The Arrogance of Love
* Chapter I: Of Schemes and Dreams *
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Disclaimer: The MA chars aren't mine, sadly. Otherwise, they'd
be on the air still. This fic is set in Ancient Egypt prior to
the birth of Rapses, and it is a SLASH story. That means two
characters- Rath and Scarab- are soon to be more than friends.
Don't like it, don't read it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rath sat crosslegged a few feet from the pharoah's throne. His
fingers nimbly guided a fine pen across scroll after scroll of
papyrus as he recorded each word that passed between the Pharoah
and his advisors. The work was monotonous at best, and Rath's
intellect rebelled with each passing moment, demanding release
from this confining task, wanting not to scribe the opinions of
others but to give its own input on the proceedings.
But Rath remained silent. For all that he was an honored scribe
in the court of Amenhotep, Rath was not "qualified" to voice
his thoughts before the pharoah on anything more important than
the supply of papyrus at his side. It did not matter here that
Rath was one of the most powerful magi to walk the sands of
Egypt in years, for the Pharoah's ear had been captured entirely
by another.
This other stood before the pharoah now, spouting news of
developments in Nubia relations with the careful style and tone
that were designed, Rath thought wrily, to prejudice the pharoah
to one course of action favored by the vizier. Amenhotep didn't
seem to notice as he made his declaration, didn't seem to notice
that he was playing right into the vizier's hands. But then,
he never noticed.
Rath set aside his pen gratefully as Amenhotep rose to end the
morning court. Amenhotep did not address Rath, but instead looked
to the vizier. "Scarab, see that my decision is taken to the
troops."
"Of course, my lord Pharoah." The vizier bowed, and Rath's sharp
gaze caught a look of mocking on his face. When Scarab left the
room, Rath followed him with his gaze. If only the vizier would
give him his support, then maybe Rath would no longer be consigned
to these dreary chores any scribe could manage. If only the vizier
would aid him, maybe Rath could serve once more as what his blood
called him to be: a magi.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Scarab sauntered through the halls of the palace with the same
proud arrogance the pharoah himself might have shown. And why
shouldn't he, Scarab thought with a smirk. After all, with all
the power he had over the pharoah, he practically ruled the
kingdom. All that was left to do was cement his control so that
someday he would rule not from the shadows, but from the throne
of the Living Horus.
The soft patter of footsteps behind him caused Scarab to whirl
about, a reprimand on his lips for whatever servant might have
chosen to disturb him.
Instead of a servant, however, Scarab's gaze was met by that of
a scribe- one of the Pharoah's own, from the look of his garb.
Green eyes met his, and Scarab felt a smile reach his lips. Ah
yes, he'd noticed *this* scribe before. Always sticking his
pointy nose where it didn't belong. "What do you want?"
Rath shifted under Scarab's gaze. Much as he hated to admit it,
he felt dwarfed by the power of the vizier. "I wanted to ask...
a favor."
"A favor?" Amusement seeped into his tone. "You, a mere *scribe*,
wish to ask ME a favor?"
Rath backed away involuntarily. Amused or not, there was a
definite threat in Scarab's voice. "Forgive me, lord vizier.
I did not think..." His only thought was to get away as fast as
could be managed.
"Clearly you did not." Scarab chided gently. "Affairs of the state
require my attention right now. Come to my chambers tonight, and
mayhap then I will consider this 'favor' you ask for."
Rath bowed deeply, his tall hat nearly falling from his head.
"Thank you, my lord vizier." He almost ran from the room, feeling
Scarab's gaze follow him out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
* Chapter I: Of Schemes and Dreams *
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Disclaimer: The MA chars aren't mine, sadly. Otherwise, they'd
be on the air still. This fic is set in Ancient Egypt prior to
the birth of Rapses, and it is a SLASH story. That means two
characters- Rath and Scarab- are soon to be more than friends.
Don't like it, don't read it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rath sat crosslegged a few feet from the pharoah's throne. His
fingers nimbly guided a fine pen across scroll after scroll of
papyrus as he recorded each word that passed between the Pharoah
and his advisors. The work was monotonous at best, and Rath's
intellect rebelled with each passing moment, demanding release
from this confining task, wanting not to scribe the opinions of
others but to give its own input on the proceedings.
But Rath remained silent. For all that he was an honored scribe
in the court of Amenhotep, Rath was not "qualified" to voice
his thoughts before the pharoah on anything more important than
the supply of papyrus at his side. It did not matter here that
Rath was one of the most powerful magi to walk the sands of
Egypt in years, for the Pharoah's ear had been captured entirely
by another.
This other stood before the pharoah now, spouting news of
developments in Nubia relations with the careful style and tone
that were designed, Rath thought wrily, to prejudice the pharoah
to one course of action favored by the vizier. Amenhotep didn't
seem to notice as he made his declaration, didn't seem to notice
that he was playing right into the vizier's hands. But then,
he never noticed.
Rath set aside his pen gratefully as Amenhotep rose to end the
morning court. Amenhotep did not address Rath, but instead looked
to the vizier. "Scarab, see that my decision is taken to the
troops."
"Of course, my lord Pharoah." The vizier bowed, and Rath's sharp
gaze caught a look of mocking on his face. When Scarab left the
room, Rath followed him with his gaze. If only the vizier would
give him his support, then maybe Rath would no longer be consigned
to these dreary chores any scribe could manage. If only the vizier
would aid him, maybe Rath could serve once more as what his blood
called him to be: a magi.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Scarab sauntered through the halls of the palace with the same
proud arrogance the pharoah himself might have shown. And why
shouldn't he, Scarab thought with a smirk. After all, with all
the power he had over the pharoah, he practically ruled the
kingdom. All that was left to do was cement his control so that
someday he would rule not from the shadows, but from the throne
of the Living Horus.
The soft patter of footsteps behind him caused Scarab to whirl
about, a reprimand on his lips for whatever servant might have
chosen to disturb him.
Instead of a servant, however, Scarab's gaze was met by that of
a scribe- one of the Pharoah's own, from the look of his garb.
Green eyes met his, and Scarab felt a smile reach his lips. Ah
yes, he'd noticed *this* scribe before. Always sticking his
pointy nose where it didn't belong. "What do you want?"
Rath shifted under Scarab's gaze. Much as he hated to admit it,
he felt dwarfed by the power of the vizier. "I wanted to ask...
a favor."
"A favor?" Amusement seeped into his tone. "You, a mere *scribe*,
wish to ask ME a favor?"
Rath backed away involuntarily. Amused or not, there was a
definite threat in Scarab's voice. "Forgive me, lord vizier.
I did not think..." His only thought was to get away as fast as
could be managed.
"Clearly you did not." Scarab chided gently. "Affairs of the state
require my attention right now. Come to my chambers tonight, and
mayhap then I will consider this 'favor' you ask for."
Rath bowed deeply, his tall hat nearly falling from his head.
"Thank you, my lord vizier." He almost ran from the room, feeling
Scarab's gaze follow him out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~