Main Pairing: Ardeth Bay/Original Female Character
Summary: As an orphan, Sadie has struggled to survive Egypt her whole life, but she always survives, nonetheless. Her skills are tested when Rick comes knocking on their door after escaping the noose in prison. He's got a job for them, and when have those jobs ever gone wrong?
The desert awaits them, along with something else shrouded with mystery. Rick recognizes the men in dark robes and facial tattoos from his previous journey to Hamunaptra, but for Sadie, her experience goes far deeper than that, and not even the undead can make her forget it.
Tag: # mummified memories series
(Posted on AO3)
Full series (WIP)
desert flowers are the most adaptable (Complete)
isn't it strange (Chapters 5/6)
Other fun stuff for the series:
"Laughing with the enemy" edit
Alex O'Connell "My Family" edit
Incorrect quotes
Ai generated images of OC
Disclaimer: I do not own the Mummy's plot, lore, and/or characters. All rights go to their respective creators. I only own my original character, Sadie.
Universe: The Mummy (1999) / The Mummy Returns (2001)
Word Count: 1777
Requested: @omgsuperstarg mentioned that they would like to read about wedding with Ardeth - so here it is!
Warnings: mention of food, crying. The phrase in italic at the end means that it is said in Arabic. I tried to show wedding traditions in Egypt and it could work out very poorly. I did online research, but there can be mistakes. I didn’t mean to offend anybody, but if it happens, please tell me, and I’ll try to fix this immediately.
If I forgot about anything feel free to write to me. Your wellbeing is important to me!
Summary: The one when the day they both wished for finally come.
Universe: The Mummy (1999) / The Mummy Returns (2001)
Word Count: 1292
Requested: No, but I couldn’t resist writing about this man. My first love…
Warnings: mention about death situations that happened in “The mummy returns”, mention of food, crying, tattoos. The phrase in italic at the end means that Ardeth said it in Arabic.
If I forgot about anything feel free to write to me. Your wellbeing is important to me!
Summary: The one where their life together started.
Universe: The Mummy (1999) / The Mummy Returns (2001)
Word Count: 2062
Requested: No. Just come back to writing about man and country that I love
Many thanks to @saradika-graphics. I found your dividers, and couldn't help but think about Ardeth Bay!
Warnings: mention of the possibility of death and things that happened in " The Mummy Returns", mention of food, crying and tattoos. Pregnancy, childbirth and having kids. The phrase in italic at the end means that Ardeth said it in Arabic - translation at the end!
If I forgot about anything feel free to write to me. Your wellbeing is important to me!
Summary: The one where he comes home with the wind and finds his heart waiting in her arms.
Imhotep arose again. And she couldn’t do anything.
She watched her husband go after Imhotep’s supporters. When she heard the news about them going to London, her fear intensified. She waited with their close friend, one of Ardeth’s most trusted men, for any news. She had to fight just to get information. Everyone treated her like she was fragile, as if she might break. They didn’t want to stress her more. Still, she had her ways to get news.
She helped to gather the commanders of the twelve tribes of the Medjai and welcomed her husband and her brother’s family to Egypt. She saw how heartbroken Evy and Rick were, and she didn’t even want to imagine that feeling.
Now she stood not far from the dirigible that would take them away. She watched their son hug Ardeth tightly. The man had his eyes closed and gently caressed the boy’s back, whispering calming words. She put a hand on her round belly. Their unborn child kicked strongly within her.
It was the reason she couldn’t join the journey. She was too close to giving birth. She had to stay behind in the village, unable to protect them herself, while they went off to face the dangers that threatened the world. All she could do was pray for their safety and trust that they would return.
Ardeth looked up and smiled, gently patting his son’s back. When he looked at the boy, he wiped the tears from his small face and kissed the top of his head.
“Be good for your mother, alright?”
“Of course, abu. I’ll take care of Mother and baby sister.”
The boy stood tall, trying to look brave. Ardeth couldn’t stop his smile. For some reason, their son was sure she was carrying a girl. Nobody could change his mind.
“I know you will,” Ardeth said, hugging him again. “I love you.”
“I love you too, abu.”
She came closer and gently put her hand on the boy’s shoulder. They both looked up at her, and she smiled at them. Ardeth kissed his son’s head one more time and stood before his wife. He softly touched her belly, hoping to feel their baby move.
“Qamari…”
“I know,” she whispered. “We will wait for you in the village. I’ll have Shereen’s help. So please, come back to us.”
As if to confirm her words, the baby kicked right against his hand.
“I will do everything in my power to come back, qamari.” He wrapped his arms around his family and kissed her temple. “But if I fall… the desert will carry my love to you.” She clenched his robe in her hand and hid her face in his neck, trying to calm down. Then she kissed his skin softly.
“I love you, Ardeth Bay. Omri.”
She touched his cheek tenderly. She didn’t care who saw them when she rose on her toes and kissed him on the lips. He caressed the back of her head, feeling the softness of her hair under his rough fingers. He wished he could keep her close just a little longer. When their lips parted, the sound of engines reached them. The dirigible crew was preparing to leave. The hot desert wind lifted grains of sand between them, dancing like whispers of fate.
Ardeth looked at her one last time, memorizing every line of her face, the warmth of her eyes, the strength behind her gentle look.
“Take care of them,” he said softly to the man standing nearby - the Medjai warrior who had been at his side since boyhood.
“With my life, chieftain,” the man said, placing a hand over his heart.
