Chains Of Love

By Merzibelle

Gilded Dawn

"Wesley?"

Wes looked up from the papers he was translating: Ancient Egyptian prophecies and their Portuguese commentary. He shook his head to clear it. He hated translating translations. "Yes?"

"Today's your birthday and I didn't know what to get, so I wandered a lot and Cordy was getting mad at me. But this called to me, so I bought it." With that rather rambled explanation, Fred stepped close enough to drop a package on top of the papers, turning and almost running out the door before Wes could say a word.

Wes stared down at the gaily-wrapped package sitting on his desk, and then looked back up at the door through which Fred had just disappeared. Sighing, wondering what was wrong with her, even as he smiled at seeing that she was still wearing the necklace he'd given her, Wes reached for the package she'd left on his desk. Leaning back in his chair, he considered it for a moment before painstakingly unwrapping it.

Beneath the elaborate paper was a small box, about the size that would hold a ring box, and Wes raised an eyebrow before opening it. Setting the lid on the desk, he tipped out the small ring box that the outer box did indeed hold. Laying aside the box, Wes cracked the black velvet-covered ring box to see what it contained, gasping in surprise at its contents.

Nestled on a bed of black velvet was a beautiful gold ring. It was old enough that the gold had darkened, burnished by age. Set with small rubies, it was obviously a man's pinky ring, done in the Egyptian revival style so popular in the mid-Victorian era. Plucking the ring from the box, Wes considered it for a moment, wondering why it felt so familiar to him. Shaking off the feeling, he slipped it onto his left hand, and then started looking for the Egyptian passage that he was trying to translate.

The ring was warm. That bothered him, as well as the way it kept drawing his attention, almost as if it was expecting something from him. Finally frustrated, Wes leaned back in his chair, rubbing his thumb over the ring. "Look, tell me what you want so I can get back to work." As if in answer, the rubies flashed in the light. For a moment, Wes thought it was a reflection from the desk lamp. Then he heard it, a soft, masculine voice, speaking in a long dead language that Wesley mentally translated.

"First Prophet of Amun, Neferkheperure, my chosen. Life to Life, the gift was given. You accepted the power and the duty to it. Never were you meant to walk alone. Yet always alone, one or both. See, my chosen, and remember."

. . . . He stood gazing out onto the night. Alone, for the Pharaoh had declared the temples obsolete. Only his chosen god was to exist. Much had changed in the last year: the temple had lost funds; the countryside was in near ruin. He hoped that the death of the heretic would end this. Yet now, squabbles had begun between rival factions within the new palace, as to who would marry the heiress. The youngest princess, given into his care not long after her birth, was well sheltered away from those intrigues. The Nebet-Tawy had been correct in sending her youngest away from the court when the whispers and gossip began. Now eight, the girl was more priestess than princess. She knew, in theory, what her rank was, but had never once been to court. Why should she go to court, when the priests of Amun weren't even welcome? The soft sound of bare feet on stone, running though the court behind him, caused the man to turn from the window. "Setepenre, what are you doing, child?"

"Neter Hem Tep, word has come that Pharaoh has returned to Thebes. Tut-ankh-aten is now married to my sister, Ankhesenpaaten. He is ruler. Will I have to go to court now?"

"No, child. You will stay here. None there know of you, but I will inform the new Pharaoh that you are here." Neferkheperure crouched and held his arms out to the confused child, torn between a family she had little knowledge of and the home she'd always known. . . .

. . . . "Gunn!"

Wes shifted in the chair, Fred's soft cry from the lobby breaking him out of the images. No, those were memories, that he'd been experiencing. Wes stared out the window between the office and the lobby, watching as Fred was whirled about by Gunn before being thoroughly kissed. Wes bowed his head, resting his hands on the books on his desk.

The ring on his hand glimmered in the lamplight and for a moment, a very long moment, he was tempted to rip it off and throw it back at her. Yet, he couldn't do that. It was his, just as the necklace was hers. Seeing her with him, his best friend, was like being shot again, a terrible, gut-wrenching agony, and a longing for death. Leaning back in the chair, Wes closed his eyes. "You wanted me to remember. So show me. It's better than watching that."

"As you will, my chosen. . . ."

. . . . Neferkheperure stalked through the temple, angered by the latest news from the court just across the river. The Pharaoh was dead, mysteriously dead, and the Hemet Nesu Weret in hiding at Memphis. It bothered him and now he worried over the girl still in his care. She was seventeen now, more than old enough for marriage. Yet no one from the palace had come, not even now, only sent word that she was to be sent across the river at dawn to join the household of her sister.

People scattered out of his way as he headed for his private chambers. No one wanted to get in the way of the Neter Hem Tep when he was in this mood. Only the Sit Nesu, Setepenre, could handle the Neter Hem Tep. Many wondered what hold she had on him, but it seemed as if even that was coming to an end as she aged. Rarer and rarer were the occasions when he allowed the young woman into his presence.

