Part: 2/6
Warning: un-betaed and yaoi innuendoes.
Summary: Hate and fear bred pain and sadness. A banquet went wrong.
A/N: You need certain knowledge about Seth's past to understand his deranged and twisted mind. Yaoi and non-yaoi hints are thrown everywhere so feel free to let your mind roam. When the main pairing comes, it will come.
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Seth had been the only one with will strong enough to withstand the backlash of the summoning of the Blue Eyes. Having initiated into the priesthood when he was ten, he had quickly mastered all kinds of magic and arts of fighting which brought the Hem-Netjer-Tepey position to his hand. Following Lord Akunadin's discipline and teachings, he had chosen the life of a warrior who lived and fought rather than chain himself down in the court as a judge or guardian. With a brilliant mind and seeming inexhaustible strength coupled with his ruthlessness and powerful use of magic, he was invincible. Despite his young age, his advance through the ranks was swift and inevitable, as surely as the sun disk that rose from the horizon.
Seth, however, was always a mystery for he seemed to care not for opulence or fame. He led a celibate, chaste and occupied life with no joy or entertainment of any kind. Often, rounds of numerous military meetings, papyrus work, training, and campaigns seemed to bring him to the brink of collapse, and yet, he stayed through them all, recklessly disregarding for his personal well-being and needs.
He was Hem-Netjer-Tepey Seth.
He was /the/ General.
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Setting his helmet on the desk, Seth processed to take his mail off. After such a long absence, his room remained the same, a moderate space with a closet, two chests, a bed and desk. Different to the simple and unadorned furniture, the room's three walls were intricately carved and painted in silver and blue in the shape of his spirit beasts whose watchful eyes glinted lively at every shift of the light and massive wings encompassed the space.
The event in the morning had been anything but humiliation. First, Mahaado had been forcefully against his action as usual and influenced Per A'a' feeble mind. Shimon had then scorned him in front of the council as if he was a five-year-old and eventually, Per A'a had ordered him to attend the blasted religious ritual while there was endless work to do.
Opening one of the chests filled with dry sand, he plunged his spear inside and rubbed the blood off the metal head. He smoothed and untangled the attached tuft of white fur before wiping the elongate shaft, tracing the slashes and dents, some he remembered so well for they were the remnants of the ferocious Khenet-hennefer who had almost cleaved him into half.
Most did not understood that mercy was not something to bestow upon those who relished the sight of bloodshed, unhesitatingly decapitated the men, raped woman and burnt up their children and villages. Mayhap, he was not any less cold-blooded and inhuman than his enemies, and yet, if the stain on his hands could be exchanged for the peace of Kemet, he would utter no word of grievance or complaint.
He had killed them all, /every single of them/. As the woman and children cried, begged and kissed his feet, he asked himself. 'Could he stand to witness the widows who would weep for their decreased husbands for decades until their bodies withered and no more tears came out?' 'Did he want the children who grew up in spite and bitter, never knowing the safety of a father's protecting arms?' As cruel as it might sound, he had ordered execution for all. There was no regret on his part, nor joy or sadness, only sheer understanding that his own death could not wash away the blood of thousands. He was never feared of death for death was glory -- the delightful outcome of a warrior's life. Still, he did not want its fingers to pull him into the oblivious darkness, not yet... not until the /wish/ was fulfilled.
The spear was set into its respective place in the rack. He turned back and caught his appearance in the mirror opposite. His bangs had grown too long that they covered half of his face, the rest of his hair a tangle that cascaded haphazardly over his shoulders to nearly waist-length. As he brushed his bangs off, he saw a weary and haggard face stare back at him -- one that belonged to a boy who has not yet made transition to a man. The normal bright blue of his eyes seemed to bleach of color, now pale and ghostly with dark circles around them.
Ugly, he thought and reached for his Millennium Rod.
Strands of chestnut hair fell and as he looked at himself, he thought about his mother again.
Buried too deep in his thoughts, he did not notice the knocks on the door until there was footsteps against the floor.
Akunadin seemed frozen on the spot at the sight of him but then shocked his white head and closed the door.
"Seth, you are..." The sentence was trailed off almost shakily with an underlying meaning.
He acknowledged the man's presence. "Lord Akunadin."
The old man nodded but did not reply. He seemed strangely sad and wistful with a ghostly anguish on his face that caused his broad back hunch.
"When I see you like this, the memory of a woman resurfaces."
