The Arrogance of Love
* Chapter II: Of Swords and Lust *
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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 walked faster than usual towards his chambers, eager to
retrieve his weapon and join Ja-kal. Since Rath had arrived at
the palace as a scribe, several years ago, Ja-kal had been
training him in swordplay. Rath clung to the lessons, clung
to them because they provided him with a sanity and reality
away from the world of books and figures. But more than that,
they gave him hope- hope that one day he would be more than
just a scribe, that one day he would be a force of power behind
the throne, as Lord Scarab was.
Scarab... now there was a quandry. The vizier had more personal
charisma than any man Rath had ever known, the pharoah and his
high court included. It would be easy to fall in ranks behind
such a man, easy to stand behind him as he ruled a kingdom...
but Rath's desires went far higher than that. If Scarab would
only grant his request, Rath knew what he had to do. If Rath
shadowed Scarab's every move, if he watched his every trick
to gain more favor within the court... then maybe, with time,
Rath could take his place.
Resolved, Rath cast aside his scribe's tunic and pallette and
went to join Ja-kal in the training arena.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Scarab sauntered through the training arena, his keen gaze
evaluating each pair of fighters without interest. Without
interest, that was, until a tall turban was knocked off one
of the combatants heads and went flying, landing in a heap
at Scarab's feet. Reaching down to pick it up instinctively,
Scarab studied the fabric's elegant gold weave. Such a
garment was suitable for a scribe or artisan, not a warrior,
Scarab realized with a frown. He looked around the arena for
the owner, a reprimand on his lips- no *artisans* should be
here on the training ground.
Rath almost blushed as his hair fell into his eyes in an
undignified mess of tangles. It was traditional for scribes
to shave their heads, but he had always been too proud of his
looks to do so and so instead had concealed it under his hat.
Signaling to Ja-kal his desire to have a moment's pause, Rath
pretended not to notice Ja-kal's amusement at his feminine
looks and instead went in search of his hat.
Scarab twirled the hat between his fingers absently, smirking
over at Rath as the scribe approached him. Scarab's eyes
widened appreciatively as Rath drew nearer, for Rath had
disgarded his tunic and Scarab now saw the full of his
exquisite build. Pretending not to notice Scarab's frank
appraisal, Rath came to a halt a few feet from Scarab and
extended his hand for the hat, murmuring respectfully, "If
you please, mi'lord vizier?"
Drawing himself up regally, Scarab asked almost sweetly,
"I thought all of the scribes were to shave their heads in
honor of Thoth, lord of wisdom."
Rath glowered at him silently, his vanity prickling as an
unreasonable fear seized him regarding the loss of his
hair. Maybe others would not see it as important, but to
Rath any changing of his looks in honor of another was an
unbearable shame.
Amused by Rath's lack of composure, Scarab ordered with
a mocking grin, "Kneel, scribe."
Confused but unwilling to jeapordize his standing with
Scarab, Rath dropped to one knee. Scarab slipped the hat
once more over Rath's head, brushing his fingers across
the silky strands of hair as he concealed them once more
from view. "It would certainly be a loss to the world to
destroy such beautiful hair." The words were spoken
quietly, and had all the silly flirtation of a boy trying
to impress his first crush, but for all his usual self
assurance it was all Scarab could manage.
Rath rose once more, startled, and murmured only a formal
thanks as he readied his sword and turned back to Ja-kal,
blushing at his friend's questioning glance. From behind
him, he heard Scarab's mocking voice once more, "Isn't
swordplay a rather unusual hobby for a scribe?"
Looking back at him with a slight smile, Rath replied
softly, "Not for one with ambitions of being more than
a scribe."
Scarab nodded absently, dismissively, and walked away in
silence.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
* Chapter II: Of Swords and Lust *
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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 walked faster than usual towards his chambers, eager to
retrieve his weapon and join Ja-kal. Since Rath had arrived at
the palace as a scribe, several years ago, Ja-kal had been
training him in swordplay. Rath clung to the lessons, clung
to them because they provided him with a sanity and reality
away from the world of books and figures. But more than that,
they gave him hope- hope that one day he would be more than
just a scribe, that one day he would be a force of power behind
the throne, as Lord Scarab was.
Scarab... now there was a quandry. The vizier had more personal
charisma than any man Rath had ever known, the pharoah and his
high court included. It would be easy to fall in ranks behind
such a man, easy to stand behind him as he ruled a kingdom...
but Rath's desires went far higher than that. If Scarab would
only grant his request, Rath knew what he had to do. If Rath
shadowed Scarab's every move, if he watched his every trick
to gain more favor within the court... then maybe, with time,
Rath could take his place.
Resolved, Rath cast aside his scribe's tunic and pallette and
went to join Ja-kal in the training arena.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Scarab sauntered through the training arena, his keen gaze
evaluating each pair of fighters without interest. Without
interest, that was, until a tall turban was knocked off one
of the combatants heads and went flying, landing in a heap
at Scarab's feet. Reaching down to pick it up instinctively,
Scarab studied the fabric's elegant gold weave. Such a
garment was suitable for a scribe or artisan, not a warrior,
Scarab realized with a frown. He looked around the arena for
the owner, a reprimand on his lips- no *artisans* should be
here on the training ground.
Rath almost blushed as his hair fell into his eyes in an
undignified mess of tangles. It was traditional for scribes
to shave their heads, but he had always been too proud of his
looks to do so and so instead had concealed it under his hat.
Signaling to Ja-kal his desire to have a moment's pause, Rath
pretended not to notice Ja-kal's amusement at his feminine
looks and instead went in search of his hat.
Scarab twirled the hat between his fingers absently, smirking
over at Rath as the scribe approached him. Scarab's eyes
widened appreciatively as Rath drew nearer, for Rath had
disgarded his tunic and Scarab now saw the full of his
exquisite build. Pretending not to notice Scarab's frank
appraisal, Rath came to a halt a few feet from Scarab and
extended his hand for the hat, murmuring respectfully, "If
you please, mi'lord vizier?"
Drawing himself up regally, Scarab asked almost sweetly,
"I thought all of the scribes were to shave their heads in
honor of Thoth, lord of wisdom."
Rath glowered at him silently, his vanity prickling as an
unreasonable fear seized him regarding the loss of his
hair. Maybe others would not see it as important, but to
Rath any changing of his looks in honor of another was an
unbearable shame.
Amused by Rath's lack of composure, Scarab ordered with
a mocking grin, "Kneel, scribe."
Confused but unwilling to jeapordize his standing with
Scarab, Rath dropped to one knee. Scarab slipped the hat
once more over Rath's head, brushing his fingers across
the silky strands of hair as he concealed them once more
from view. "It would certainly be a loss to the world to
destroy such beautiful hair." The words were spoken
quietly, and had all the silly flirtation of a boy trying
to impress his first crush, but for all his usual self
assurance it was all Scarab could manage.
Rath rose once more, startled, and murmured only a formal
thanks as he readied his sword and turned back to Ja-kal,
blushing at his friend's questioning glance. From behind
him, he heard Scarab's mocking voice once more, "Isn't
swordplay a rather unusual hobby for a scribe?"
Looking back at him with a slight smile, Rath replied
softly, "Not for one with ambitions of being more than
a scribe."
Scarab nodded absently, dismissively, and walked away in
silence.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~