She felt tears rising, but refused to let them fall. Her husband needed to see strength, not sadness. So she lifted her chin, one hand resting protectively on her belly, the other gently stroking her son’s back.
Ardeth gave her one last smile - the kind that carried both love and destiny - before turning and walking toward the dirigible. Their son ran after him, waving with both hands until Ardeth disappeared from sight.
The rumble of the engines grew louder. The ship lifted, shining in the early morning light, casting a short shadow over the dunes. She stood there until it became only a small dot in the sky - until the desert silence swallowed the sound completely.
—
Days in the village passed like slow-moving sand - every sunrise a prayer, every sunset a plea whispered to the desert winds. The Medjai went back to their usual routines, but everything felt heavier, quieter. The women worked, the men trained, and even the children’s laughter sounded softer, as if the desert itself held its breath.
Every morning she woke up before the dawn, listening to the wind that swept over the dunes, clutching the small amulet Ardeth had given her on their wedding night - the mark of his tribe, his promise.
She tried to stay busy on days that were so familiar, but different at the same time. She was helping prepare food for the warriors, mending clothes, and organizing the scrolls Ardeth had left in his study. But no matter what she did, the silence pressed against her heart.
Their son was her light these days. She watched him play nearby with the younger Medjai children, pretending to be a commander like his father. Every night, he would sit beside her, cuddling her side and keeping his little hand against her belly. She eagerly told stories that he was asking for: about his father’s adventures, the old gods, and the legends of the desert. Sometimes, when he finally drifted to sleep, she would remain awake beside him, listening to the rhythm of his breathing.
—
For days, she felt her body preparing for birth, yet she hoped Ardeth would come back before the baby arrived. Shereen and Faris didn’t leave her alone for long, and she was grateful for that when the time finally came. One look was enough for Shereen to be by her side, squeezing her hand with a warm smile. The pain came in waves, and she tried to be brave for her son, who didn’t want to leave her. She smiled at him and kissed the top of his head.
“Biibi, go with Faris. He’ll teach you amazing things to show your father. I’ll be just fine.”
He nodded bravely, eyes wide and shiny. He hugged her one more time, and then he was gone.
The air inside the tent grew thick, the scent of oil and herbs mixing with sand and sweat. She focused on the soft sound of the midwives’ prayers, clutching her amulet. When the moment came, the cry that filled the tent was strong and clear, the cry of life meeting the endless desert night. The midwife smiled through her tears and lifted the newborn.
“A girl,” she said. “Just as your son said.”
She let out a shaking breath and held the child to her chest. The baby’s warmth spread through her like sunlight, and she kissed her tiny cheek, whispering thanks to God.
—
Days passed in a haze of tiredness and peace. The newborn slept close to her heart, her son always nearby, watching over them with a serious face. He was a young protector of the family, like he promised his father. The women brought food, whispered blessings, and moved softly around her tent. But the nights were hardest - long, quiet hours broken only by the wind, her baby’s small cries, and her own thoughts.
Then one evening, the wind changed.
It carried voices. Faint at first, then clearer. Hooves. The sound of men returning. Her heart skipped a beat. She pressed her daughter close and stepped out of the tent. Her son quickly grabbed her hand. He was looking toward the noise. She smiled and stroked his hand.
“The warriors are coming, Biibi.”
He looked up at her with big eyes. “Let’s go to the square, Mother!”
They walked toward the center of the village. She had to call the boy to slow down as he ran ahead. When she reached the gathering place, she saw dust in the distance. Riders. Her heart raced. She held her son close.
“Mother, it’s abu! I see him!”
Her eyes followed where he pointed - and there he was.
Ardeth rode at the front, tired but unbroken, the desert wind catching his cloak. His face was streaked with sand, but his eyes — when they found hers — were alive, bright with the same light she loved.
He quickly jumped off his horse and rushed toward them. Their son ran to him, and with a loud laugh, Ardeth caught him, hugging him tight.
“I missed you, abu! Missed you big!”
“I missed you too, my boy.” Ardeth kissed his hair and then looked at his wife. He froze for a second, eyes locked on the small bundle in her arms. His steps slowed as he came closer, disbelief and wonder filling his face.
Ardeth’s gaze softened. It was that same look he’d given her on their wedding night, the one filled with awe and devotion. He reached out, almost hesitantly, his calloused fingers brushing the edge of the blanket. The baby stirred and made a small sound, her tiny hand curling around his finger. The warrior who had faced death without fear suddenly looked as though he might crumble.
“They’re so small…” he murmured, his voice trembling with emotion. “And perfect.”
Their son grinned proudly, his little chest puffed out. “See, abu? I told you it’s a baby sister! I knew it!”
They both laughed at his, and she gently touched Ardeth’s face with her fingers. He nuzzled his face on her palm, closing his eyes for a few seconds. He moved slightly, placing a kiss on her wrist. For the first time in days, she felt like she could breathe again.
“Omri, I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek. “Our daughter couldn’t wait to meet you.”
“You are incredible, qamari.” He kissed her temple, peace finally returning to his heart. She looked up into his eyes, and he felt his heart rushing like on their wedding day. He lowered his forehead to hers, closing his eyes, breathing in her warmth, the familiar scent of home.
When he finally drew back, his gaze fell to the sleeping infant in her arms. “May I?” he asked softly. She nodded, smiling through her tears. He gently set down their son, ruffling his dark curls. She placed the child into his waiting arms. The Medjai chieftain cradled the tiny life as though she were the most fragile treasure in the world. His thumb brushed the baby’s cheek, and he smiled at the soft sounds she made.
