Fortune Favors the Free: Another Pyramid
Disclaimer: With the exception of Tauret, all of the characters belong to Disney, Hyperion Theatricals, etc.
It wasn't supposed to happen this way, Radames mused wistfully. How had everything become so distorted?
A servant stepped into his private office, disrupting his thoughts. "More wine, your majesty?" the boy asked. He looked only about fourteen or fifteen, possibly the youngest of his private servants. He always seemed nervous, yet eager to please.
"No thank you, I need to remain sober enough to finish this," Radames answered. On second thought, Radames thought, maybe I should try to be as drunk as possible. After all, the actual document was finished. It lay there on his desk, just a simple, perfectly harmless piece of paper. All that was left was for him to sign it, bringing the order to life.
That was the hard part. But still, he felt guilty about having as much wine as he already drank. If he was going to do this, he might as well feel all the pain. It's what I deserve, Radames thought.
"As you wish, your majesty," the boy stammered.
"Nojen?" Radames called. The boy turned around almost instantaneously. "You've been looking at Minister Ralen's daughter, haven't you?"
The boy turned bright red. "Of course not, your majesty," he half mumbled, half stammered. "I believe she's engaged to one of the noble's son and-"
Radames threw his goblet to the ground. The expensive crystal shattered. He laughed, insanity creeping into his voice. "That's right. Trust me, it's a bad idea to even start. She'll betray you."
"I promise that I won't look at her any more, your Majestry, I-"
"But you will," Radames insisted, playing with the edge of his quill. "And you won't even know what's happening until it's too late."
The boy looked confused, even horrified.
"Get the hell out of here," Radames snapped.
"The glass?" Nojen asked.
"For gods sakes I'm capable of cleaning up my own messes." He picked up a small trinket and hurled it against the wall of the office. It too quickly shattered. By the time Radames looked up again, Nojen had already left.
Radames looked down again at the broken goblet. It was a shame, because there might be a few more drops of wine left. And he shouldn't have yelled at the boy. If this was anyone's fault, it wasn't a child's. He'd have to promote him or somehow make sure that his masters treated him with more respect. He'd feel better if he could apologize, but The Pharaoh never could.
How did I get like this? Radames wondered.
Nothing is an accident…we are free to have it all…
Nothing will happen if I just walk away, Radames thought. Nothing was supposed to happen. In the eyes of the court, Pharaoh Radames would simply be backing down from attacking Nubia, as he had similarly suggested earlier that week not starting up the Babylon campaign. The pacifism unusual for a Pharaoh who was a former soldier, but considering the hardships the country was going through, it was reasonable.
I have to do this, Radames thought. He twisted the quill through his fingers. No, I don't, he thought back. He had spent at least an hour now trapped between those too painfully simple thoughts.
It wasn't supposed to work this way. He had lost Aida, but that sacrifice was supposed to have finally brought peace.
Aida is nothing, the rational part of his mind told him. Just a silly woman who was smart enough to fool an Egyptian, but that was all.
Hell, this argument was pointless now. It would all be over very soon. Aida would be over very soon.
Radames sighed, picking up the quill once more. How the hell did this happen, anyway?
***************
Some time before…
"Do you have any suggestions, Prime Minister?" Radames asked, looking across the Council Table at his father. The map of Babylonia stared at him as ominously as it had at the beginning of the meeting. Three hours of discussion, and still there had been no answer as to what to do with the troops in that area.
Zoser sighed. "If we don't do anything, then the Babylonians will eventually retaliate and all of the work we've done for the last three years will go to waste. It's as simple as that."
Radames clenched his teeth slightly to prevent himself from snapping. Three hours was starting to become a very, very, very long time. "Does the rest of the council have any other suggestions?" There was a slight emphasis on the word "other."
"I agree with your father," said Minister Traken.
There are some quite beautiful women there you'd love to get your hands on, aren't there? Radames thought to himself. He'd seen the previous conquests (or rather had glimpsed them-both Zoser and Traken seemed to have a way of hiding the particularly good looking ones quickly).
