Summary: Ichigo is the pharaoh of Lower Egypt who has been slighted by the pharaoh of the Upper region, Aizen. In order to curry favor, Pharaoh Aizen offers one of his prized slaves, Grimmjow, whom has said to be one of the most beautiful and possibly sacred as his coloring likens him to water, which is the most sacred element to the Egyptians. Ichigo takes quite a liking to his new slave, especially after he discovers Grimmjow's unbreakable spirit and heart underneath the rough yet beautiful exterior.

Warnings: Historical AU, yaoi, lemon, slavery, violence (this includes a whipping scene, and no not in the fun way.) Oh, and forgive me if this is not entirely historically accurate with timeline and the like (in fact, it probably isn't.) I'm not a huge Ancient Egypt buff.

Sacred - Part I

A Grimmjow/Ichigo set in Ancient Egypt.

Written for SilverEternity

1615 B.C.

The Pharaoh of Lower Egypt's Palace at Giza

Crack.

Grimmjow tightened his hold on the leather straps that were intertwined in his hands and wrapped around his wrists, forcing his hands behind his back and to rest at the base of his spine. He pulled at the binds almost instinctively. It had been so long since he had been tied down like this, made to kneel at the foot of others and feel so absolutely powerless.

Crack.

The only visible sign he was in pain Grimmjow allowed himself was a slight flinch as that hardened leather snapped across the expanse of his broad back. It had been easier to do so after the first one had slashed open his linen tunic and into the first bit of flawless, bronzed skin, now marked with crisscrossed and angry dark pink lines; he now could brace himself for the pain as it came in rhythmic intervals.

Crack.

He winced and bit into his lower lip hard to keep from shouting out as the whip cut into the heavily abused spot right between his shoulder blades. The slight trickle of liquid down his back that followed was definitely not sweat, though he had enough of that running down his face from the sweltering heat.

Crack.

Grimmjow wanted to buckle over and groan as his punishment giver showed no mercy and snapped that whip back down into the same spot. Blood sprayed at the sadistic gesture, falling to stain the white linen that had pooled around his waist. Taking a deep breath, the blue-haired man slitted one eye open to take in his surroundings once more, reminding himself of why he couldn't show weakness.

He was on a raised, wooden platform, along with two others behind him and around the platform were various people who lived in the grand palace at his back, some looking at him with pity as they witnessed someone completely innocent of any wrongdoing made to endure such torture. Most, however, were watching with a perverse glee at seeing the ever unworthy slave that had been treated like royalty so low and in such agony. They only wished that Grimmjow would give in and scream in pain for their entertainment, for it had been so long since a public whipping as their current ruler despised them.

Crack.

Grimmjow felt his breathing begin to quicken but he fought to control it, taking deep, long breaths. He wouldn't show weakness, he wouldn't, he wouldn't. He hadn't lived this long through absolute misery and then be shown kindness for the first time in his twenty years to disgrace that kind person by acting like a pathetic weakling. No, in fact, he would rather that that person never even found out about this.

But it would seem that, again and as it had for all his life, luck evaded him.

When the next blow didn't come, Grimmjow blinked in confusion, looking over the crowd to see their looks of surprise and stricken gasps before, one by one, they began to fall to their knees, hands splayed before them as they buried their faces into the sand. His cyan eyes widened as he realized what such a display could only mean, though he desperately hoped he was wrong.

Working through the searing pain in his back and shoulders as he turned his head to look behind him, Grimmjow took note of the two men that had been behind him the entire time falling to their knees just as the crowd had done, one quaking in fear,...and the one slowly ascending the steps to the platform, looking like the god in human form he truly was.

The Pharaoh of Lower Egypt's bright hair, the exact color of the sun, caught in the light as he finally stepped onto the low structure, a burning rage clear in his dark eyes that none of his subjects had ever seen displayed by their usually irreverent monarch. Grimmjow's chest tightened in both shame and disappointment.

He wasn't supposed to ever see him like this.

"Just what is going on here?" The Pharaoh's controlled voice spoke of his royal upbringing, instilling so much fear into the one individual that had been shaking that he couldn't even speak, the other's expression was blank and he said nothing as well, though it was apparent from the way he avoided looking directly at the orange-haired Pharaoh that he was disturbed by the sudden appearance.

Grimmjow watched with wide eyes as the royal turned his head away from the two others to lock gazes with him, his monarch's coffee-colored eyes softening and the frown marring his handsome face deepening as he took a step forward. The blue-haired slave dropped his gaze to the wooden slats below him, unwilling to stand the humiliation he felt at the direct eye-contact.