"She has your eyes,” he murmured, wonder showing in his voice.
“And your stubborn spirit,” she said with a soft laugh. He kissed her cheek, but then her voice turned worried. “Ardeth… did you find Alex? What about Rick and Evy?” At the mention of the young boy, of his nephew, he looked down at his own boy, who leaned against his mother. Medjai smiled and ran his fingers through the boy's hair.
“We found him. Alex was brave. Braver than most men. Rick and Evy… they have faced much, but they are together. Safe now. And Imhotep is gone - for good this time.”
She let out a long, shaking breath and squeezed her amulet tightly. “Thank God…”
“They send their love - and thanks. Evelyn said she will write to you as soon as they reach home. They want to know all about the baby and our brave son.”
Pride showed clearly on Ardeth’s face as he looked at the boy. His wife smiled, pressing a kiss to their son’s hair. “My brave warrior.”
The desert wind stirred around them, carrying the scent of myrrh and firelight. Ardeth glanced at his wife, at the peace in her eyes, the love that had carried them through every storm - and felt something settle deep within him.
“Let’s go home,” he murmured, his arm wrapping around her shoulders. Together they walked through the village, now full of laughter and joy for the returning warriors.
And under the stars that shone brightly, a new chapter in their life began. One filled with childish laughter, warm embraces, and love that would never fade.
Dictionary:
Qamari (قَمَري) - “my moon.”
Omri (عُمري) - “my life.”
Abu (أبو) -means “father of” but is often used as a loving nickname or title.
Biibi — A cute, affectionate nickname for the child.
Author's note: I'm back! With new work, after new adventures (Can you believe I finally was in Egypt?! I saw Karnak with my own eyes, guys!) and with a new piece about Ardeth Bay! I didn't know I missed writing that much until I did it in just two days. I can't promise you that I will stay here for a long time. There is so much to do, so many books to read and shows to watch. But as always, I will try.
I love every one of you who read my works, leave cuddos or reblog them. You don't even know how important it was to me!
Thank you so much for reading! If it’s not too much trouble, I would love to hear your thoughts about it. Any feedback is greatly appreciated and motivate me to work.
I am sorry about every grammar mistake and misspellings. English is not my first language.
Klaudia 💜
Taglists are always open! If you want to be added fill this up or send me an ask!
Taglist: @cheriebondy @alexxavicry @anonymously35 @silverose365 @ariesandwolves @thisismypage28 (I don't know who of you is still active and if you want to be here, but I'll try my luck 💜)
I need you, protect yourself (Husband! Ardeth Bay x Wife! Reader PART 2)
Your nightmares came back to you, just like they did ten years ago, before you even married Ardeth, only this time it was worse because you had to abandon your children to go with your husband to save the world…again …It felt like an eternity at the beginning.
Investigate the search for Imhotep in secret for months, arrive in London, see how your nephew, whom you had not seen for years, was kidnapped, return to Egypt in search of him… say goodbye to your husband, watching him get lost in the undergrowth from the jungle, not knowing if he was going to survive Anubis' army…Truly traumatic.
But now it was just another nightmare, right? A twisted game that played your head to see you suffer.
You saw the wounds on his face, his tattoos and his tanned skin emerging from the sand, and when you hugged him again…you really thanked God.
Your head was pressed against your husband's injured back the entire trip home, your arms clinging to his chest, as if letting him go from your arms again was mortal… Your head covered with your white linen cloaks, shielding you from the burning sun as the two returned home victorious again, with what was left of the Medjai army following them.
And when they arrived at the town and the cheers of its people could be heard to the heavens, while they cried with joy and threw flower petals at them, you thought that everything had been worth it.
Ardeth got off his horse and helped you off of it. His eyes analyzed yours and finally joined in a passionate kiss, a kiss that you had not experienced in a long time, and that you had hoped to feel. You turned to putty in his strong arms, sighing.
The other families were with the warriors who had returned…and those who did not mourn their loss, but were proud that their sons, husbands, brothers and fathers had died in such a noble cause.
—MOM, DAD!—
Oh, for god's sake, when you heard those two little voices in the crowd, you knew everything had turned out well.
You let go of your husband's arms with euphoria, and looked around, only to see your two kids running towards you. Your eyes suddenly stung with tears and you ran to throw yourself on the ground, just like your husband, who, like you, opened his arms towards them.
Your daughter and son threw themselves into your arms with joy, as tears ran down your face and you hugged them tightly, filling their faces and heads with kisses.
You felt Ardeth's arms around the three of you, you leaned on his chest and continued kissing their heads.
—My children, my babies —
You said, Ardeth caressed your son's head and kissed your hair.
[…]
Your children lay asleep, and music and laughter could be heard from the center of the village from the festival in their honor, you watched the fun of your village with a smile before finally entering your shared tent.
Your eyes fell on Ardeth, who lay standing with his back to you, watching the flames of the torch burn down.
You walked towards him slowly and wrapped your arms around his chest, resting your head on his shoulder blade.
—We're in home…—
You sighed, your husband turned around and hugged you, burying his face in your neck and placing a kiss on it. His beard tickled you and a small giggle left your lips as he clung to you tighter.
—When was the last time you were in my arms like this?—
He asked, kissing your shoulders covered with the black fabric.
—Months ago…—
You said, sighing and closing your eyes.