"I still say that we don't have the resources to begin the campaign yet," Radames sighed. "Either way nothing good can come of this. We can either waste whatever resources we have in a pointless campaign or we can try to save them and attack later."
A minister on the opposite side of the table whose name Radames couldn't remember whispered into the ear of Minister Ralen. If he kept going like this he would find himself being overruled by the ministers, never a good situation. Press this too hard, and he would find himself in a political bind.
It was true Egypt didn't have the resources to attack anywhere at the moment. There had been slave revolts in several of the provinces. How could they fight a war if labor stopped?
Try as he might, Radames could never completely become a politician in these meetings. He would always return to being a general, and even the daring Captain Radames knew his limits.
But at least they hadn't brought Nubia yet this month. His heart shuttered, and unwilling emotions started to spring to the top. He could stop slaughter in Babylon, but how long could he protect Nubia for?
And when it did become an issue, could he stop himself from continuing the fight?
*************
Thank the gods that was over with, Radames thought to himself as he made his way towards the palace grounds. He had come close several times to simply walking out.
No, Radames thought. He sighed, feeling even more embarrassed even for thinking those things. He was the Pharaoh now, by the gods. He loved Egypt, now more than ever. And if he didn't start acting like the Pharaoh, it would be Egypt that suffered.
Someone was walking beside him. "If I were anyone else I would be surprised that you were in the army six months ago instead of buried in the library with the scribes." Zoser looked less than happy.
"We can't afford to be open, not if Nubia is going to attack," Radames answered curtly, not even looking at his father. "Besides, we have other campaigns right now that look more promising, if you haven't forgotten."
Radames and his father had existed in this awkwardness for months now, ever since their confrontation. Despite the fact that he had pushed his son to be in the army at an early age, Zoser had resented how great a fighter Radames had become. The now prime minister had spent most of his life in politics and had never served. And Radames was much younger, as well. But despite these facts, Zoser hadn't yet given up the resentment of being pushed to the ground by his own son.
A wall had been knocked down that day. Radames had tried so hard previously to tell himself that he loved his father, and that Zoser loved his son in return. Of course, Zoser had never tried to hide his various women from Radames, even when his mother was still alive. Yet they never confronted each other about it, not even the day when his mother stumbled into the court for her last time with her wrists bleeding. Radames never knew how much he resented his father until those words left his mouth that day.
'Radames, you can have your little diversion, but wait until you are wed.'
'Like you did.'
'Your mother never had any complaints.'
'She never had any choice!'
Gods, it had felt so good to finally let it out…
Radames himself felt embarrassed. He was so sure that day that he was going to change everything, and that for the first time in twenty three years he was going to have control over his own life. He had never believed in anything more than he had believed in Aida then.
The meeting after the Nubian king and Aida's escape was one of the worst days in his life. His father was throwing curses around along with every other noble present, but Radames would never forget that sinister smile his father gave him when their eyes met. I told you so, it said.
Privately Radames wished to have nothing to do with his father any more. Unfortunately for them both, their positions had to be filled, and the rest of the court expected them to be on good terms.
"You've turned into a coward, Radames," Zoser said, turning his son's attention back to the present. The use of his first name stung like a sharp edge. Amneris hardly even used it any more.
"And you're still a corrupt politician," Radames answered back. Finally, he had reached the palace's gates. "Good day, Prime Minister."
**************
The pyramid had finally been completed, and The Pharaoh's body was almost done being prepared. Yet despite the fact that the former ruler's body was not yet there, Radames still felt a connection whenever saw the burial site.
At least there was a clear view of the Nile from the top of the palace's wall. Near the shores, Radames could see children playing or helping their parents along the edge. He singled out a boy and a girl. From this distance, they could have easily been himself and Amneris. And that man over there, the one who looked richly adorned, could have been the Pharaoh, ready to throw both children into the river. That thought made Radames chuckle.
Gods, when did I get so old? he found himself wondering. It didn't seem that far away, when Amneris' father was still young, still lively, still alive…
Radames still thought of him as "the Pharaoh" in his mind. But now he himself held that title. None of it seemed real. "The Pharaoh" was supposed to be wise, and more importantly, know how to rule Egypt. Radames always felt out of place when he wore the crown. He was always clean now, but he felt as dirty as the last time he had returned from battle.