"Woman is but the fall of men," said he, voicing his honest thoughts. "Great and wise you are to me. Yet, you seem to have fallen into their wicked trap. It is something that I can not comprehend."
"Temptation is something that even the wisest and purest of all cannot resist. It is, however, always a blessing to have someone to hold dear when all is lost. She... was always the strongest and most beautiful of all with hair as long and soft as yours. I do not remember much of her face except the eyes which was always filled with such sadness deeper than the Nile."
The old man sighed and did not speak more.
"My mother used to be a strong and beautiful woman," he added absently.
/Beautiful mother whose gentle embrace would soothe away tears and pain. Everything had been destroyed. He could still see the lecherous faces of the enemies as they burnt his village as clearly as the day it occurred years ago. He had made them pay with their own blood but it was not enough... never enough when his mother was laying on deathbed./
"How is she?"
"She's dead," lied he and returned to the task. This time, he saw his mother in the mirror with dark brown strands falling in her beautiful eyes. He looked for the perpetual gentleness and kindness inside those blue pools and saw none except a chilling coldness that spoke of death.
He blinked. The reflection was of him, harsh, jaded, grim, and stoic; he had possessed none of her beauty. His fingers tightened around the Millennium Rod involuntarily as silence fell over them. There was no more sound except the horrid sound of sharp blade and the fluttering of hair.
"Do you, by any chance, come to bring words?" he asked.
"Ah, yes. There will be a banquet tonight to celebrate the victory. Use not any excuse to not come this time."
Akunadin seemed to know so well his tendency to avoid unnecessary meetings and gatherings unless they involved politics or foreign trade. He had faked sick last time and it was not pretty for Per A'a had been too infuriated that he canceled the feast. If Akunadin had come here to speak of it to him this time, there would be no other options.
"I shall be there," he said and turned back.
The new haircut was completed.
His bangs were still long enough to cover his brow completely. On the back, his hair was quite ragged and tapered because he had trimmed off whatever the dagger could reach. Some of the stray hair were brushed behind his ears to form a relatively acceptable style.
"How do I look, Lord Akunadin?"
"You look very good," said the man with warmth in his voice. "Now, I shall leave you alone to rest and prepare for tonight."
He bowed respectably.
"Seth."
"Yes, Akunadin."
"Be mindful not to wear your armor to the banquet."
That caused him to smile, a genuine one that made him look young and gentle. The smile, however, lasted for only seconds before the cold facade of the General set in.
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The banquet was held in one of the grandest halls of the palace. Thousands of candles were burning, their golden light dancing on rows of columns and flickering on the carvings of Gods and Goddesses on the walls. It was however not a formal feast for there were women scattering among the men. Per A'a Atem was seated at the head table with his harem. The Hem-Netjer-Tepeys, viziers, nobles, scribes, and ladies of the court sat at different tables.
Seth had bathed to wash away the dust and rested before he came. His layered purple robe was low cut, elegantly hugging his body and flowing to the floor, a golden belt around his waist emphasizing his hips and mellowing the color. His sandals were of the same fine material and lined with gold. One of his ankles was adorned with a thin string of silver and on one of his arms was a simple gold band, a reminder of military armbands. His blue earrings brought out the eerie hue of his eyes and complemented the looks.
Akunadin seemed pleased at his appearance and choice of apparel for the man nodded at his sight.
At the beginning of the banquet, Per A'a proclaimed the names of all brave men, praised and rewarded them with lands, servants, cattle and years free of taxes.
Before long, finest dishes were served, slaves and servants in skimpy garments walking around to pour wine. Seth refused to drink any, knowing so well his low tolerance for liquid and the corruption such indulgence might bring. He was, however, not left alone for nobles, priests and scribes gathered around his bench to bribe and ask for favor. At first, he tried to put up with them but after a while, he started glaring with anger. As expected, no one dared to challenge the General's temper.
The music and dancing had started. The mystique and beautiful music of the harps and flutes cascaded, joined and melt with the lively beats of drums, cymbals and tambourines. Dancers in half-transparent clothes were twisting, stamping and hopping to the beats.
It was not until the dancers finished their third dance that Per A'a Atem dismissed them and ordered his people to the dance floor.
/Such a childish action/ he thought as Vizier Shimon muttered something about 'proper behaviors of well-born Kemetians' at the next table. It was unfortunately not the first time Atem decided to do this and they could do naught but resign to the whims of the young Per A'a.
The candles were replaced, most food on tables cleared off to leave mostly drink.