—Ardeth…do you think…that thing will come back?—
You asked, a shiver running down your spine. Your husband left your neck and took his hands from your waist to your cheeks.
—If he did, I would be calm… I'm talking about, I have the bravest warrior in the entire desert by my side, why should I be afraid?—
He said smiling, kissing your lips. The kiss became more fiery as the minutes passed. You broke away from the kiss and looked at him, with a flirtatious smile and a look that expressed mischief.
—If so, why don't you come and we have a sword fight?—
The Medjai let out a loud laugh and his grip returned to your waist, pulling you close to him forcefully.
—If that mummy was not the cause of my death, I am sure that you will be, woman—
I need you, protect yourself (Husband! Ardeth Bay x Wife! Reader PART 1)
Fandom: The Mummy, The Mummy Returns
Since you and your husband returned to London, troubles broke out in your lives and your brother's.
Imhotep had woken up and had everything to gain. You were terrified, your nephew had been kidnapped and these people had no mercy.
Being the wife of the chief of the tribe had not been easy, you were a foreigner, your knowledge had gaps.
But after a considerable time, seeing that you were simply sincere and devoted to the love of Ardeth and the people, you managed to win the affection of most people.
They even shared gun knowledge with you, and you were forever grateful.
Now they were in Ahm Shere, where the plan was as follows.
You, Evie and Jonathan were going to cover for Rick and Ardeth.
And although you insisted on accompanying your brother, your husband flatly forbade it.
"You are my husband, not my father, Ardeth, you cannot order me not to do it"
You said denying, while your slightly wavy hair moved along with the denials you made with your head.
Ardeth understood, you were terrified, and you wanted to fight them, side by side, as you had done since the first time, but he couldn't expose you to more danger, not again.
"I am not asking you as a husband, I am ordering you as the head of the Medjai"
You shook your head, defeated, as a tear pitifully fell from your eyes. Ardeth took you by the cheeks and dried your tears, looking into your eyes.
"I want to go with you..."
Your husband denied.
"I have promised you before, I will come back to you, one way or another, but I will"
A sob escaped from your throat.
"When that damn mummy returns to hell with the Scorpion King, we will return to the village and live in peace, I promise you, my love"
He said, you looked him in the eye.
"Come back, it's a direct order from the wife of the boss"
You said, your husband hastened to kiss your lips. a deep kiss, almost goodbye. He broke away from you with difficulty, before running off so you wouldn't chase him.
"Ardeth!"
You told him with tears in your eyes. You hugged Rick and got ready with Rick and Evie. Oh, thank goodness. When the revolver was leveled at Ardeth's head and a shot rang out, he nearly had a heart attack. But you held Jon so tight when you saw the man go down thanks to his shot.
Well, after that, Rick managed to defeat the Scorpion King, and Izzy found them and rescued them.
Oh how you loved him.
There he was, riding his black horse, smiling at you.
"Izzy, put me down"
The man huffed in annoyance, but at Rick's accusing glare, he did.
Before going down, you looked at your brother with watery eyes and ran to hug him.
"I will miss you so much, Rick..."
Your brother sighed and kissed your head, hugging you.
"We will continue writing to each other, but I hope you come to visit me without a mummy wanting to destroy the world"
You laughed and you separated from his embrace.
You said goodbye to the entire crew and Ardeth got off his horse. You laughed and ran into your husband's arms, uniting them in a hug expected by both.
You got on his horse and hugged his waist throughout the entire ride. And when they got to the village, the celebratory whoops and whistles at the two of you and the army invaded your ears.
Now if you had earned the affection of his family.
Kiss Me Under the Desert Sky (Ardeth Bay x fem!reader)
To read my other works, check my MASTERLIST !
Paring: Ardeth Bay x fem!reader
Universe: The Mummy (1999) / The Mummy Returns (2001)
Word Count: 3671
Requested: Again, no
Warnings: mention of attack on camp, a little bit of exclusion based on nationality.
The phrase in italic at the end means that Ardeth said it in Arabic.
If I forgot about anything feel free to write to me. Your wellbeing is important to me!
Summary: The one where the desert teaches what the real treasures are.
The desert wind carried the scent of dust and myrrh through the camp. Beyond the tents, the dunes rolled toward the horizon in endless, sun-bleached silence. Ardeth Bay stood beside his horse, tightening the saddle straps. He preferred the quiet - the wind, the sand, the weight of a blade at his hip. These things made sense. Orders from Cairo rarely did.
“Still pretending you can outrun your duties, Ardeth?”
The voice came from behind him—warm, amused, with a strong Arabic accent. Ardeth rose, brushing sand from his hands. He turned to face Dr. Terence Bey, who stood with his usual air of calm authority. Dr. Bey’s presence always signaled official business, a reminder of obligations Ardeth would rather avoid. A leather satchel slung across one shoulder, and his red fez on his head.
“I was not aware that I needed to report to the Museum of Antiquities.” Ardeth said evenly.
Dr. Bey smiled, that patient smile that always seemed to see through his irritation. “You do not. But sometimes our goals coincide. As they do now.”
He motioned toward the tent behind him. Inside, a map lay spread over a table—ink marks tracing the edge of the Theban necropolis. Beside it, a small wooden chest sealed with wax. Ardeth’s gaze lingered on it, alert to the tension. The air in the tent seemed heavier, charged with purpose. Ardeth understood the weight of such discoveries and the risk they brought.
“What is this?” he asked quietly.