Someone was nearby. Radames realized with embarrassment that Amneris was standing not too far away on the right side of the wall (he himself was on the front side), she herself gazing out towards the Nile. He didn't have a complete view of her face, but he could tell nonetheless that she had been crying. Of course she would be here, Radames thought. If he was still feeling the pain of the Pharaoh's death, then she would be even more so.
It was too bad that she didn't seem to be too close to any of her women, because Radames knew how badly his wife needed emotional support in the last few months. On the outside, she was enjoying her new position as queen. Some new seamstress from one of the southern countries had recently come to visit and Amneris was flaunting all of her new fashions. Well, if they could be described that way.
Yet after she left her court, Radames could physically see the excitement drain from her face. She never let her expressions give way to sadness, not in front of him at least. But the still calm on her face broke his heart.
It was no use trying to get through to her. After their argument the night the Pharaoh died, they had given up even squabbling. He always took the floor, she always the bed. The maids were starting to wonder why one always went into the other room to change clothing, so they finally agreed to undress in the same room. It was assumed that both would look the other way.
Maybe it's better than having her fighting all the time, Radames thought. But still, would this go on for all of their lives? If anything they would have to eventually produce a royal heir.
Wonderful, Radames, just use her that way, he thought to himself. Yet it was true. Whenever it came to Amneris, he always had these arguments with himself.
And now she had seen him. A few months ago he might have tried to confront her, even comfort her, but now…
Amneris' eyes met his own. No expression, no pain, nothing. Tears still rolled down her face, but they were as cold as the whiteness of her skin. Without saying another word, she turned around and left.
***************
Amneris usually took half an hour to prepare herself for bed. Radames had started to memorize her habits. He had a feeling that Amneris had done the same for him, because somehow they were both careful to meet as little as possible.
Radames slumped against the wall of the royal corridor. Would anyone really notice if he fell asleep right here? It seemed tempting. He didn't want to enter until he knew his wife was asleep.
He noticed that the door to the old Pharaoh's sickroom was ajar. He peered inside. So finally, they had cleared out the old furnishings (with the exception of the bed itself). Without them, it could have almost been a normal room, but Radames had too many memories of sickness and death in each inch of the floor. It wasn't just because of reasons of disease contamination that he had requested that he and Amneris take their quarters elsewhere.
His legs ached with exhaustion, and it would still be another twenty minutes before he could even try to see if Amneris was asleep. He touched the bed unwillingly at first, and then found himself lying down upon it. Sleep consumed him moments later.
When Radames woke the stars were high in the night's sky. His clothes pressed uncomfortably against his skin, obviously not made for sleeping. He might as well return to his own quarters.
Something cracked against his left boot when he stepped down from the bed. Groggily Radames searched the floor until he found a small trinket no larger than his fist. He recognized the symbol as being Grecian. Of course, it must have belonged to the doctor. The old man was still at court to stay on as his own physician. With any luck Radames wouldn't be on his deathbed any time soon.
Radames had never been able to journey that far to the north, but he had heard fascinating stories about the Greeks. He wished that the doctor's accent wasn't to heavy or he could have probably gotten some more tales out of him.
Radames traced the design on the trinket. It opened with a snap. Startled, Radames almost dropped it to the floor, but somehow he kept it in his hand. Inside, there was a small packet of white powder.
Arsenic.
Author's notes:
Yes, I really am alive! I didn't notice how long it's been since I've updated this 'fic, but I'm back. In order to get some progress done I decided to skip ahead to Radames' part (from now on Aida and Radames' parts will parallel each other, with some stuff about Amneris thrown in the middle).
Next up is the next part of Whispers, then another chapter of this. I really hope it won't take this long. Thanks to Allison, my beta reader, and to the reviewer who offered me a cookie. Still haven't decided if I want the cookie or if I want to be added to the list ^_^
I really love feedback, so please review! (positive and negative, please give me constructive criticism!) And more importantly, it inspires me to get off my butt and write…
Disclaimer: With the exception of Tauret, all of the characters belong to Disney, Hyperion Theatricals, etc.
