Mana scurried across the throne room after the banquet, looking for Atem and Amunet. In her hands, she clutched a small bag of herbs with a note tied to the drawstring. Neferet had given her specific orders to give it to Atem before he and his new wife retired for the night. The old woman was hale, but with the warm summer night and a belly full of food and wine, she'd been one of the first to leave and go to bed. Mana had happily agreed to deliver the small sack to her childhood friend, though what was in the bag she did not know-it hadn't crossed her mind to ask.

So now she rushed to catch up with the prince and his bride before they disappeared completely for the night.

Spotting them by the throne, she called out, "Atem! Amunet! Doooooon't move, I have something from Neferet!" and raced across the room.

Standing beside his son, Akunamonon could hear him mutter under his breath, "Whatever it is, it can't be good."

Panting, Mana skidded to a halt, almost colliding with Atem, who held her steady so she wouldn't fall. "This...for you..." she said through gasps for air. She held up the small bag and placed it in Amunet's outstretched hands. Shaping her lips into an O, she blew out a long stream of air, "I need to get going before Master comes looking for me," she winked, "Isis actually got him to drink a little wine. Who knows what crazy things I'm missing!" And then she was gone, leaving Atem, Amunet, and the pharaoh in the throne room alone. All the other nobles and court officials had left for the night, having said their goodbyes.

Atem and Amunet didn't stay long, either. Since the wedding had been planned so quickly, Amunet was to stay in a spare room in the pharaoh's palace until she was moved to Atem's personal quarters. She had no objection to this, as it meant she had at least one day to come to terms with the fact that she was now a princess of Egypt-and that was certainly a lot to take in. Atem, on the other hand...

He would not rush her, nor would he force her into something she wasn't ready for. She was already afraid of him, being the timid little thing she was, and he did not want to make matters worse. He would wait. Until they were both adults and he was the new pharaoh, if he had to. I will wait, he told himself.

All his logic and reasoning, however, did nothing to quell his hormones.

Moments like this made him wish he wasn't quite as fond of her as he was. Maybe, if he liked her less, or she was some snobbish, rude, spoiled foreign princess, he could bring himself to not care about her desires. Maybe. But then again, his father wouldn't have trusted him with a wife at all had he been able to do that. To put others' needs above his own. It was a moral and unwritten law Akunamonon had personally ingrained into his son. Akunadin called him soft. Shimon called him a wise ruler.

But tonight, the only person's whose opinion mattered to Atem was Amunet's.

Amunet grew more and more anxious as they walked. She wondered what would happen that night. Would things be pleasant? Painful? What if she could not fulfill her duties as a wife? What if she could not please her husband? What if nothing happened at all? For all she knew, he had already deemed her a waste of time and effort, and would seek out a mistress whenever he was ready. If Amunet had voiced her thoughts to Mana, she would have been told countless times of how Atem would never do that. But she had not, and she did not know him well enough to make such a judgement herself.

After what seemed like an eternity, the young couple reached the room Amunet would be staying in that night.

"Well..." she began, "I guess th-this is good night." Damn. She hadn't meant to stutter. It was bad enough he knew how nervous she got around him. No need for him to be reminded of it every time she spoke.

He said nothing, and she took this as a dismissal into the room. As she reached out her hand to push back the curtain, warm and slender fingers lightly grabbed a hold of her wrist. She followed the hand up an arm, over a shoulder, and before she could finish the neck, Atem was gently guiding her away from the room.

"Where," -she paused when she felt a burning in her stomach. Fear?- "are we going, Prince?"

"Atem," he replied.

"...?"

"If you refuse to call me by name throughout our marriage, then, just for tonight, call me 'Atem'," he said.

"A-all right." It wasn't fear, it was excitement.

Years of being the observer had left Amunet unprepared for this night. She had never been a part of those groups of girls, giggling when they described the men they wanted to give themselves to. Her mother had never been the type of woman to give 'the talk.' Amunet had been fine with this, and the life she lived. It had always been one less thing to worry about. No need to look for a husband, if you were your own parents' slave.