“An artifact recently uncovered near Dendera,” Bey said. “The seal suggests it predates the Middle Kingdom. I’m sure you remember legends about such objects.”
“Legends of things that should remain buried.” Ardeth frowned.
“Precisely why I asked for your help. You know the price of disturbing the peace of these things. This chest must be escorted to an excavation site near Luxor. There, it will be studied under my supervision.” He paused. “And you will not be traveling alone.”
Ardeth stiffened. “I do not require assistance.”
“It is not assistance,” Bey said, almost apologetically. “It is a company. The daughter of the archaeologist leading the excavation will accompany you. The roads are unsafe, and her father insisted on protection.”
Ardeth’s expression darkened. “You ask me to guard an Englishwoman?”
“I ask you to guard two treasures, Ardeth,” Bey said with a faint, knowing smile. “One made of stone and mystery - and one who insists on wearing lace in the desert.”
The younger man’s jaw tightened. “The desert will teach her humility.”
“I daresay it will,” Bey murmured. “But try not to let it kill her first.”
For a moment, silence settled between them. Then Ardeth inclined his head, reluctantly. “I will see it done.”
“I knew you would.” Bey’s tone softened. “And Ardeth - do try to be civil. She is not her father.”
Ardeth did not answer. He stepped out into the harsh sunlight, the heat wrapping around him like a challenge. Somewhere out there, among the dunes, awaited a foreign girl and a relic that should never have been found. And for reasons he could not name, both already felt like trouble.
-
The caravan waited at the edge of the Nile, where the reeds whispered in the morning wind. Camels grumbled and shifted under the weight of water skins; servants hurried, their shouts carrying over the slap of the river against the dock. Ardeth approached in silence, his dark robes drawing wary glances. His gaze swept over the camp - supplies stacked neatly, chests marked by the Museum of Antiques. He petted the side of his horse, and then he saw her. She stood apart from the bustle, beneath the shade of a wide parasol. She looked around with curious eyes and a polite smile on her lips. The sun caught on her hair and the fabric of her traveling gown, pale linen with delicate lace at the collar, looked absurdly out of place against the sand. When their eyes met, he saw a twinkle in her eyes, and her smile became more trained. She came closer to him.
“You must be Mr. Bay.” She said it, her accent perfectly clear. “Dr. Bey said you would meet us here.”
“Ardeth Bay.” He bowed his head slightly. “You are the daughter of Dr. Wycliffe?”
“Yes, Y/N Wycliffe.” She tilted her head, studying him with more curiosity than caution. “I must say you’re rather younger than I expected.”
Ardeth felt a familiar, sharp tug of irritation at the casual assessment. It was a common failing of the English to judge a man by their own narrow expectations.
“And you,” Ardeth replied, his voice a low, dry murmur that held no hint of warmth. “are exactly as advertised. Too much lace for a desert journey.”
Her smile didn’t flatter; however, the spark in her eyes faded. He didn’t see the blush on her face that he expected. Instead, she gave a small, graceful shrug.
“It is linen, Mr. Bay. And it’s quite comfortable, thank you. The lace is just a small addiction. I must agree that typical English dresses may not be the most practical travel wear…” She stepped closer to his beautiful mare. She reached out a hand, and the horse, surprisingly, lowered her muzzle for a gentle scratch. The young lady smiled at that. “But I was not aware I would be requiring the wardrobe of a warrior.”
Ardeth watched the interaction, the simple, natural grace of her hand on his horse’s soft nose. He felt a flicker of surprise cut through his annoyance. The mare was temperamental with strangers.
“You won’t be. You will be riding in the carriage.”
“I prefer riding on horseback, Mr. Bay. I assure you that the dress won’t be a problem. I’ve ridden since I was a child, and I am quite capable of keeping up.” She said, lifting her chin a little.
“The carriage will be safer.” Ardeth’s gaze snapped from the horse to the woman.
“Probably. But certainly slower and far more dull.” Her tone was light, but there was a stubbornness that he recognized instantly as trouble.
“Your father asked for my protection. Not entertained for you.” Ardeth stated, his voice flat and authoritative. “And that means following my instructions.”
“Dr Bey said that you are one of the most capable people to guarantee protection for the artifact and for me.” She was looking straight into his eyes. “I am not a tourist. I’m here to work. I feel the desert calling me. I want to feel the wind on my face. And to be in Luxor as fast as we can.” He studied her face - the genuine enthusiasm mixed with the frustrating defiance. Ardeth was quiet for a long moment. Doing this the faster way was tempting. He just didn’t know if he would be prepared to listen to all the complaints on the way when she got tired. He sighed, a barely audible expulsion of breath.
“Fine.” The word was clipped and sharp. “You will ride on horseback, Miss Wycliffe. But there will be conditions.”
“And what is that?” Her features brightened, and in her eyes was almost childish eagerness.
“You will ride right beside me or directly behind me. If you slow the pace or cause any trouble, you will be put in that carriage for the remainder of the journey.”
Y/N’s smile was triumphant, dazzling enough to make him regret his agreement instantly. “We have a deal, Mr. Bay.”
-
Not even an hour later, the caravan was in motion. Ardeth led the way, his eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of danger. Directly behind him rode Miss Wycliffe. He expected her to already complain or at least look uncomfortable. Instead, she seemed completely at ease. She looked like she truly understood the horse. She rode not to weary herself nor the animal. The parasol had been discarded in favour of a hat that protected her face from the sun. The thin linen of her dress did not seem to restrict her. She tried to start a conversation a few times, but always met with sharp and short replies or with silence.
