Moral Of The Story

Chapter One

Four years ago.

Layla looked over the water, watching with a sense of tranquillity as the waves washed onto the bank. Marc kept his gaze on her, strumming lightly on his guitar, unable to resist the easy tug on his lips.

It was easy being with her. Easy travelling with her across cities, getting into trouble with the local mercenaries and sharing beds. Whatever moral line he had drawn for himself had blurred into oblivion, and he almost felt guilty for not giving a damn about it.

"It's beautiful." She caught his eyes, noting how they never strayed from hers.

"Yeah," he answered. "Beautiful."

He watched her fluster for a moment, colouring her cheeks. The flames from the campfire lighting the amusement in her eyes. She shook her head a little, as though trying to right her thoughts.

"Didn't know you were so charming," she remarked jokingly.

He bit back a laugh. "I got plenty charm."

"Is that why we're meeting here?" she asked him. He shrugged casually, tugging on his baseball cap. "Perfectly fine for a rendezvous."

She raised her brows enough to hide behind her curls, a wide smile on her lips. "That's what we're calling it?"

Marc laughed, shaking his head. After a moment, the sound of water and crackling fire took over once more. It felt different, he thought. As though the fire that had been ignited within him the moment they met, had slowed into something blissfully sweet. Something that no longer burdened him with guilt, with every look into her eyes.

"Play one more for me." The words broke through his thoughts."What?" She gestured towards the guitar. "You've been writing something new, yeah?"

"I– Yeah, but it's not... Needs practice."

Layla tilted her head, narrowing her eyes at the lie.

He could do it. He could say all the words that had been tripping him up for so long. His fingers plucked on the strings before he could stop himself, his heart thundering against the wood.

"Promise not to laugh?"

"Never," she promised.

Marc hummed as he played the strings. He felt a sense of ease overcome him as he began to sing the words. The melody accompanied with the sound of crackling. The words ever so sweet in the night air, carried into the towards the sounds of waves against the bank. He tried to ignore the creeping nervousness when Layla tapped her fingers against her leg with the beat.

Marc didn't glance at her, and instead focused on the heartfelt words he had been writing for too long. It was easier to hide his gaze with the cap. Nonetheless, Layla watched him with a soft expression, glowing from the flickering fire.

The song came to its end, and he plucked the last few notes hesitantly. He put the guitar down, tugging on his cap awkwardly before pulling it off. The night never felt so empty when the silence took over.

He dared a glance. Layla was biting her lip, a tenderness in her dark eyes.

"It needs practice," Marc explained. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, cringing at himself. "I should've waited–"

"I love you."

The words crashed into him all at once. It almost hurt to hear, as though they were words that weren't meant for him.

"What?"

Layla gazed at him fondly, unfazed by the dazed look her gave her. "You heard me."

The silence was deafening.

Everything he had done from the moment he had met her had been done with hesitation. There was no hesitation as he closed the distance between them to press his lips to hers. She tangled her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer to her. Marc's arm curled around her waist, gently settling the both of them down against the blanket.

He pulled away, looking down at the woman he had fallen for despite all efforts. He placed a delicate hand against her face, his thumb tracing her cheekbone as he took her in.

He knew... He knew where this was going, what she would know – the danger she could be in if he continued down this road. Khonshu was unwilling to pry his talons out his revived corpse and that brought in a world of blood and sleepless nights. What about the person he shared this body with? Would she disappear at the first sign of all his crazy? And that night... What about the goddamn reason he'd found her?

"Hey," she murmured, and he felt his whole word righten itself. She held onto his hand, her fingers curling around his. "You with me?"

The walls that had been closing on him crumbled away. Buried underneath the fluttering in his stomach from being under her gaze.

"For as long as you want me."

She captured his lips once more, smiling into him. He peppered her skin with kisses, the sound of her laughter dancing over the crackle of the fire.

"I love you," he said breathlessly between the kisses. Emphasising the last word with a kiss so pure, he felt his sins wash away with the crash of the waves.

They smiled at each other for a blissful moment, Layla bit her lip and looked away to reorient herself. The sight made Marc's heart flutter as he lied down beside her. They looked up at the dark night.

"So, she started. "Tomorrow, we meet with my contact. She'll take us through to the mortuary temple of Hatshepsut."

"Right. And this Hat pharaoh knew about the scarab?"

She tried not to laugh at his attempt to understand.

"Not exactly. It was said a spell could help someone balance the weighing of their heart, so they could get to the Field of Reeds. Which was their paradise," she clarified. "That spell first appeared during Hatshepsut's reign. They inscribed the spell on a scarab amulet."

"And why aren't we looking into this Hat pharaoh's tomb instead?"

"We don't know where it is. She refurbished her father's tomb and made a chamber for herself. But her body was moved after her nephew's ascension to the throne." She sighed in thought. "It doesn't mean that the Scarab of Ammit will be with Hatshepsut, but it's a good starting point."

Marc was unable to stop himself from watching her as she explained. There was such a brightness to her words, almost child-like wonder. It made his heartache when she stopped.

"Tell me more," he asked.

Layla smiled as she began to describe Hatshepsut's successful reign and how her successor attempted to erase her from history.

The crescent moon hung beautifully in the sky as the stars watched over them. And for the first time, Marc felt he had some control over his life.