However, life never turns out the way you expect it to. Here she was, on her wedding night, being led by her husband to Isis knows where. And she was...excited. She'd be lying if she said she's never thought about it, never wondered. No matter how sheltered, it's impossible for a young woman her age to not-at the very least-hear about sex. Neferet had done her best to teach Amunet what she would need to know, but once she'd gotten the basic concept she could barely handle anything else.

Breaking out of her thoughts, Amunet realized they were in Atem's quarter of the palace. Her knees wobbled a bit, causing her to stumble. Atem wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her. When this did nothing to help her stability, he swept an arm under her legs.

Bridal style, how ironic, he thought. It took all of his willpower to keep a steady pace. He wanted nothing more than to run the rest of the way to his room. Atem was certain that she knew where he was taking her by now, but, even if they did nothing, he wanted her by his side that first night.

They passed by the garden where he had first kissed her. His garden, Amunet realized. She was relieved that a place so familiar would be so close by.

He placed her on her feet outside his curtain-door, allowing her to enter first. Torches burned in all for corners of the room. In the dim light she could just make out scenes from the Nile painted along the walls. A desk for writing was covered in papyrus and small pots of ink. Brushes lay spread in a disorganized array. A chest lay at the foot of the bed-no doubt holding clothes and jewelry. The bed she merely glanced at. She had always found things easier to bear if she didn't completely acknowledge their existence. Perhaps she would wake up and this would all be a dream. She had entered her room and fallen asleep.

But Atem's hands resting on her shoulders were too warm. His breath on her ear was too soft.

Amunet's heart pounded and her mouth went dry. She went from barely breathing to drawing in deep gasps. The room shook slightly and she realized she was trembling. He stripped her of all her jewelry, and then himself. Soon, she only wore her white linen dress, and he wore only his kilt. Even the blue sash and gold belt he often wore to bed were missing. Amunet glanced down at her bare feet. When in the name of Osiris had he taken off her sandals?

Atem led her over to the bed, turning her around and pushing lightly on her shoulders to make her sit. He knelt in front of her, taking her hands into his own. First, he kissed each fingertip. Then he kissed her palms. He sucked gently at the point on her wrist where he could feel her pulse through her skin. He moved on when it was racing to his liking, planting light, airy kisses up her arm.

His young bride remained frozen and tense as he kissed across her collar bone, then back to the base of her neck. Looking up from his position in front of her, he cradled the back of her head in one hand and placed the other in the small of her back. He went back to kissing her, up and over her chin, hovering over her lips. At some point her eyes had closed and her breath came in small, expectant pants.

"If you do not want this," he whispered, "say so now. Because, once I start, I will not be able to bring myself to stop."

He watched as her eyes opened just enough to look at him. They appeared fevered and glazed. Her only answer was to cup his face between her shaking hands and lightly press her lips against his. Atem needed no other encouragement.

He broke away only to lean her back and climb on top of her. With one leg bent at the knee on the bed and the other outretched to keep him balanced, he knew this would not be comfortable for either of them. He quickly scooped her up, without breaking the kiss, so he could place her head on the pillows and her feet at the foot of the bed.

Amunet didn't know what to expect. A thought suddenly crossed her mind. What was in that bag Mana had given them? Lightly cursing her own curiosity, she pushed Atem away long enough to crawl out from under him. She knew she would not be able to focus on her husband until she found out what was in that bag.

She could almost feel the pout on his face as she walked over to where he'd dropped it on the floor. Pulling off the note, she quickly read it by a torch and nearly let the thing fall from her fingers.

The dim light in the room wasn't much, but Amunet's skin was pale enough that Atem could see the blush growing on her face as she read the note. Now he had to read it.

Amunet didn't even move when he plucked the note from her frozen hands. When he read what was written, he understood why.

My Dear Prince,

It is vital that you have this bag of herbs with you when you take little Amunet to bed for the first time. Over the years, I've noticed that certain plants help with certain...things. Such as fertility and..."growth." Remember, it is just as important for her to enjoy this. Simply swallow a pinch of the herbs-make sure she gets some, too-and have at it.

Your Loyal Servant,

Neferet

Amunet stared at him, mortified, as a few chuckles escaped.