The time stretched under the merciful sun. Ardeth raised his hand, signaling a halt. The men began setting up camp - tents, fire pits, and hobbled camels. She dismounted her horse before Ardeth could offer help, landing lightly in the sand. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes bright despite the exhaustion. One of the men came to secure her horse. She sent a grateful smile to one of his men and said “Shukran” with a broken accent. She looked at Ardeth and smiled even more.
“It looks like I didn’t slow us down too much.” He could notice a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“No, you did not. You did well, Miss Wycliffe.” He nodded his head. “You should rest now. The way before us is very long.”
“I would love to help somehow with our camp.”
“There’s no need for that. Our men know their job.” Ardeth gave her one more look and turned his eyes to campside.
“I’m sure they do. This doesn't mean that they need to do this alone. I know how to start a fire without fainting. And I was told that I make excellent tea.” She raised her hand and pointed to the camp kitchen. Her tone wasn’t defensive, just matter-of-fact.
“You’ve done that before?” His brow rose a little.
“My father used to take me on digs in the north.” Her smile became a melancholic, sad one. “He believes that I should know how to manage the simple things. Fire, horses, maps. And languages..” She glanced up at him, the flame catching in her eyes. “Though I’m afraid my Arabic leaves much to be desired.”
“You speak well enough.” He mumbled when they slowly moved to the fireplace, where somebody had prepared places to sit.
“You only heard one word.” She looked up, taking the place, sitting with her back straight.
“Sometimes it is enough. And you will have many possibilities to learn more before we reach Luxor.” They both were given small cups of tea. She gladly drank something warm when the desert around them grew colder.
“This would be perfect.” She looked around with curiosity, and even Ardeth could not notice that. He nodded to himself, watching her carefully.
“If you insist, we will find some work for you, miss. But not tonight. You will be given a task when we are sure that you can manage after the journey. Tonight, focus on resting.”
She looked at him, and her smile grew brighter. “I can do this.” It was like she reminded herself to be a proper English lady and calmed herself a little. “Thank you, Mr. Bay.”
-
Through the next few days, she did everything to not be a burden to the Madjai. She was willing to do every task they have her do, not being afraid of asking for help or how they would do this. She was kind to every one of them, and soon one of the eldest warriors started to treat her like his own daughter. She was no longer a stranger. She took part in the evening storytells. More than once, she made them laugh by trying to speak Arabic with her accent. She treated them as equals, and they treated her the same. The only one that seemed immune to her charm was Ardeth. He always stayed serious and a little off to the side.
One evening, they sat around the firecamp. The wind was getting even heavier. The sand that was getting on her face started to irritate her, but still she didn’t say a word. Ardeth sat next to her when the youngest warrior, Fathi, for whom it was the first mission, came closer. The older Madjai looked at the boy with curiosity.
“Miss…” She looked at him with a kind smile. “It’s for you. It will protect your face from sand better than your hat.” He shyly gave her his reserve scarf. She took it gently, her fingers brushing the young man’s hand.
“Thank you, Fathi!” She said with warmth in her voice. “This is very kind of you.”
Fathi ducked his head, slightly embarrassed, muttering something in Arabic that made the other laugh. She unfolded the scarf. The fabric was soft against her skin and smelled faintly like cedar and smoke. She hesitated, unsure how to wrap it properly. Before she could ask, Ardeth rose to his feet and stepped closer.
“Allow me.” He said quietly. She looked at him in surprise. Seeing the sharp lines of his face made her forget how to breathe for a few seconds. He took the fabric from her hands. With practiced ease, he wrapped it gently around her head and lower face. His movements were precise and never rough. A shiver ran across her skin when she felt his rough, calloused finger touch her cheek. “You need to cover your mouth and nose. The sand carried by wind can cut the skin and fill your lungs.” He met her eyes then.
“Thank you, Mr. Bay. I’ll remember that.” She nodded, her voice was muffled beneath the cloth. And even with her lips covered, he just knew that she was smiling gratefully.
-
The days after settled into a quiet routine. Dawn always found them on horses. She no longer looked out of place. Her laugh became a little light in the darkness of the desert. Even Ardeth found himself looking for her, not only to make sure she was alright.
One evening, something changed on the air. Stillness could be felt all around, and all warriors were on high alert. Even horses and camels looked nervous. Miss Wycliffe watched them all, sitting next to Ardeth. She turned her eyes on him, hoping to calm herself, watching his stoic behavior, but even he seemed to be reacting to that change.
“Mr. Bay… Is something wrong?” She moved a little closer to him, speaking in a low voice. “You all make me uneasy…” He finally looked at her and, for the first time since they met, he noticed a bit of fear in her eyes. Something deep inside him wanted to calm all her worries. He sighed quietly, and his hand found its place on his sword.
“Something is coming… But we don't know what or when.. It’s like the desert sent a warning to our bones…” She notes her lip on his words, her fingers tighten on the cup.
“If it comes…”
“Try to stay behind me. Do what I say. And if I could no longer protect you, stay with our men.” He stopped her quickly, trying to make her not think about what could come. “In the worst case… You know how to survive in the desert well enough to reach Luxor on your own.” She looked down at her fingers, and he could swear he saw tears glisten in her eyes.
“I hope we will never need to try the last options.”
“I hope so too.” He sighed again and refilled her cup with hot tea. He hoped it would bring her at least a little comfort from the dark thought.
