One Night in the Hall of the Golden Horus

by Nightsister (sop2nd@yahoo.com )

Archive: M_A

Category: Q/O, AR

Rating: R for language

Warnings: none

Summary: Obisenankhamun is bored. Quirasi's faith is tested. How does one love the living god?

Feedback: sop2nd@yahoo.com

Disclaimer: New names, same people. The original characters belong to Lucasfilm.

Notes: Another Egyptian fic -- I can't get them out of my system, apparently. Once again, my deepest, sincerest apologies to Lynda Robinson, whose sexy Lord Meren is the real Eyes and Ears of Pharaoh.

Thank you: Comtesse de Lapin

It had been a taxing day.

Courtier after courtier had come forth with petitions, or tributes, or entreaties against this or that, while the vizier, Mace, dispensed with them quickly and efficiently. Obisenankhamun, Great Pharaoh of the Upper and Lower lands, had sat upon his gold and ebony chair, looking on imperiously, silently...

Bored out of his mind.

And now, after Ra had sent his chariot far below the horizon, after a dinner of roast fowl, bread, dates, and honeyed pomegranate wine, the king had ceased to be king. Obisenankhamun now sat glumly in the Hall of the Golden Horus, wishing for something, anything, to happen.

He was so bored, he even missed the incessant whining of the Great Royal Wife. Sirimaatamun was in her palace at Amarna, awaiting the birth of their first child, and wouldn't be back for months.

Even the concubines no longer amused him. He wanted more.

And he would get it.

"Penaka."

The fearsome Nubian head of the Royal Guards came forward, slipping out of the shadows where he always waited. "Yes, Majesty."

"Bring me my Eyes and Ears."

Quirasi fought a yawn and smiled thinly at the man standing beside him.

Aminefer was of that age when suitors were starting to vie for her hand, and father and daughter had spent a tiresome evening fighting off the attentions of one Prince Djoser, a vacuous and repulsive, albeit highly connected, noble who could do nothing for a clever-hearted young woman, and proved it with every empty sentence.

During one particularly insufferable instance, when Djoser was regaling his captive audience with a lion hunt story, Aminefer turned and faced her father, silently pleading with her eyes to send the young man away.

Quirasi, his jaw set and eyes hardened, nodded once. It would take every ounce of cunning he had to convince the powerful prince that his daughter would not marry him -- ever.

He slowly, expertly started steering the man toward the door, smiling all the while, although this time, it was the sinister predator's smile reserved for the most obnoxious of courtiers. "She is still a child, my lord," he said calmly.

"That's the perfect time, Lord Quirasi." The prince had the audacity to wink. "Malleable, what?"

Aminefer shot her father an outraged look as she quickly opened the door.

Quirasi gritted his teeth. The son of King Tuyod or no, he would not be insulted by this donkey in his own house. He tried again. "Aminefer runs my household," he said smoothly, like a cobra slicing through the sand. "I have no wife. Perhaps when I remarry-"

But Prince Djoser was just dull-witted enough that he would not give up easily. "Get married soon, then, what? You can't keep her until she's no good-" With that he finally turned away, laughing heartily at his own joke.

Quirasi violently squashed the craving to kick the retreating backside. "I will consider your advice. Good night."

Aminefer, weak with relief, slammed the door shut and nodded to a servant who had been standing by silently, too stunned, or frightened, to speak. "It's all right now, Riva," she said. "Draw my bath -- I need to get the stench of Prince Djoser off my skin." She turned and gave her father a soft peck on the cheek. "Good night, Father. And thank you."

Quirasi was still too angry to say anything but a short, "Good night," before withdrawing to own his room.

After a cooling bath, he lay down on his bed, but found he couldn't sleep. Prince Djoser was powerful, a member of the royal family. Obisenankhamun must never find out about this night -- if he intervened on Quirasi's behalf, rumors would start flying, and that was something even the Eyes and Ears of Pharaoh could not control.

Penaka came for Quirasi just as he was finally about to drift off into sleep.

Slight alarm turned into relief, then annoyance. Tonight, of all nights...

"What does he want with me?" Quirasi asked.

But the question was for naught as Penaka gave an imperceptible shrug. It wasn't his place to say, and they both knew it.

Quirasi sighed and gathered his belt around his linen kilt. He went to his ebony box, preparing to get his court wig and slip on his gold armbands, when the Nubian stopped him.

"Those are not necessary," he said. "Majesty commands you to come as you are."

Quirasi raised an eyebrow, but did as told. "Lead the way, Captain," he sighed again.

Penaka led Quirasi not to the king's private apartments, but to the Great Hall of the Golden Horus. Surprisingly, no one stood guard outside the great double doors.

"This way, please, Lord Quirasi."

Quirasi entered the hall, not knowing what to expect but ready for anything. Obisenankhamun sat at the feet of his throne, waiting patiently.

"Obi?"

"Qui!" Obisenankhamun sprang up, smiling, but the smile soon died on his face. "What troubles your ka, my love?"