Seth grabbed his sherbet and left to the darkest corner of the room where he stood and quietly observed the mass of people gyrating and bumping against each other.
A golden haired lady in the most revealing formal garment he could ever dream of was approaching him. He looked at her painted lips and dyed hair, quickly going through a mental list of the few women he knew but failing to recall until she introduced herself as Maifetari, sister of Vizier Penahashi.
"Boy General, why are you hiding?" asked she in a cultured voice.
He revolted immediately at the word 'boy' and adverted his eyes but Maifetari apparently was not fazed for she continued teasing him.
"A little too sensitive, are you not? General, why are you so scared?"
He frowned deeply. "Fear is not something I know of. Not even death can dismay me."
Maifetari asserted him for a moment, her lips curved up and then started laughing loud and clear enough to cause some people look back.
"You speak strong words but you look as if you are afraid of everything -- the people around, the shadows, the drink, and even the dance. If you are truly not afraid, I believe you will not mind to come to the dance floor with me."
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Per A'a Atem and Hem-Netjer-Tepey Mahaado were amused at the clumsy dancers as they caught the laugh and spotted Seth. It was a funny sight -- the General blushed furiously as he was literately pulled to the dancing floor by an alluring lady of the court.
"It heartens me to see the General like that."
"This is not considered proper, your Highness," Vizier Shimon who was standing behind Atem insisted.
"Shimon, let forget all etiquette and celebrate in merry!" Atem laughed heartily, disregarding the old man's warning.
The music was grating and quick. Most people were performing badly, not being used to dancing in public. They were quite surprised to see Seth very lovely, light and graceful on his feet. He seemed to flow from the inside out, every move of body accompanied by a swift wave or shift of arm or leg, following the rhythms precisely.
"That indeed interests me. Would you mind to join the dance, Mahaado?" Atem asked.
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Seth was performing some complicated steps. He shifted his left feet and right subsequently, tossed his head and started rotating, one of his arm still linked with Maifetari who was trying to keep up with him.
Although not knowing the dance very well, she knew and memorized the beats and the rapid swings of her hips made up for the rest. He found Maifetari lively and full of energy, strong and exotic, unlike his mother who was always too sad and fragile.
"Something is wrong, is it not?" asked she in concern, quickly noticing his sullenness.
"None that you can do," he replied, the excitement pounding in his heart and ears fading away. He moved and whirled with Mai out of the crowd, hoping for the dance end.
Suddenly, the music slowed down to a melodious and soft tune which he recognized as a love song he liked. Just as he was about to leave, a hand grabbed his waist. He looked up and saw a bearded jaw.
"General Seth!"
"Let me go, Keith," he growled dangerously and narrowed his eyes to slits at the older man.
"Tsk, that is too harsh. Do you indeed wish to deny me a dance?"
The dance had started and people were moving. They collided with a couple of nobles who glared before recognizing and apologizing him.
Keith angled his body and stepped towards. Having no choice, Seth grumpily tilted back, compelled to follow the man's lead. After they finished rotating the dance floor three times, Keith began the conversation in a light humorous voice.
"Young, you are and yet, so great a victory you have attained."
"It is the God's will that I was able to vanquish the enemies," he repeated the sentence that had crossed his lips more than a hundred times.
"There is none that one does without motive. Ungodly, selfish, and geeky men are. What is it that you desire?"
Seth was taken back but his expression was that of stone. "I have but the desire and wish to serve Kemet, the Gods and Per A'a."
Keith sneered. "Everyone sees you as a heartless murderer, plain and simple but I see... something else in your eyes. Hidden so well it is but when being left alone, it would sparkle brilliantly."
He slightly trembled, feeling his shield cracked and penetrated but quickly regaining control of his emotions. Having grown up in the many battles from the many defeats of the enemies, he was not easily intimidated. Keith's hands were grabbing waist a little too hard, obscenely rubbing their hips together. Although feeling irritated and offended, he held back his complaints, not willing to let his physical discomfort to give him the chance to know what the man might and might not know.
"Desire. Insatiable desire that only those who have experienced are capable to detect." The man gave him a toothy grin and yanked his arm hard.
"There is naught. You speak of things I do not know of," replied he with deadly calmness, looking into Keith's gray eyes. He would forgive no one who would interfere in his plan. Murdering someone was not a difficult thing to do, especially when that someone was sexually attracted to him.