It seemed he only caused more trouble for the young man (so young and yet the ruler of an entire country), the one that had shown him a kindness and respect he had never experienced before being 'given' to the Pharaoh months ago. Grimmjow had silently pledged to do whatever he could to repay the other man in any way he could, the man he had come to know not as his ruler, his owner, but Ichigo.

Six Months Earlier

The Pharaoh of Lower Egypt sat in his personal chambers, half-heartedly picking a grape off its stem and popping it into his mouth. It wasn't very sweet and he almost sighed in disappointment before swallowing it. Imported all the way from the lands to the north and they turned out to be nothing more than mediocre. That's the main problem when one can have anything they ever wanted with a snap of their fingers, everything turns out to be less than expected, that's the trade-off.

Needless to say, Ichigo was not at all hoping for his gift to be even the slightest bit entertaining. There was no point in getting all worked up over what would only be another disappointment, but even still he had to wait around for its arrival. Gesturing to one of the woman servants at his side to take the plate of grapes away, he took a deep sip of wine - a much better version of those tasteless things.

Looking out of the window with fawn-brown eyes lined in kohl, he saw that the sun was nearly at the horizon, meaning the day was nearly over and that he had lost his chance to go chariot racing that day. Frowning in displeasure, he drummed his fingers against the armrest of the solid gold throne that had been his father's before him, and his father's, and his father's, and so on until the beginning of civilization.

Out of sheer boredom, he let his gaze roam over the servant girls in the room, all dressed in fine tunics due to his own generosity. He searched their bodies for anything pleasing to the eye and when he found nothing, he looked to the guards at the doors but they were all scarred and beastly-looking. Ichigo sighed again, extremely discontent with the fact he had been waiting for what felt like hours for the traveling party that was to bring him his gift.

If one could even call it that, this gift would most likely only bring him more burden from what he had heard of it.

Last month, Upper Egypt's Pharaoh had failed to control the barbarian gangs that stalked the border for any wandering Lower Egyptian before attacking and taking whatever they could before killing the innocent citizen. Ichigo had had his hands tied as he couldn't step across the boundary line to discipline the ruthless killers and yet the other Pharaoh refused to do a thing about it, instead sending him this gift as penance for all of his slain subjects. It made his blood boil every time he thought on it, so he pushed it aside in order to ponder why the other ruler had sent such a thing as a gift.

Usually they would send each other gold, perfumes, servants by the dozen, imported foods and wine as gifts, to superficially keep the peace between the two parts of the country. But this time the Upper Egyptian Pharaoh had sent a slave as his gift. One, singular male of about twenty years of age according to his letter. To say Ichigo had been underwhelmed would have been an understatement indeed.

The other monarch had gone on to explain how this slave was different from the others and obviously had been touched by the gods, as not only were his eyes blue, but his hair as well. Ichigo had scoffed at that, hoping they didn't try to give him a slave whose hair had been dyed (though he knew of no dye that would turn a man's hair blue.) Apparently his mother had been Hebrew and his father a foreigner from the strange lands to the north, and so he was nothing more than a slave in Upper Egypt, having always belonged to the Pharaoh.

Of course Ichigo was skeptical to believe that a man could be born with both blue eyes and hair, but if it were true, then that supposed slave would've been taken in by a temple in Lower Egypt for certain. Blue is the color of water, like the Nile, and so it is the symbol of life to all Egyptians. To have so much of it in one's body, naturally, would definitely make such a person revered as a priest or possibly even a child of one of the gods.

Ichigo knew this all too well, as it had been cheered throughout the country on the day he was born that his bright orange hair was a sign that he was truly a god in human form, the son of Ra, as it was the exact shade of the sunset sun, when that most holy god died for the night, only to arise again the next morning.

Perhaps, if it were true, the fact that this slave was half-Hebrew and half a strange northern race kept their temples from believing that he was such a thing.

Just as Ichigo was contemplating this, the guards that stood watch at the entryway to his personal chambers suddenly pulled aside the sheer drapery to reveal a small party of one woman and three men behind her, two of them firmly gripping onto the one in between them, as if he might run away. They were all dressed in exquisite finery, despite what must have been a long trip through the desert to get to the palace.

Ichigo deduced that the one being manhandled was his supposed gift, not that he could make out whether or not what he had been told about the slave was true, as there was a cloak wrapped around him, covering most of his head and body. He could only tell the man was tall, taller than him, and had his hands and feet shackled together with heavy, metal chains that noisily dragged across the ground. The pharaoh felt a swell of outrage. He had never been comfortable with people being chained like they were no better than rabid animals and he felt his kohl-lined eyes narrow in displeasure as the two men on either side of the slave forcibly pushed him to his knees and a spark of amusement as it seemed that the man struggled a bit before giving in.

