DISCLAIMER: none of them are mine. sigh. talk to Disney.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: my first AIDAfic! sadly, i do not have this musical memorized, so there may be some small inconsistencies...my apologies in advance.
No Less Elaborate
by kaydee falls
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PART 1: Jackals -- Nehebka
Aida was always the lucky one. She was the princess, the most beautiful, the wisest, the liveliest, the strongest. And everyone loved her for it. We never envied her; we couldn't. Not even I. She was my princess, my mistress, my friend; and I loved her. Was it Aida's fault that we were all captured by the Egyptians? It might have been, but it didn't matter. We still looked up to her as our ideal, our leader, our one hope. Even when the others began to doubt, I continued believing in her, and I encouraged them to do the same. They listened to me, because I would have followed her to the ends of the earth. I would have done anything for her. I loved her.
But I loved him more.
* * * * *
I don't know that I would call it love at first sight -- more of a kinship than a love. But it was certainly at first sight. It was just after we had arrived in Egypt, having been abducted from our home. Slaves. It was a bitter word on my tongue, and I refused to utter it. To admit to my servitude would be to give in to it, and that I could never do.
But whether I admitted it or not, I was a slave. All of us were -- the princess of Nubia's handmaidens and friends. We walked in a sullen line, shackled, being inspected by stone-faced Egyptian guards -- Egyptian filth.
Where are you taking us? I hissed at the soldier beside me.
He backhanded me viciously, and smirked when a muffled cry escaped me. Never question an Egyptian, slave. You're going to the copper mines. He grinned like the jackal he was. You'll learn quick enough there.
Defiantly, I looked away from him. The leader of those jackals, the man who had stolen us from the shores of Nubia, was looking over us, as if he were judging us. His glance was scornful, cruel.
Suddenly, he fixed his cold eyes on the woman in front of me -- Aida. She refused to meet his eyes, proudly pretending to be unaware of his scrutiny. Perhaps that pleased the Jackal, or perhaps he didn't even notice; he chose her all the same, pulling her out of the line. I hardly knew what words, if any, were spoken, so intensely did my hatred of all things Egyptian focus on him.
Then I saw another man, standing behind the Jackal. At once I knew he was different -- he did not look Egyptian, although he was dressed like an Egyptian servant and did not have the air of anger and fear that most slaves had. He seemed familiar to me, somehow. Feeling my gaze upon him, he glanced at me, and his eyes were friendly. Then he noticed the Jackal with Aida, and he stared openly at her. A glimmer of curious recognition played across his face, and I knew he was Nubian.
Someone shoved me, and I stumbled forward. I glanced back at Aida, but it was clear that the Jackal had some other destination in mind for my princess. The other man, the servant, was eying the pair cautiously, as if he did not wish to be seen. I felt a sudden desire to run up and speak to him, but at this moment the Jackal chose to address his soldiers.
Don't take them to the copper mines, he demanded. These are all women -- they wouldn't last a day down there. The guards looked as surprised as I felt. Why should this man care what became of us? The faces of the friendly servant and Aida registered the same shock as the Egyptian Jackal turned back to them.
The soldier holding my arm shrugged, and thrust me in another direction. I threw one look back at my princess -- and the Nubian man. He glanced at me again, and winked. Then he turned back to his study of Aida, and I was left wondering who he was, and why he was dressed as an Egyptian.
Do you have a name? the Jackal asked my mistress, as I was pulled away.
she responded proudly.
The kind-looking servant had clearly put the name to his vague recognition of her face, because he started and burst out with: Your name is Aida? He caught himself instantly, and pulled back, but his eyes shone. It was the last glimpse I had of him then -- the guards led my line of slaves around a corner, and out of sight. Somehow, I wasn't worried that he would tell any of these jackals that they had captured the Nubian princess -- there was something in those mischievous eyes that inspired trust.
Or was I just so desperate for a friendly face in this horrible nation that I would throw my faith away to anyone, like a fool?
* * * * *
That evening, in the slave quarters, I learned that Aida had been given to the Pharaoh's daughter as a gift. The princess Amneris's handmaidens had their own sleeping chamber -- Aida would not be coming here. For that I was grateful. The Nubian princess should not be forced to live in this squalor.
Some of my friends were huddled together, weeping. I sat off by myself, sewing together a few scraps of cloth. I did not see the use of tears. Crying would not free us. Only Aida could do that.
The other slaves were not in such low spirits. A whisper was going around the yard -- Mereb's coming tonight! -- Mereb is bringing us some fruit! This did not comfort the newly-arrived slaves, but many of the others were smiling and joking together. I glared at them. How could they have submitted so thoroughly, to find any joy in this miserable existence of servitude?
A slender figure slipped through the gates to our enclosure, carrying a large basket. someone hissed across the dirt. The figure set his basket on the ground and bowed.
Slaves from all corners of the camp swarmed over to the man, crying out happily. His basket proved to hold several large bunches of grapes, which were swiftly distributed among the Nubians. Everyone began talking at once, and even Aida's former handmaidens left their tearful cluster to partake in the revelry.