"Now, now, don't look at me that way, General." The man released his hips quickly. "I was just joking. Who would put doubt on the relationship between you and someone like Hem-Netjer-Tepey Akunadin?"
He was so relieved that he did not pay attention as the tempos quickened, and once again, there was the change of partners. Keith had turned to a woman on his right. Someone was reaching for him. Gladly, he set his arm on his new partner's and...
... rolled his eyes. Mahaado was also rolling his eyes in front of him. Of all the people, why had he pair with the one he hated most? The Gods must hate him. Seth groaned and almost wished he was back in Keith's searing grasp.
They were in the middle of the circles of dancing bodies that wheeled and spun, accompanied by the vibrant rhythms of the music.
"My pleasure, General Seth," said Mahaado, bowed slightly, and set his other hand on Seth's waist, his feet already moving. Reluctantly, he put his other hand on the man's shoulder and allowed himself to be guided along.
"It is difficult for me to think that you can dance, Mahaado," Seth commented dryly after the other man squared his shoulders, stepped back and steadied himself so that Seth could start a series of dazzling whirl. He half-heartedly noticed that Mahaado was also a remarkable good dancer who shifted with ease to the music.
"Same here. Cannot imagine that someone who is as dry as desert sand knows the dances so well."
"A warrior who does not know the dances will not know how to dance with his sword."
They parted and merged again in union.
"This is more like a dance of the peasants than warriors," Mahaado started talking again.
"I do not know what you are implying."
"So quick to deny your origin, General Seth? Or would I use the title the Khenet-hennefer gives you, 'Devil from Desheret' (1)? You want to destroy anything that reminds you of yourself, do you not? Is that why you slaughtered the women and children? Men who toil daily under the sun with sweat pouring down the earth and still have nothing to eat for days?"
"One knows and does naught except giving vain words and shedding crocodile tears," he snapped back and glared.
Mahaado was glaring back with the same fire and intensity in his eyes, his cold anger dripping in the air like poisonous mist, as clear and visible as his quickening breath. He seemed to have a hard time to mask his anger and Seth believed they would have to fight to death here and then.
"General. Let's not talk more and finish this dance."
The challenge floated along the music and his grip on the man's arm got just a bit tighter.
/Challenge accepted./
The response was, however, startling; he found his body pressed against Mahaado's, one of the man's wiry arms around his waist in a crushing grip. Mahaado's smell, a blend of masculine musk and dark magic that seemed to emit in thin tendrils, was overwhelming all his senses to the degree that he could not breathe. Still, they glided smoothly across the dance floor even the music got quicker and louder.
By the time the dance ended and they walked back, Seth was breathless and so violently sick that he had to grab his partner to stand.
"Excellent performance, Seth, Mahaado," laughed and clapped Per A'a Atem at the head table, seeming drunk.
"Seth, here is one cup as my compliment to your skill in dancing."
He looked slightly ill as Atem offered him a cup of wine but took it and drank off the scorching liquid. It tasted quite bitter for his taste but it strangely relieved some of his discomfort. Atem was pouring two other cups.
"Another cup to celebrate your victory over the enemy. And here, another for saving my soldiers."
Everything was a bit too much for him -- Mahaado, the dancing and the liquid which was setting his stomach on fire and giving him a headache. He should retire to his quarters.
"Will you give me the honor of assisting you in a dance, Seth?" It was Lord Akunadin and since he never denied the old man anything, he accepted.
On the dance floor, Akunadin seemed to stray into a far away world, unknown and sad, one that he could not reach. They moved slow although not any less graceful; Seth was blissfully content to not having to say anything. To him, their dance was not very different from any of their sword dances, always pleasurable and enjoyable.
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"You know that General Seth is too young to drink, your Highness," Mahaado frowned.
"Really? You always treat those younger than you like children," implied Atem and he declined to speak up.
Akunadin and Seth seemed in perfect tranquility and harmony, mentor and apprentice, one old, one young.
"Seth is old enough to have a cohort. In fact, I believe that he needs to satisfy his... frustration. There will be a surprise for him when he returns to his quarters."
"Considering Seth's personality and aversion to women, I do not consider it is wise to..."
"But that is when he is not drunk..."
TBC
(1) 'Desheret' is the 'Red Land' or desert. Egyptians tend to associate the God Seth with red and desert.
A/N: I manage to finish it before my headache kills me. The fic won't be pretty so don't read if you think it will spoil your good mood. I will try to draw a picture for New Year tonight.