Reaching the doors to his chambers, he nodded at the guards who opened them before him, then closed them again once he'd passed within. Crossing the outer chamber, he removed the ceremonial pectoral he'd worn for the first of the ceremonies to honor the late Pharaoh, carelessly tossing it onto a nearby chest. Reaching for the armbands, he was surprised to feel soft hands cover his.

"You are angered, Neferkheperure."

He froze, standing perfectly still as her hands trailed across his back as she circled him. "Setepenre, what are you doing?" He somehow managed to remain still, not betray how her touch was affecting him. "I asked a question. Answer me."

"I'm making my choice." She stood before him, her almost sheer draperies doing little to hide her body from him. She had dressed as Princess, not as Priestess. "Am I not allowed that? Is it not my right to chose a lover?"

"It is." Neferkheperure took a step back, removing her hands from his body. "You are also Princess, the next heiress after Ankhesenpaamun. You can not do this."

"I can. I will." Setepenre followed him as he back away, trapping him against the wall. "Would you deny me this? Your love? Would you truly give me to them?" She pressed into him, writhing against him, then reaching for the belt holding his kilt in place.

He caught her hands, wrapping his around her wrists. "I am Neter Hem Tep. I must uphold the law." He shoved her back, stepping away toward the nearby window alcove.

"I am the King's Daughter. The Royal Princess. I am above the law," She cried, crossing the room to again reach for him.

"You are behaving as a child." Neferkheperure turned away to stare into the distance outside. "Would you make me less than what I am, solely to appease you whims?"

"Neferkheperure!" She cried, upset. "I love you! Do not deny me this."

He turned to face her, leaning on the wall edging the alcove. "You do not know love. Ay was correct in requesting your presence at the Palace. You have been too sheltered here. It is time for you to grow up."

"NO!" She flung herself at him, shouting, "No! I will not go!"

"You are going, Setepenre. Within these walls, I am in charge. You may go as Princess and Priestess, a woman of rank and knowledge, or you will be escorted to the palace, under guard, as a child would be. Either way, you will go."

"I hate you!" Setepenre screamed, flinging a nearby goblet at him before running for the heavy doors, dragging one open and running through the halls.

Neferkheperure watched her go, nodding once to the guards who again closed the door she had left open. Alone, he sighed, resting a hand on the edge of the window opening. It had been hard to send her away, to agree to send her to the palace and its intrigues. She was innocent, far too innocent for life there; however, it was time. She needed to learn of her true place. . .

The creak of the office door as it was slid open and closed was what brought Wes out of his memories this time. Opening his eyes, he turned to see Cordy, a sleeping Connor in her arms, standing just inside his office. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I couldn't stay out there anymore."

"What's going on?" Wes resettled his glasses properly, shifting about to watch Cordy.

"Oh, they're having a fight. Something about him wanting her to do something. I don't really know." Cordy shrugged, then settled into one of the chairs in the office. "I just want them to stop shouting. I'm getting a headache." Cordy then cast a considering glance on Wes, "didn't you hear them?"

"No, I was busy." Wes rose to his feet. "I'll go check this out."

"Are you. . . ." Cordy stopped at the look on Wes' face as he headed for the door. She turned her attention to the baby she held. "It's a good thing your daddy has better sense," she muttered to the baby. The pair were shocked when Wes opened the door and they both heard Fred shouting at Gunn.

"You aren't him! He never treated me like a child. I know how to make decisions and I'm not going with you. Now leave me alone!"

Wes looked over his shoulder at Cordelia who shrugged and rolled her eyes at him. Shrugging in response, Wes left the office, watching as Fred shoved Gunn away from her and ran up the stairs, apparently headed for her room. Entering the lobby, Wes spoke softly. "Gunn?"

The younger man whirled on him. "This is your fault. I had no problems with Fred until you gave her that necklace. Why did you have to interfere?" Not giving the Englishman a chance to answer, Gunn stormed out of the lobby, slamming the door behind him.

Wes stood there for a moment, looking after Gunn and trying to decide if he should follow him to explain things. Shaking his head, he sat on the sofa in the center of the lobby, dropping his head into his hands before running his fingers through his hair. Most of all he wanted to go to Fred, to find out what made her so angry. But she had said she wanted to be alone, so he sat there instead, wondering what was happening.

Fred stormed into her room, slamming the door behind her. She didn't know what had just happened, but she felt amazingly better. She flopped onto her bed, one hand going to the necklace Wes had given her. She trailed the pendant back and forth over the chain, the rhythmic hissing relaxing her into a state of almost sleep. As she started to drift off, she murmured, "Let me find him again."

Downstairs, Wes returned to his office, nodding to Cordy as he passed her. Cordy headed upstairs to join Angel for Connor's next feeding, wondering why Wes looked so haunted. Shaking her head, she threw it off, looking forward to the alone time with her Angel.