It wasn't supposed to happen this way, Radames mused wistfully. How had everything become so distorted?
A servant stepped into his private office, disrupting his thoughts. "More wine, your majesty?" the boy asked. He looked only about fourteen or fifteen, possibly the youngest of his private servants. He always seemed nervous, yet eager to please.
"No thank you, I need to remain sober enough to finish this," Radames answered. On second thought, Radames thought, maybe I should try to be as drunk as possible. After all, the actual document was finished. It lay there on his desk, just a simple, perfectly harmless piece of paper. All that was left was for him to sign it, bringing the order to life.
That was the hard part. But still, he felt guilty about having as much wine as he already drank. If he was going to do this, he might as well feel all the pain. It's what I deserve, Radames thought.
"As you wish, your majesty," the boy stammered.
"Nojen?" Radames called. The boy turned around almost instantaneously. "You've been looking at Minister Ralen's daughter, haven't you?"
The boy turned bright red. "Of course not, your majesty," he half mumbled, half stammered. "I believe she's engaged to one of the noble's son and-"
Radames threw his goblet to the ground. The expensive crystal shattered. He laughed, insanity creeping into his voice. "That's right. Trust me, it's a bad idea to even start. She'll betray you."
"I promise that I won't look at her any more, your Majestry, I-"
"But you will," Radames insisted, playing with the edge of his quill. "And you won't even know what's happening until it's too late."
The boy looked confused, even horrified.
"Get the hell out of here," Radames snapped.
"The glass?" Nojen asked.
"For gods sakes I'm capable of cleaning up my own messes." He picked up a small trinket and hurled it against the wall of the office. It too quickly shattered. By the time Radames looked up again, Nojen had already left.
Radames looked down again at the broken goblet. It was a shame, because there might be a few more drops of wine left. And he shouldn't have yelled at the boy. If this was anyone's fault, it wasn't a child's. He'd have to promote him or somehow make sure that his masters treated him with more respect. He'd feel better if he could apologize, but The Pharaoh never could.
How did I get like this? Radames wondered.
Nothing is an accident…we are free to have it all…
Nothing will happen if I just walk away, Radames thought. Nothing was supposed to happen. In the eyes of the court, Pharaoh Radames would simply be backing down from attacking Nubia, as he had similarly suggested earlier that week not starting up the Babylon campaign. The pacifism unusual for a Pharaoh who was a former soldier, but considering the hardships the country was going through, it was reasonable.
I have to do this, Radames thought. He twisted the quill through his fingers. No, I don't, he thought back. He had spent at least an hour now trapped between those too painfully simple thoughts.
It wasn't supposed to work this way. He had lost Aida, but that sacrifice was supposed to have finally brought peace.
Aida is nothing, the rational part of his mind told him. Just a silly woman who was smart enough to fool an Egyptian, but that was all.
Hell, this argument was pointless now. It would all be over very soon. Aida would be over very soon.
Radames sighed, picking up the quill once more. How the hell did this happen, anyway?
***************
Some time before…
"Do you have any suggestions, Prime Minister?" Radames asked, looking across the Council Table at his father. The map of Babylonia stared at him as ominously as it had at the beginning of the meeting. Three hours of discussion, and still there had been no answer as to what to do with the troops in that area.
Zoser sighed. "If we don't do anything, then the Babylonians will eventually retaliate and all of the work we've done for the last three years will go to waste. It's as simple as that."
Radames clenched his teeth slightly to prevent himself from snapping. Three hours was starting to become a very, very, very long time. "Does the rest of the council have any other suggestions?" There was a slight emphasis on the word "other."
"I agree with your father," said Minister Traken.
There are some quite beautiful women there you'd love to get your hands on, aren't there? Radames thought to himself. He'd seen the previous conquests (or rather had glimpsed them-both Zoser and Traken seemed to have a way of hiding the particularly good looking ones quickly).