-
She woke up, feeling uneasy. She sat on her bedroll and rubbed her eyes. She looked around, noticing two Medjai who kept watch. It took her a few seconds to realize that one of them is Ardeth. She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. She stood up and walked slowly to him.
“You should sleep, Miss.” He said, surprisingly softly, turning to look at her. She sighed, wrapping the blanket tighter around her.
“I couldn't… I don't know if it was because you were so alerted before, or maybe I felt the desert calling too…”
“It’s possible… You spent enough time in the desert to be recognized as its people.” She couldn't help but smile at his words. However, she didn't have time to answer him when they heard a commotion on the other end of the camp. They both looked there, hearing more neighing of horses and loud screams of people. Her heart nearly stopped, and she looked at Ardeth, who was already taking out his sword.
“Stay here!” He said sharply, his eyes never leaving the darkness. Then he was gone, a dark blur swallowed by the storm of sand and flame.
Panic rippled through the camp. Camels screamed. A tent collapsed in a rush of fabric and sparks. She ducked as an arrow whistled past her shoulder, embedding itself in the sand where she’d been standing seconds before. Her breath hitched.
She dropped the blanket and ran - not away, but toward the overturned supply crates. A flash of movement caught her eye - Fathi, struggling to load a rifle with shaking hands. She dropped beside him.
“Give me that!” She said, her voice steadier than she felt. He blinked at her in surprise but obeyed. Her father had taught her to shoot once, in the fields near Oxford. Targets made of bottles and laughter. This was not the same, but her hands remembered.
She took aim, fired once. The shot cracked the air, and one of the raiders fell from his horse. Fathi gaped. She didn’t look at him - she was already reloading.
Through the smoke and chaos, Ardeth saw her. For a heartbeat, disbelief froze him. The Englishwoman - bareheaded now, scarf loose around her neck - was fighting beside his men. He felt the sharp, unwelcome sting of fear in his chest.
He cut down a raider who charged toward her, sand spraying up from the blow.
“Miss Wycliffe!” He shouted. “Get down!”
She dropped to her knees just as his curved blade swept past where her head had been, striking another attacker who had lunged from the shadows. For a moment, silence fell - broken only by the moan of the dying wind.
And then it all ended. The riders started running away, leaving only their dead and the smell of blood and fire. Her hands started shaking when she realized that they were safe now. Her chest was heavy when she lowered the rifle. Ardeth was still before her, the blood and sand visible on his sword. She looked around, trying to notice if all of their men were all right.
“You disobeyed!” Ardeth's voice was sharp like his blade. She looked up at him and rose to her feet, even when she felt them shaking.
“I helped!” She shot back, breathless. “Your men would have been overrun.”
“You could’ve been killed!” He took a few steps closer to her. Their eyes looked. There was anger in his eyes, but also something different that she couldn't name.
“But I wasn’t!” She raised her chin a little, still looking directly in his eyes. She made this decision in a matter of a few seconds. She dropped the rifle from her hand. Make a quick step closer to Ardeth. She took the material of his robe in her hands and brought him closer to her. She didn't think when she rose on her toes and roughly connected their lips. The world around them stopped. All she could feel was the steadiness of his chest against her trembling fingers. And then, to her surprise, she felt his lips moving against hers. His hands found hers, gently helping her to relax her fingers against his chest. Then he wrapped his arms around her, bringing her even closer to him.
For a moment, the world fell utterly still. The sound of the dying fire, the crackle of sand underfoot, even the whisper of the desert wind. It all faded. There was only her, warm and trembling in his arms. Her lips against his, tasting of dust and courage and something that felt achingly alive.
Ardeth didn’t think. For once, he didn’t have to.
He deepened the kiss, his hand rising to cup the back of her neck. His thumb brushed the edge of her jaw. Her breath caught in a soft sound that pulled him closer. The strength that had carried her through the battle now melted into his embrace. Her hands clung to him as if afraid he might vanish back into smoke and legend.
When they finally broke apart, they were both laughing - quietly, breathlessly, in disbelief.
“You are…” He said, his forehead resting against hers. “Completely reckless…” His eyes softened, the harshness gone, replaced by something that almost looked like wonder. “But also… brave. Too brave for your own good.”
Her hands were still fisted in his robe. “You were worried.” She teased, her voice barely above the wind.
“I was.” He admitted without hesitation. “More than I should have been.”
That honesty made her heart twist. She smiled up at him, her cheeks flushed and glowing in the firelight. “Then perhaps,” she said softly, “you should stop trying to be made of stone.”
A hint of laughter escaped him - low, rare, and beautiful. “Stone can still feel the warmth of the sun, Ghalia.” She was watching him with bright eyes, her hand finally relaxed, and she started caressing the fabric of his robe with her thumb.
“What did you just call me?”
He hesitated, then smiled - a real one this time, gentle and unguarded. “Something I probably should not.”
She laughed again, quietly. “Then you must tell me… but tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” He agreed, his thumb brushing away a streak of sand from her cheek. “When the desert is calm.”
She leaned against him then, resting her head against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat was the first peaceful sound she’d heard since the chaos began. Around them, the camp slowly settled back into uneasy sleep, but neither of them moved. They allowed the stars to watch their growing feelings. For the first time, the desert didn't feel lonely. It felt alive. It felt kind. And they only hoped that the ride before them would be the same. Because the hot desert brought them something that was much more worthy than the artifact, and much more ethereal. They found love.
