them to Christmas dinner or something.”

She rolls her eyes at that and ignores it for her own sanity. “And for the record — as someone with experience in decoding Kamilah-isms, I think you surprised her. She admires strength, and Lily… you’re the strongest person I know.”

When they hug, like always, their glasses get jostled in the middle and the following laughter lightens both of their hearts. Lily makes her promise to add that last line to her speech (which inadvertently is a promise to write a speech, she’s guessing) and only when she’s out the doors and around the corner of the block does Nadya head back up to the office.

Adrian is leaning in his open doorway when she exits the elevator — Nadya slows her steps for a hesitant second before coming to realize he’s just having another one of his pensive moods. He’s been having them a lot lately. More and more since they returned from New Orleans.

This one looks different though. He’s not staring into space — he’s staring at her.

“What?” She finally yields, glancing at her boss over her shoulder while the computer boots up slow as a snail. “What’s that face for?”

Nadya nearly convinces herself he isn’t going to answer.

“It’s good to see you smiling, that’s all.” He leans out and squeezes her shoulder; something soft and friendly and so sweet her teeth ache from it. Before Adrian can pull away Nadya makes sure to return the gesture.

“It’s good to smile,” which is far more bleak than she would like, “you know something?”

Adrian pauses mid-step. “Hm?”

“It’s even better to mean it.”

#bloodbound #playchoices fanfiction #choices bb #kamilah x mc #kamilah sayeed #bloodbound mc #mc: nadya al jamil #nightbound mc #mc: taylor hunter #adrian raines #jax matsuo #lily spencer #fic: oblivion bound #oblv: bound by destiny ii #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

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