My Desert Oasis: Chapter 2
Disclaimer: I do not own AS.
Note: I am sure you have already notice that some of the customs or descriptions of Egypt are out of place. I ask you to kindly ignore those mistakes. I am not writing this story to portray accuracy of Egyptian life. If you are hardcore into Egypt, I apologize for the mistakes. Also, since Mad-Hatter was meant to be female I will refer to her as female. I do not know if the Hatter actually talks like she does below but I will assume she does to keep up her genderless-ness (I do not think this is an actual word) and I believe this way of talking really suits her. This chapter is short because I am a lazy writer but I felt I should update somewhat. So this is what this chapter is for. One last thing, I really suck at describing things.
Enjoy!
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Steam rose gently in calm, little swirls from the heated bath. Michael slowly eased himself into the warm water and let out an appreciative sigh. The pharaoh ordered the weird-looking servant, whose name is Mad-Hatter, to have a bath drawn up for Michael and a room prepared. Then the pharaoh just left without saying a word to him. Not that Michael particularly cared. He just thought it was rude to leave a guest without saying anything. However, when Michael saw the bath he forgot about the rudeness and proceeded to strip naked and take a dip in the water. It felt like heaven. He could not remember the last time he took such a relaxing bath. Actually, he could not even recall the last time he even took a bath. This was a much needed thing, very much needed.
As he leisurely cleaned his body of dirt and sweat, he pondered over what just happened. He still could not believe that Lucifer is the pharaoh, the head honcho of Egypt, the one Egyptians thought to be a descendant of the gods. Holy shit! How did that happen? What were the chances that someone like him would be picked up by the pharaoh himself? Why did he not notice earlier that Lucifer was royalty? He should have at least figured it out when he saw the palace. After all, it is the only palace in Cairo and it is situated at the heart of the city with humongous walls protecting it. Not to mention, they did bypass a bunch of guys with big spears without any problems. Michael sweat dropped. How could he have been so dense? He must have been talking too much to notice.
Whatever, his idiocy was not what matter at the moment. There were other things, like what the hell was a high-class guy like Lucifer doing at a dirty tavern? Why did he dress up like a hobo? Why did he pay for Michael? What was the guy thinking? So many questions swam in his head. Michael made a mental note to ask Lucifer all of them at their next encounter. But wait, could he do that? He was meant to be a slave. Surely he could not just waltz right into the throne room, wherever that was, and demand to talk to the pharaoh. The guards would probably throw spears and what-not at him. That is not good. But who cares, he would cross the bridge when he came to it. Right now he had to get out of the water before he turned into an ugly, shriveled-up raison.
Michael walked into his new, and rather lavish, room drying his hair. He suddenly stopped and stared at the luxurious four-corner bed in the center of the room, up against one of the walls. He took a couple steps backward, closed the bedroom door, and made a mad rush toward the bed. He leaped onto the bed and man did it feel great! The silky sheets were positively divine and the pillows were feather-soft. He removed the towel from his waists and threw it onto the floor. The bed felt marvelous against his naked body. As he lay on the soft bed, holding a fluffy pillow, he scanned his newly given bedroom. The room as a whole was shaped simply like a square. The walls were covered in hieroglyphics, gold, and murals featuring certain gods and the Nile. On the right side of the bed was a huge vanity table with circular mirror that had odd, complex patterns carved into it. On top of the vanity sat a small box filled with kohl, an elegant bottle of perfume to seduce the senses, and an ornately designed box that probably contained jewelry. On the other side of the bed was a short pillar filled with incense of vanilla. Across the bed was a small, comfortable couch where one could casually relax and enjoy some fruits. Accenting the couch was a petite and elegant table. The floor had a plush carpet with animals embroidered on. It was probably imported from India.
However, what Michael liked best was the balcony. He gradually got off the bed and walked onto the balcony. The cool wind of the Egyptian night playfully ruffled his fiery hair. It was so peaceful and calm. He placed his hands on the rims of the balcony and marveled at the night sky. He had never noticed how bright the stars were before. That did not surprise him because in the past he had been too angry to notice them. Being a slave was hell. He hated how people looked down on him, like he wasn't good enough. He hated how people treated him, like an animal. Fuck them. It wasn't like he asked to be made a slave. Fuck them all, those posers that acted higher than him. It pissed him off to no end. But here, now, it was just so tranquil that he quickly forgot his anger.
There suddenly came a quiet knock at the door, "Michael, art thou in there? It is one, Mad-Hatter."