He liked that someone that had been a slave their whole lives could still have such fight left in them. Ichigo had seen what slavery had done to people in a matter of days and yet this slave in front of him, though he could not see his face properly, seemed to not have let twenty years of the lifestyle break his spirit. Yes, he liked that quite a lot.

"Your majesty," the woman in the group greeted in a melodic voice, face to the floor as she knelt in a prostrate position in front of his throne. "We have brought your gift from the great Pharaoh of Upper Egypt, who greatly wishes that it will please you," she said in a well-rehearsed manner, never lifting her eyes from the floor below her.

"Tell your ruler that he has my utmost gratitude," Ichigo said, boredom clear in his tone even as he leaned forward, trying to peer under the cloak for a better glimpse of the man underneath, but he could only see a strong jaw attached to a bronzed neck and collarbone. "I am only wondering if what I have heard about my...gift is true."

"Yes, your majesty. Everything his highness the Pharaoh has told you is true, our ruler speaks no lies," the woman answered, still not moving. Ichigo frowned.

It was time for the truth to come out.

"Show me," he commanded in his most royal tone, the one that made anyone do whatever it was he desired.

"Yes, your majesty," the woman acquiesced, standing from her position on the floor, but still averting her eyes as she brought her hand to pull back the cloak that hid the tribute from view, letting it fall to the floor as the man was fully revealed.

Several stunned gasps rang throughout the chambers, mostly from the servant women, but Ichigo was silent, unsure whether or not to believe the creature he was seeing before him was real.

There was no mistaking that the tousled, uneven hair on the man's head was as blue as the water of the Nile herself, perhaps even bluer. His eyes were slightly darker, thought still undoubtedly an incredibly atmospheric blue that had Ichigo bowing forward to get a closer look even though the orbs held only hatred as they glared up at him. But he found the fierce stare that accompanied the exotic irises only made them even more beautiful.

And yes, there was no mistaking that the man before him was beautiful, even aside from his rare coloring. He had a sharp, straight nose, full lips, perfect cheekbones, a body that was wrapped in just enough sinewy muscle in all the right places and covered in skin that was bronzed to perfection. Ichigo subconsciously licked his lips as he discovered the slave had been dressed in a fine tunic sewn to fit his body and green and blue eye shadow and kohl applied around those enticing eyes in what was an obvious attempt to keep him from looking so...savage. But that was exactly how he looked with that wild, almost hungry look blazing in his cerulean orbs, and chained like an untamed, dangerous animal.

Yes, he looked savagely beautiful.

"Please forgive the gift's behavior, your majesty. He has always been uncivilized, but the great Pharaoh said that he was sure to calm down once taken by someone like yourself," the woman said softly, causing the slave's upper lip to curl into a snarl, exposing straight, white teeth, but he had enough sense not to make a sound.

Taken, hm? Ichigo thought as he tapped a ringed finger to his lips.

"Tell your ruler that I am most pleased with my gift and he has my infinite thanks," he said disinterestedly, waving a hand nonchalantly. And with that minute gesture, the traveling party as well as the servant women and guards exited his personal chambers, leaving him alone with his new gift.

"What is your name?"

When Grimmjow had been told he was going to be given to the Pharaoh of Lower Egypt at first he had been ecstatic at the thought of leaving the blasted place he had been kept as a slave for his entire twenty years of living, worked to the bone every damn day only for the grace of being kept alive.

He had always been treated differently because of his coloring, he knew that. Blue hair and eyes weren't exactly common, but he knew that it meant something to those temple priests and priestesses who eyed him hungrily and reverently every time they saw him, despite the fact that he was considered the lowest form of life there was, a foreign-blooded slave.

He had stupidly allowed himself to think it might be different in this new palace, until one of the high priestesses took it upon herself to explain to him that he would be going to join the Pharaoh's harem and would be expected to share the man's bed. He had nearly passed out at the thought of a man doing that to him, but the priestess had gone on to say it was a great honor and the Pharaoh of Lower Egypt was considered quite handsome and had hair the color of sun (which Grimmjow had doubted, despite his similar predicament.)

So, being the very reckless man he was, he had tried to escape several times. He hadn't really had a plan, only the thought of getting away from these people who were going to make him into some sort of concubine for some prick with a crown on his head. But, it seemed that they had expected this and had thwarted him at every turn.