"I still say that we don't have the resources to begin the campaign yet," Radames sighed. "Either way nothing good can come of this. We can either waste whatever resources we have in a pointless campaign or we can try to save them and attack later."
A minister on the opposite side of the table whose name Radames couldn't remember whispered into the ear of Minister Ralen. If he kept going like this he would find himself being overruled by the ministers, never a good situation. Press this too hard, and he would find himself in a political bind.
It was true Egypt didn't have the resources to attack anywhere at the moment. There had been slave revolts in several of the provinces. How could they fight a war if labor stopped?
Try as he might, Radames could never completely become a politician in these meetings. He would always return to being a general, and even the daring Captain Radames knew his limits.
But at least they hadn't brought Nubia yet this month. His heart shuttered, and unwilling emotions started to spring to the top. He could stop slaughter in Babylon, but how long could he protect Nubia for?
And when it did become an issue, could he stop himself from continuing the fight?
*************
Thank the gods that was over with, Radames thought to himself as he made his way towards the palace grounds. He had come close several times to simply walking out.
No, Radames thought. He sighed, feeling even more embarrassed even for thinking those things. He was the Pharaoh now, by the gods. He loved Egypt, now more than ever. And if he didn't start acting like the Pharaoh, it would be Egypt that suffered.
Someone was walking beside him. "If I were anyone else I would be surprised that you were in the army six months ago instead of buried in the library with the scribes." Zoser looked less than happy.
"We can't afford to be open, not if Nubia is going to attack," Radames answered curtly, not even looking at his father. "Besides, we have other campaigns right now that look more promising, if you haven't forgotten."
Radames and his father had existed in this awkwardness for months now, ever since their confrontation. Despite the fact that he had pushed his son to be in the army at an early age, Zoser had resented how great a fighter Radames had become. The now prime minister had spent most of his life in politics and had never served. And Radames was much younger, as well. But despite these facts, Zoser hadn't yet given up the resentment of being pushed to the ground by his own son.
A wall had been knocked down that day. Radames had tried so hard previously to tell himself that he loved his father, and that Zoser loved his son in return. Of course, Zoser had never tried to hide his various women from Radames, even when his mother was still alive. Yet they never confronted each other about it, not even the day when his mother stumbled into the court for her last time with her wrists bleeding. Radames never knew how much he resented his father until those words left his mouth that day.
'Radames, you can have your little diversion, but wait until you are wed.'
'Like you did.'
'Your mother never had any complaints.'
'She never had any choice!'
Gods, it had felt so good to finally let it out…
Radames himself felt embarrassed. He was so sure that day that he was going to change everything, and that for the first time in twenty three years he was going to have control over his own life. He had never believed in anything more than he had believed in Aida then.
The meeting after the Nubian king and Aida's escape was one of the worst days in his life. His father was throwing curses around along with every other noble present, but Radames would never forget that sinister smile his father gave him when their eyes met. I told you so, it said.
Privately Radames wished to have nothing to do with his father any more. Unfortunately for them both, their positions had to be filled, and the rest of the court expected them to be on good terms.
"You've turned into a coward, Radames," Zoser said, turning his son's attention back to the present. The use of his first name stung like a sharp edge. Amneris hardly even used it any more.
"And you're still a corrupt politician," Radames answered back. Finally, he had reached the palace's gates. "Good day, Prime Minister."
**************
The pyramid had finally been completed, and The Pharaoh's body was almost done being prepared. Yet despite the fact that the former ruler's body was not yet there, Radames still felt a connection whenever saw the burial site.
At least there was a clear view of the Nile from the top of the palace's wall. Near the shores, Radames could see children playing or helping their parents along the edge. He singled out a boy and a girl. From this distance, they could have easily been himself and Amneris. And that man over there, the one who looked richly adorned, could have been the Pharaoh, ready to throw both children into the river. That thought made Radames chuckle.
Gods, when did I get so old? he found himself wondering. It didn't seem that far away, when Amneris' father was still young, still lively, still alive…
Radames still thought of him as "the Pharaoh" in his mind. But now he himself held that title. None of it seemed real. "The Pharaoh" was supposed to be wise, and more importantly, know how to rule Egypt. Radames always felt out of place when he wore the crown. He was always clean now, but he felt as dirty as the last time he had returned from battle.