She could only watch as he pulled on the drawstring, reached in and pulled out a small amount of the "helpful" herbs Neferet had given them. She could only watch as he tilted his head back, rubbing his fingers together so the small grains and leaves fell into his open mouth. And she could only watch as he pulled out more and, with a small smirk, placed the herbs in her gaping mouth. There was no need to actually swallow. The plants had been ground into a fine enough powder that it dissolved in her mouth.

Atem's amusement grew as her face became a deeper shade of red. He picked her up once again and carried her over to the bed. Her hands were clutching the front of her dress as he laid her down. She was even more tense than before. Atem couldn't resist.

"Hmm," he looked down towards his legs, "I do believe it's working."

And Amunet promptly passed out.

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Amunet woke to the feel of fingers running through her hair. The silence surrounding her told her it was still late at night. No servants were rushing around, preparing for the day. She could sense something large and warm lying across from her, but she was too content to open her eyes. Something small and soft and warm-a pair of lips-pressed against her forehead. She clutched tighter at the blankets wrapped around her. The cotton felt so wonderful against her skin-

Her bare skin.

She was naked.

Atem once again watched in amusement as her eyes flew open and she shot out of bed. Her frantic movements caused her to fall over the side, and he reached for her to help her up, but she quickly stood in a flurry of blankets and blonde hair.

And then she realized: she wasn't the only one without clothes. A silent scream escaped her as her eyes glued onto the prince's naked form. He propped his head up on one hand as he watched her, just as the lion watches a juicy piece of meat he already knows will be his. Amunet dared not look any lower than his face, though she desperately wanted to look away from that conceited smirk.

Horror spread across her features. Not because they were both naked. Not because she had no idea what happened after she had fainted. Not because he was watching her with amusement as she made a fool of herself. Not because he lifted his hand and beckoned her closer. Not because her body did the opposite of what it wanted and obeyed his command. Amunet was full of horror because she knew what was coming.

Even if he had taken his fill while she was passed out-though she doubted his integrity would allow him to do something so dishonorable-it seemed he had made it his personal mission to make sure she enjoyed it as well, whether she wanted to or not.

She didn't look at him as she laid back down beside him. He wrapped an arm around what he assumed was her waist. Still propped up on one arm, Atem looked down at his reluctant wife with a faint smile. She wasn't even blinking.

He began to toy with the edge of the blankets, tugging and pulling and teasing her into thinking he might rip them off at any moment.

"It must be burning up in that little cacoon of yours," he said. His voice was low and huskier than usual. Amunet tried her best not to shiver.

"I-I'm fine," she replied.

He saw it anyway, "On the contrary. I think you look quite cold. And you're even shivering." He slowly began to peel away the layers of blankets that kept her hidden. "Why don't you allow me to warm you, my dear wife?"

The prince pulled away the last of the blankets and Amunet did her best to cover herself. He grabbed her wrists and pulled them away, pinning them on either side of her head as he shifted his body over hers.

"That's no way to get warm," he murmured against her lips.

Amunet squirmed a little when he nipped her ear. She squirmed more as he nipped and licked his way down her neck and chest to her breasts. He moved her hands so they were pinned above her head, using one hand to rub small, soft circles on one while his tongue played with the other. This made her squirm the most. Atem decided he liked making her squirm.

Letting go of her wrists, he hooked his other hand under her leg and wrapped it around his own waist. She gasped as he stroked the sensitive flesh of her thigh, from her knee to her bottom. After he felt he had paid a sufficient amount of attention ot her breasts, he again began his descent of licking and nipping towards her hips, occasionally stroking her side with the hand not occupied with her thigh.

She brought down her arms to cover her chest. Her hands clutched at empty air. She felt as though she had no control of her body as his lips moved lower and lower.

He hooked her other leg over his shoulder, sucking on the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. He felt the shiver wrack her body as he moved closer to her-

Atem awoke with a start. Sweat covered his body and his breath came in gasps. Beside him, Amunet slept peacefully on. He still wore his kilt and she still wore her linen dress. It...had all been a dream...

DAMN IT!

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So...my first attempt at an (almost) lemon. I was going to try actually writing one, but I chickened out at the last minute and made it all a dream. Ain't I a stinker?

Atem: I...hate you.