Grimmjow had even gone so far as to pray to the gods for help, never having done so before as he didn't believe they would pay any attention to someone as low as him. And it seemed he had been right because he been dragged across the desert and dressed in a ridiculous, embroidered tunic that was too long for him and gold bracelets that pinched his skin and painted with that ludicrous eye make-up all the holy people and aristocrats were obsessed over. Then he had been shackled and made to kneel in front of the man, the god in human flesh, he was supposed to 'give' himself to.

Though he had been quite surprised at what the Pharaoh actually looked like.

He was barely a man, and had to be a year or two younger than himself. And it seemed that the rumors about the ruler having locks the color of the sun were true and though it was an unusual sight, it suited the man perfectly, complimenting his light golden skin and dark brown eyes lined with kohl (he was truly the only male Grimmjow had seen pull off the look to that day.) And the orange-haired monarch was dressed for his role, his white tunic falling to his knees and gold bangles and rings and necklaces encrusted with a variety of jewels covering almost every inch of available skin. However, it seemed that he had forgone the traditional Pharaoh crown, wearing nothing upon his head at all.

Not to mention, it looked like from where Grimmjow was kneeling at the throne of the Pharaoh that the other was smaller than him, having a lithe and toned body that looked incredibly...pliable.

He was knocked into reality both by that disturbing last thought and the stern words of the Lower Egyptian Pharaoh.

"I asked you your name."

"Grimmjow,...your majesty, " he answered reluctantly, leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. He didn't want to hear his name on the lips of the man who was going to basically rape him, as he was far from willing even though he had given up on escaping.

For now.

"Grimmjow," the Pharaoh pronounced his name like he was savoring it. "A very strange name, isn't it?"

The blue-haired slave didn't bother to answer the rhetorical question. He knew that it was strange, everything about him was strange. He averted his eyes from the monarch's form, starting to feel a tad bit dizzy at the thought of what he may be forced to do.

"You can stop being so concerned, Grimmjow. I have no interest in taking the unwilling," the Pharaoh said lightly and the slave's bright blue eyes swiveled up to look at him in shock.

"Why not?"

It had always been a problem of his, learning to think before he spoke and to control his mouth when he felt the need to say something. Grimmjow always seemed to dig his own grave and mentally cursed himself for blurting out such a stupid thing. But the Pharaoh just chuckled, obviously amused.

"Because those who are unwilling are either fearful or stupid and I don't wish to bring someone to my bed who are either," he said simply. He seemed to enjoy it when Grimmjow's face flushed red at the insult, biting down hard on his lower lip to keep from saying anything in return. It was somehow so easy to forget that the younger man before him was one of the most powerful people in the entire world.

"Now that that's put to rest, I'll inform you now that I do not own uneducated slaves. Do you know how to read at all?"

To say Grimmjow was dumbfounded would have been quite the understatement and he blinked up at the man on the throne, who rolled his eyes obviously at the slave's inability to answer his simple inquiry.

"I'll take that as a no, and I'll assume that means you have no idea how to write, do arithmetic, or that you even know proper etiquette," the Pharaoh continued on, apparently choosing not to address Grimmjow's confused stare. "The people that live in my home, no matter what status they may have, reflect on me and therefore, all of them must be up to par. You, Grimmjow, will attend tutoring lessons until you are up to par."

The blunette still said nothing, in absolute shock from the words that were coming out of the orange-haired ruler's mouth. Though in the back of his mind there was a great excitement at getting the chance to learn how to read. He had always wanted to do so.

"You will be not be expected to work except for two days out of the week, when you do not have lessons. Is that understood?"

Grimmjow could only nod his head numbly.

He was to attend tutoring and not work save for two days out the week like some kind of noble child? Had the Pharaoh lost his mind to allow such a thing?

"I will have one of our high priestesses explain things further to you. I most likely won't speak with you ever again, Grimmjow, so this is good-bye for now," the monarch gestured to someone behind him and from beyond the translucent drapery around the throne appeared a young woman with hair a shade or two darker than the Pharaoh's and a kind face, obviously the orange-haired man's sister.

Grimmjow felt like he should say something, but he had never been good with words unless he was randomly blurting them out in anger so he only made forbidden eye-contact with the young, handsome Pharaoh, seeing a gleam in those dark brown orbs, before letting himself be led away by the high priestess, who insisted he call her Orihime.

Little did he know it was far from good-bye.

A month had passed since his exotic gift had arrived at the palace and Ichigo was having a hard time forgetting about the blue-haired slave. Those expressive sapphire eyes made their way into his mind whenever it wasn't on politics and ruling his county and sometimes when it was, and that husky, rough velvet voice he had only heard once definitely made its presence known in his dreams, his mind making it say his name over and over.