Michael quickly snapped out his relaxing mood and blushed realizing that he was standing outside butt-naked. People could have seen him. He quickly ran inside, "Hang on a sec and I'll get the door."
The red-head scrambled around to find some decent clothing. He abruptly stopped and it dawned on him that there was no closet or drawers or anything that would contain clothing. Crap. He swiftly picked up the once-forgotten towel and tied it around his waist. He cracked the door slightly ajar and peeked out whispering shyly, "Mad-Hatter, I don't have any clothes."
The odd person standing outside his door, with a face dressed up in bizarre make-up, let out a queer, quiet laugh, "Michael, that is why one his here. One has brought thee new clothing, as well as an invitation from one's Master."
Michael promptly grabbed the clothes, slammed the door shut, and proceeded to get dress, "What does he want?"
"My Master wishes for you to have dinner with him." As if on cue, Michael's stomach left out a loud growl. The clown, dressed entirely in black, laughed once more and Michael could feel heat rising to his cheeks. He opened the door saying angrily, "Don't laugh at me. I haven't eaten anything in a long time. It's rude to laugh at a starving person, idiot."
The Hatter merely grinned, "One will take it that thou have accepted the invitation." With a slight bow he continued, "Please forgive one's rudeness and do follow one this way."
As he followed the other red-head, Michael asked, "Hey, why didn't I have any clothing in my room? I nearly had a heart attack trying to find something to wear."
"The Pharaoh did not know what kind of clothing thou preferred. So, one suggested to wait until the next dawn to properly measure thee and have clothing made to thy liking. After that a closet will be placed in thy bedroom and thou will not have to worry about running about in thy birthday suit in search for clothing."
Michael could feel himself blush again, "Oh. Um, why are you doing this?"
"Doing what?"
"The bath, the room, and now the dinner. Why are you people being so nice? Aren't I just a commoner?"
"One merely follows my Master's wishes, nothing more."
"Uh, right." The rest of the way was in silence with Mad-Hatter leading and Michael following. Dressed in a simple clean, white tunic with a gold sash around his slim waist he scanned the insides of his new home. Tall, grand pillars extended vertically upwards to support a magnificently ornate ceiling that gently curved across the palace, shielding the interiors from the night. Each wall he passed held a vivid mural that depicted one of the many scenes from Egypt's rich history. He was so busy admiring the decorativeness and vastness of the pharaoh's palace that he did not notice the Hatter stopping and crashed into the clown. "Sorry. Didn't notice you stopping," he quickly said.
"No worries," the servant replied while bowing and gesturing for Michael to go forward. "My master is waiting for thee."
Michael walked toward the pointed entry way. He could see the silhouette of the pharaoh waiting for him. Gently, he brushed aside the thin, silk curtains that calmly danced to the wind's music. Michael gave a curt greeting, "Evening."
"The night feels wonderful," The pharaoh whispered. Michael stood next to Lucifer, closed his eyes, and lifted his head to feel the mild wind of the desert. It did feel nice. Slowly, he turned and gazed at the man next to him. The man had his eyes closed, still feeling the desert breeze. He wore a calm expression and a small smirk on his beautiful face. Since he wore only a knee-low kilt, Michael could see the well-tone, evenly tanned body and slender legs that Lucifer possessed. The dark-hair man had everything from a six-pack to board shoulders to sexy smirk. To be blunt, Lucifer was hot, very hot.
Michael could feel his cheeks heating up from starring at the gorgeous ruler. Holy crap! The red-head mentally kicked himself. He just thought another man was attractive. Damn it. Since when did he turn gay? Since you saw him, his conscious said. I am not gay, he yelled back at his conscious. Just great, now he's arguing with himself. He could feel himself begin to sweat. Not gay, not gay, not gay, he chanted to himself. A cool hand rested on his shoulder suddenly, "Shall we eat?"
"Ahh!" Michael screamed, nearly jumping out of his skin from the sudden skin contact. "Don't touch me! Um, I mean eat, yeah eat. Let's eat."
Smooth, real smooth he thought as Lucifer lifted a curious eyebrow at him. He shouted angrily, "What? You're the one that scared the shit out of me."
The pharaoh gave a smirk, shrugged his shoulders, and started towards the table laid out with dinner. Michael followed sulking. If I just don't look at him, I won't be able to see how great he looks and won't be distracted. Slowly, he pulled out a chair and quietly sat down looking at anything or anyone but the pharaoh. "Michael."
Michael absentmindedly looked up. Shit.