Only I hung back, clutching my cloths. I was instinctively mistrustful of anyone who could move freely among the Egyptians. And why should a palace servant care about those worse off? But Mereb was a Nubian name. My curiosity was piqued. Still I waited.
So he came to me. He slipped easily through the throng, and stepped lightly across the dirt. he said. His voice was light, matching his slim frame. I noticed you watching them.
I was startled. Now that I could see his face clearly in the starlight, I recognized him as the servant who had stood with the Jackal and Aida before. He was also younger than I had first thought -- he looked to be about my age, not even twenty years old.
Just now, you mean? I asked, not quite sure what I was saying.
He grinned. That too, he said. But I meant this morning. I noticed you watching Aida and the captain this morning.
I'm her friend, I explained, a little stiffly.
And I am his. He correctly interpreted the horrified look on my face, and hastily stuck out a hand. My name is Mereb.
I clasped it. I swallowed my impulse to demand how he could possibly consider an Egyptian his friend, and forced a smile instead. I'm sorry -- I don't know quite what to say. I'm new to this place.
His eyes glinted with amusement. I guessed as much, he said solemnly. I wanted to vanish. Of course he knew I was a newcomer -- he seemed to know every slave in the enclosure. If you need any help, just ask. I know my way around. He winked at me.
I'll keep that in mind, I replied drily, folding my arms across my chest. How did you come to call the Egyptian Jackal a friend? Slave loyalty?
Mereb's brow furrowed for a moment in his confusion, but then his expression cleared and his grin returned. The Jackal? You mean, Captain Radames? He laughed a little. I should try calling him that, and we'd see how long he'd remain a friend! You know, he added, jumping from one subject to the next, one of the Egyptian gods has the head of a jackal. Anubis.
What is he, the god of death and destruction? I asked bitterly.
Mereb smiled. Not quite. But he does supposedly lead the dead to their final judgment.
I shuddered, remembering my earlier impression of Radames -- the way he looked as though he were judging us. I wouldn't want Captain Jackal passing judgment on me, I said.
He shrugged. He's not that bad. I mean, he is Egyptian, and all that, but deep down inside of him, there is kindness. I just stared at him. He did keep you out of the copper mines, Mereb reminded me. And he saved me from being beaten to death, when I was ten.
I thought you were Nubian, but I must have been mistaken, I said scornfully, turning away and trying to conceal an odd feeling of disappointment. No Nubian would defend an Egyptian. You've become one of them.
No, wait, Nehebka, he said hastily, putting a hand on my arm. I looked up at him, and our eyes met. That was my mistake, looking into his eyes -- I was immediately lost in them. Mereb seemed to be caught by the same strange force that held me. We stood there for a long moment, transfixed and motionless. Then my face went hot, and I looked down. He smiled awkwardly, equally embarrassed. I am Nubian, he said quietly. I only defend an Egyptian in remembrance of a day when he defended me. His voice went hard. But if I had to kill him to get out of here, I would. We owe these people nothing. Still, he added, his tone light again, I would rather go home without killing anyone, if possible.
I nodded. I whispered. You recognized her, I know. She is the only one who could lead us all out of Egypt.
He looked uncertain. So I believed, but she says she can do nothing, that she is only a slave like us.
Once she sees all her people behind her, she will lead us, I replied stubbornly. Mereb...perhaps you can help me. All the slaves here know and like you.
He bows slightly, grinning. Why, thank you.
I'm only flattering you so that you help me, I told him severely, but he caught the glint of amusement in my eyes and shrugged the comment off. I need you to rally the slaves together, tell them that the princess of Nubia is here to save us.
He was already shaking his head. I promised her I would tell no one.
Not even her own people? Fine, then, you need only tell one person. Who has the most authority among the slaves? Tell them, and they will get the word around.
I don't understand why you can't do this yourself.
Because they have no reason to believe me, and the other girls who came with me are too frightened and miserable to support my word. I stared at the ground. And because I'm afraid, too. I don't have the gift to inspire others that Aida has, and I can never find the right words.
And you think I have that gift? Mereb asked me, and something in his tone made my look up at him. His eyes betrayed a wealth of emotion: hope, shyness, a longing for approval, and something else that I could not quite discern.
I hope so, I replied.
He grinned, and the unnamed emotion was gone. I had come to understand that Mereb used his infectious smile as a mask, a means of concealing his true feelings. I wished, suddenly, that I knew what those feelings were -- but I shook off the desire as I felt the half-forgotten fabric in my hand.
Also, could you get me some cloth? I asked, showing him the pathetic scraps I held. Pieces of fabric, any design, and thread. I don't expect miracles, but anything would be appreciated.
I'm sure that the Nubians would all be willing to donate their scraps, and I'll see what I can steal, he said, eying the cloth dubiously. What are you trying to make?
A robe fit for a princess, I responded, smiling.
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okay! one part down, four to go. i hope you like it so far. please review so i know if i should keep going or if i should stop and never write AIDAfic again...