He tried to sate himself with his usual bedmates and even a few new ones, but he was left unsatisfied. They all looked the same; dark hair, dark eyes, mocha-colored skin, and all he ached for was that blue and bronze that perfectly complimented each other.

It was not right for a mere mortal, a slave no less, to endlessly tempt and haunt him, the Pharaoh and the son of a god. It wasn't right, but it still was and no matter what he did to try and forget the beautiful man, he couldn't.

Ichigo had only seen Grimmjow a handful of times since, though they had never spoken during those times, the ruler pretending as if the blunette wasn't worthy of his attention, even when he had all of it. It was all he could do to keep from commanding Grimmjow into his bed, but he wouldn't do that, couldn't do that. He was no rapist and the other man was clearly not attracted to him, if the anger and that slight hint of fear in his eyes the first time they had met was any clue. Normally, it would have never bothered Ichigo if one so below him couldn't see him in that light, but with Grimmjow it was an endless pest buzzing in the back of his mind.

He walked with four guards behind him (it had taken years to get the head of guard to whittle it down from twelve) down the hallway, playing with a new scythe shaped sword the armory had made for him. They were passing one of the larger rooms that they sometimes supped in when having a small feast when he heard a very familiar voice cry out in frustration.

"This is pointless, I'll never be able to do this stupid stuff!"

Ichigo immediately paused and turned to his left, letting one of the guards lift the drapery out of the way so that he could step into the room.

There was a long table that only two people were seated at, sitting cross-legged at the end. Their very distinct hair colors made them easy to identify. Deep auburn for his sister, the high priestess Orihime, and a striking blue for Grimmjow.

The latter was holding a writing utensil, the brush's ends looking rather frayed as the man had apparently been pressing down too hard as he tried to learn how to properly write hieroglyphics. Ichigo smiled ruefully at the sight, remembering his own difficulties when learning all the slight nuances of the difficult language. Grimmjow's other hand was fisted in his hair as he glared down at the piece of papyrus like if he did it long enough, the thing would catch fire.

"Now Grimmjow, that's not true. Remember what I told you about counting to ten?" Orihime asked, patient as ever. The blunette just nodded in response, but still not taking his fierce glare away from the papyrus. "And remember how you said it helped when those guards were trying to pick a fight with you?"

"Yeah," Grimmjow grunted and Ichigo noticed he relaxed his grip on the writing brush, closing his eyes as his lips moved as he counted to ten silently. A smile broader than one he had had in quite some time appeared on the Pharaoh's face, not being able to help but think that the blue-haired slave was quite adorable when flustered and frustrated like such.

However, one of his more incompetent guards had to ruin the moment, sneezing at the most inopportune time so that both Grimmjow and Orihime both jumped in their seats, the papyrus ink bottle knocked over by one of their hands and the black stuff spilling all over the paper.

Ichigo watched as the high priestess spotted him first, immediately dropping to her knees and sending a look to Grimmjow for him to follow, whom had been formerly staring at the Pharaoh with wide eyes before doing so.

"I see your tutoring is coming along," Ichigo smirked, walking forward and sheathing his sword but not before he caught Grimmjow's almost lustful glance at it before those cyan orbs dropped to the floor once again. The monarch frowned; such a subservient position didn't fit the man even if he was a slave with no birthright at all, and his curiosity was piqued by that obvious want in that glance he had given the sword (and how he wished the blue-eyed man would look at him like that.)

Orihime took it upon herself to answer when Grimmjow remained silent.

"Grimmjow is doing quite well, your majesty," she chirped happily despite her face being not an inch from the floor.

"That's good to hear," Ichigo drawled, his eyes roaming the broad expanse of his exotic slave's back, the short tunic much better suiting him than the long style he had arrived in. Now he could clearly see the strong legs that were just as perfect as the rest of him and that led up to what looked to be the most firm and pert backside he had seen in his young, but experienced, life. A familiar heat started to pool in his lower abdomen and he turned away abruptly. "See that it continues," he addressed to Orihime before stalking out of the large room, feeling those eerily blue eyes on him as he walked away.

He had to find a way to make Grimmjow come to him willingly.

A/N: I finally wrote a badass Ichigo. Yay! But of course, he angsted as always. I'm very sorry to split it into two sections, but it would've been very long otherwise. :) Well, hope you all are enjoying it so far. Stay tuned for the next installment!

Also, if you are going to submit a request, please remember to read all of the rules. Thank you! :D