Dictionary:
Shukran - thank you
Ghalia - my precious
Author’s note:
Thank you so much for reading! If it’s not too much trouble, I would love to hear your thoughts about it. Any feedback is greatly appreciated and motivate me to work.
I am sorry about every grammar mistake and misspellings. English is not my first language.
Klaudia 💜
Taglists are always open! If you want to be added fill this up or send me an ask!
Someone was talking at me yesterday about this movie and I was getting riled so I decided to go full rant. Specifically in regards to the feminist podcast that slammed it.
I don't even remember which podcast it was, but I am still rankled and baffled that any "feminism in movies" podcast could jump to anything but "this movie is phenomenal."
First of all, even just discussing the overall quality: sure, it might not have been groundbreaking with its cgi or plot twists. But back in the 90s, that wasn't the standard of measure like it is now (and even now is a shitty standard that needs to die). This movie was light and funny and yet hit all the right beats to maintain the dire stakes needed to make it a compelling action flick.
Its characters are fully realized and entirely distinct from each other. Even those treated with a broader brush, such as the Americans, were charismatic enough that we were fully invested in their fate. The entire cast of characters were real people with real impact and real agency.
The script is quotable and fucking hilarious. There are gems from literally every single character. Rick and Evie have actual chemistry, aided by Rachel Weisz's natural magnetism and Brendan Frasier's career-long knack for acting utterly charmed with his female costars.
Actually, let's talk about Rick O'Connell for a second. This is peak 90s Brendan Frasier. He is absolutely GORGEOUS, suave, and cool, rugged and handsome. He is the epitome of the 1920s adventure hero. Dear god I want to kiss those casting directors. But for all his general peak masculinity? He's feminist as fuck. He is equally dumbstruck by Evie as she is by him, and it's wholly evident that it's more than a "oh no she's hot" thing.
How do we know?
He steals her some tools to dig with. This gift demonstrates that he a) has identified her passion for archaeology, b) has recognized her proficiency in the field, despite it not being explicitly stated on screen, and c) sees a chance to restore her full and active participation in the discovery of Hamunaptra.
There is never a moment where Rick assumes to be the leader of the expedition. He is the weapons expert, the muscle--and he knows it. Better than that, he's totally okay with it. He follows Evie's lead in all things.
Another favorite moment of mine is when they're facing off with the American team on Day 1, and Evie realizes there's a chamber underneath Anubis they could use to excavate the statue. She puts her hand on Rick's arm, looks him in the eye, and says very deliberately "there are other places to dig." And he yields, instantly.
By comparison, see the way the Americans treat their workers and guide.
Does he groan about his work being made exponentially harder as a result? Nope. And that's a recurring theme in his behavior the entire goddamn movie. The only time he is in charge is when a situation is in his wheelhouse-- namely, combat and rescue. And it deserves mentioning that the majority of the time that he's in charge, Evie is not present.
Meanwhile, Evie-- her adventurer's spirit chafing in an academia that dismisses her for her gender-- is an absolute marvel. She is visually coded as being very feminine (she's in dresses and long hair most of the film), but that fact in no way detracts from her competence and agency.
She is consistently protrayed as a fully capable expert in egyptology and there is never a single moment where she waffles on what to do. Even when she's the damsel in distress, she actively makes the choice to be so because she weighs the potential outcomes and decides doing so provides their best chance of success.
Evie is never the passive victim. She is constantly brash, constantly scheming, and saves the lives of her would-be rescuers mid-abduction. And when her brother (who is the failure of the family, against type) needs help with translation, she correctly translates for him while being throttled by a mummified priestess.
When I first saw this film, I was too young to realize how novel it was. Back then, all I knew was that it was just a good time. But now as an adult-- an adult acutely aware of the treatment female characters have gotten in the twenty years since-- I marvel at the respect with which the writers and directors treated Evie.
I marvel at how tender Rick was allowed to be, despite his rugged adventurer archetype.
The Mummy (1999) is peak storytelling. It doesn't try to outsmart the audience, but rather lays out a consistent, coherent narrative that gives the characters and viewers room to breathe. It invests the audience enough to care whether the characters succeed in their goals.
The Mummy (1999) does it right. It's the reason that any talk of the Tom Cruise version gets an immediate eyeroll from me, because whatever modern grimdark grit they shove into a story about a mummy cannot compare to the reliable and timeless entertainment of the 1999 adaptation.
All modern media should aspire to be the kind of film that The Mummy (1999) is.
I think I am officially Fandom Old. I am so worn out from the arguments on who's the top or the bottom (who cares), what is allowed to be written (anything you want, bejeebus), what is Problematic (I know, just tag it), what other people Should Do (they Should live their lives free of judgment). There isn't a Right Way to do things. Tag your stuff appropriately, don't read stuff you don't want to read, and leave other people (me) alone.
There is nothing quite like the freedom of having gone through all of the Discourse and come out the other side into the promised land of Not Giving A Fuck.
oh my god it feels so good. i dont give a fuck what you ship, what your kinks are, what you read, etc. just dont bother people and dont complain about seeing things you dont want to see when they are actively marked as that thing
Doing a final project in my stats class, we have to pick a subject and collect data on it. We need at least 100 data points, and I figured this blog is big enough that a poll on here could get to that pretty easily!
Doing my project on if it’s more likely to be born in certain months :]
I have gotten the OK from my teacher to collect data using a Tumblr poll, btw. I’m also going to have to send her this post as proof of where I got the data from / proof I didn’t just make up the numbers. So. Behave