Wes entered his office, leaving the door open as he returned to his chair. Settling down in it, he clasped his hands together and propped his feet on the edge of the desk. He felt as if he was being watched, wondered about it and sighed. "Fred. It's always been Fred. She was Amelia. . . . and Amira. But why? Why did I always lose her?"

"My chosen, did you lose her? Or did you not try? Remember, my chosen, and learn. . . ."

. . . . Setepenre crossed the courtyard of the Great Temple of Amun. She had to find him; he would help her. And if he wouldn't, perhaps he'd show her how it was supposed to be, without the threats and the violence. She was Ta Hemet Nesewt now. He would have to do what she asked. She wanted one night, one night without fear.

Creeping into the courtyard of the private quarters of the priests, she quickly found the outer doors to Neferkheperure's rooms. Carefully, she opened the door, slipping into the room. He slept. She stood, watching him, always watchful herself, afraid of discovery.

She was always afraid now. It was only recently as the priestess of Isis confirmed that she was with child that her guards were relaxed and she was allowed out of the suite of rooms assigned to her as royal wife and queen. She wanted the old days back, when she and Neferkheperure spent hours learning the old texts. She missed him so much. Finally, she reached for him, touching him lightly.

Neferkheperure jerked awake, a hand going under his pillow for the dagger he habitually kept there. Pulling the person who'd touched him down, he laid the blade against the attacker's throat.

"Neferkheperure!" Setepenere whispered hoarsely. "It is I, Setepenere."

"What are you doing here?" Neferkheperure replied, releasing her and sitting up. "In my rooms, at this hour."

"I need your help." She squirmed, getting as close to him as she could. "Please, I know you won't help me leave. You are too honorable for that, but make me not afraid." Setepenere blushed and looked down at the bedding, her hands clenched on her lap.

"Afraid?" Neferkheperure asked softly. "You have never been afraid of anything."

"I am now." She looked away. "He hurts me. Is it supposed to be that way?"

Neferkheperure stared at the young woman, afraid that he knew what she referred to and cursed himself again for sending her away four years before. Even though he knew that was what was needed at the time, he hated having to do it, losing her to that man who now ruled Kemet with an iron hand. "No, my princess. It's not." Reaching out a hand, he trailed his fingers over her cheek. "What would you have of me, Setepenere?"

Greatly daring, she reached out a hand, resting it over the ruby in the amulet that was representative of his office. "Love me. Show me how it's supposed to be." Slowly, she raised her other hand, resting it on his cheek. "Please, love me. Before he finds me gone."

Raising his hand, clasping hers and the ruby, Neferkheperure leaned toward her, raising his own hand to cup her cheek and pull her to him. "Gladly, my princess. I would love you forever, if only you would say the word. You have long been my beloved." He brushed her lips with his own, then whispered, "My princess, my priestess, may the gods smile upon us and give us happiness. If not now, then in our next life."

"Yes, Neferkheperure, yes," She whispered, pulling him close for another kiss. "I have loved you forever, will love you forever. . . ."

. . . .A soft, barely felt touch drew Wes out of the images playing in his mind. He opened his eyes to find Fred, her expression soft and dreamy, kneeling on the floor beside him. She had reached across him, resting her hand on his chest. As he watched her, she slowly raised her eyes from her hands to his face. Fred's eyes were unfocused as she looked at him. "Love me? Will you ever love me, Wesley?"

Wes reached out a hand, stroking Fred's hair. "I do. Look at me, Fred." Mentally, he asked the voice, the one that he now knew was a very ancient god, "Bring her back to me. Let us have our happiness."

"As you will, my chosen. Have you learned?"

Wes laughed softly, "I have. Please, great one. Bring her back to me." Wes watched Fred, watched as she slowly seemed to come out of the trance that she was in. Before she could say a word, he clasped his hand over hers, shifting it to rest over his heart. With his other hand, he traced her cheek. Sitting up, he shifted his hand behind her neck, tugging her up next to him. "I love you, Fred. I have for a very, very long time."

Fred smiled, staring at Wesley. "I. . . . " She broke off, stepping closer, so that she was now standing between his legs in front of him. "Wesley, I love you." She reached out, brushing a stray lock of his hair off his face. "I'm afraid. Afraid I'm going to lose you. Don't leave me. Please don't leave me."
Wes tangled a hand in her hair, dragging her close to him. "Never, my love." He dropped his gaze from her eyes to her mouth, pulling her even closer as he leaned toward her. "Forever, Fred," he whispered, brushing a soft kiss on her lips, causing her to gasp, wrapping her arms around his neck and lean into him. After a brief moment, Wes pulled away, over Fred's whimper of protest. She squirmed against him and he chuckled. "No, Fred. We have centuries to make up for. Let's not rush things. Come walk with me?"

Fred blushed, knowing what he meant. They had time now. Taking a step back, she asked, "Ice cream?" She held out a hand, tugging him to his feet and falling in step with him as they walked through the lobby. Neither cared that they were watched by a forlorn young man, a somewhat happy couple and a very happy, very ancient deity from various points around the room. They were just happy to be together.

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