Someone was nearby. Radames realized with embarrassment that Amneris was standing not too far away on the right side of the wall (he himself was on the front side), she herself gazing out towards the Nile. He didn't have a complete view of her face, but he could tell nonetheless that she had been crying. Of course she would be here, Radames thought. If he was still feeling the pain of the Pharaoh's death, then she would be even more so.
It was too bad that she didn't seem to be too close to any of her women, because Radames knew how badly his wife needed emotional support in the last few months. On the outside, she was enjoying her new position as queen. Some new seamstress from one of the southern countries had recently come to visit and Amneris was flaunting all of her new fashions. Well, if they could be described that way.
Yet after she left her court, Radames could physically see the excitement drain from her face. She never let her expressions give way to sadness, not in front of him at least. But the still calm on her face broke his heart.
It was no use trying to get through to her. After their argument the night the Pharaoh died, they had given up even squabbling. He always took the floor, she always the bed. The maids were starting to wonder why one always went into the other room to change clothing, so they finally agreed to undress in the same room. It was assumed that both would look the other way.
Maybe it's better than having her fighting all the time, Radames thought. But still, would this go on for all of their lives? If anything they would have to eventually produce a royal heir.
Wonderful, Radames, just use her that way, he thought to himself. Yet it was true. Whenever it came to Amneris, he always had these arguments with himself.
And now she had seen him. A few months ago he might have tried to confront her, even comfort her, but now…
Amneris' eyes met his own. No expression, no pain, nothing. Tears still rolled down her face, but they were as cold as the whiteness of her skin. Without saying another word, she turned around and left.
***************
Amneris usually took half an hour to prepare herself for bed. Radames had started to memorize her habits. He had a feeling that Amneris had done the same for him, because somehow they were both careful to meet as little as possible.
Radames slumped against the wall of the royal corridor. Would anyone really notice if he fell asleep right here? It seemed tempting. He didn't want to enter until he knew his wife was asleep.
He noticed that the door to the old Pharaoh's sickroom was ajar. He peered inside. So finally, they had cleared out the old furnishings (with the exception of the bed itself). Without them, it could have almost been a normal room, but Radames had too many memories of sickness and death in each inch of the floor. It wasn't just because of reasons of disease contamination that he had requested that he and Amneris take their quarters elsewhere.
His legs ached with exhaustion, and it would still be another twenty minutes before he could even try to see if Amneris was asleep. He touched the bed unwillingly at first, and then found himself lying down upon it. Sleep consumed him moments later.
When Radames woke the stars were high in the night's sky. His clothes pressed uncomfortably against his skin, obviously not made for sleeping. He might as well return to his own quarters.
Something cracked against his left boot when he stepped down from the bed. Groggily Radames searched the floor until he found a small trinket no larger than his fist. He recognized the symbol as being Grecian. Of course, it must have belonged to the doctor. The old man was still at court to stay on as his own physician. With any luck Radames wouldn't be on his deathbed any time soon.
Radames had never been able to journey that far to the north, but he had heard fascinating stories about the Greeks. He wished that the doctor's accent wasn't to heavy or he could have probably gotten some more tales out of him.
Radames traced the design on the trinket. It opened with a snap. Startled, Radames almost dropped it to the floor, but somehow he kept it in his hand. Inside, there was a small packet of white powder.
Arsenic.
Author's notes:
Yes, I really am alive! I didn't notice how long it's been since I've updated this 'fic, but I'm back. In order to get some progress done I decided to skip ahead to Radames' part (from now on Aida and Radames' parts will parallel each other, with some stuff about Amneris thrown in the middle).
Next up is the next part of Whispers, then another chapter of this. I really hope it won't take this long. Thanks to Allison, my beta reader, and to the reviewer who offered me a cookie. Still haven't decided if I want the cookie or if I want to be added to the list ^_^
I really love feedback, so please review! (positive and negative, please give me constructive criticism!) And more importantly, it inspires me to get off my butt and write…