"Thy Majesty is wise; it is nothing." Quirasi attempted to smile and let himself be led to the steps leading up to Obisenankhamun's chair. By the gods, but he was tired. "You sent for me?"

Obisenankhamun sat down and patted the space next to him. "Sit."

Taking Quirasi's hand, he noticed the worrying lines marking his lover's face and frowned, the furrows on his own forehead making him seem older than his years. "What is wrong?"

When Obisenankhamun sensed trouble, he was like a hyena tormenting weak prey. Quirasi tried to look as nonchalant as possible. "Truly, it is nothing about which to concern yourself." He leaned in and bravely claimed a kiss. "You wanted me?" he rumbled softy.

"Mmm, always." Obisenankhamun savored Quirasi's lips, but soon broke away. "I was bored. I wanted to play... with you."

Quirasi's smile grew wider as he leaned in further, not allowing the younger man to get away. "And how would you play with me, Obi?"

Obisenankhamun leaned into his lover's waiting arms and grinned. "I was thinking of covering you in gold dust, placing you on my chair, and seating myself on your cock," he whispered.

"Oh, yes... I would like that," Quirasi whispered back. He felt Pharaoh shiver in his arms, and pressed forward. "I am your willing servant."

But Obisenankhamun shook his head. "No. You're not. Not right now. I love you, and I wish to know what troubles you."

Quirasi held back a sigh. "It is nothing. I will not trouble thy Majesty."

"Damn you, Qui!" Obisenankhamun jumped up and strode toward the center of the hall, his gold sandals echoing his every step. "I am not Pharaoh -- not with you. Why can you not understand this?"

"Majesty, I-" Quirasi leaned forward, ready to fall on his knees. Regardless of his own worries, it would not do to anger the king. His king.

"No." Obisenankhamun sprang forward, holding Quirasi still. "You will not be my Eyes and Ears tonight. Do you understand? You are my lover, not my subject."

The look of hurt on the young man's face was a revelation. Quirasi knew Pharaoh better than any other, but this was new. "Majesty, forgive me-"

"Please- I do not wish to be Pharaoh right now! I'm but a man, like you." Obisenankhamun turned, unable to control his feelings. "All day today, I sat, impassive... untouchable," he said slowly. "I thought I could be different with you." He whirled, gray eyes flashing. "Do you not trust me, Qui?"

And that was the question. Quirasi faltered, unable to say what he felt, for he didn't know the answer himself. "My life is in your hands-" he began.

"The lives of all of my subjects are in my hands," Obisenankhamun broke in with a wry smile. "But I don't care about them now. I'm asking you -- do you not trust me?" He gave a small sigh. "You advise me on all matters, great and small. You have for years. And yet you do not allow me to share your burdens."

Obisenankhamun suddenly reached out and gripped Quirasi's large hands, taking them into his own slender, smaller ones. "I know I am Pharaoh," he said, raising blunt fingers to his lips. "I rule the Upper and Lower Lands, but you are my king. Please," he added, caressing his lover's hand with a smooth cheek, "Any of my concubines can satisfy me sexually. You are the only one I want to satisfy. In every way. In all ways."

Quirasi turned, not wanting Pharaoh to see his face. He was aghast -- the most powerful man in the world, the living Son of Horus, debasing himself like a common whore for a simple nobleman? "Obi, you mustn't-"

Obisenankhamun saw the look on the other man's face. "Ah. I see," he said bitterly. "I'm not allowed to articulate my desires -- or does Lord Quirasi forbid me to have them at all?"

"I know all about your desires," Quirasi said, finally snapping. "Am I not here?" Immediately he realized what he had done and fell to his knees, forehead touching the floor. He had spoken out in anger to his king -- the king!-- it was an unconscionable act.

Waiting for Pharaoh to call for Penaka, he only hoped that Obisenankhamun would allow him to see Aminefer one last time. "Majesty... my humblest apologies," he stammered. "Please... forgive me..."

But Obisenankhamun remained silent and only dropped to his knees next to the frightened man. "My love," he said gently, placing a warm hand on his lover's shoulder. "Does this not prove that your ka is sorely troubled?" He urged Quirasi to sit up into a kneeling position. "I'm sorry I treated you like a plaything tonight. I thought I was the only one who had a hard day today. I'm really very sorry."

"I-" Quirasi regarded Obisenankhamun's worried face. For the first time since they had become lovers, Quirasi understood what had changed between them, what they could never regain.

And it was good.

"Prince Djoser has become quite insistent in his pursuit of my daughter Aminefer," he said quietly. "The great King Tuyod was his father -- I fear I don't have the status nor the power to fight him off." He stared at the ground. "Aminefer is my life. I've no desire to see her married to such a man."

Obisenankhamun nodded thoughtfully. "He's a member of the royal family. I can't simply send him away, although I could try-"

"You will do no such thing," Quirasi said sternly, looking up. "Djoser has powerful friends, friends who think that he should be on the throne, instead of you. Any show of weakness on your part-"

"That acting out of love should be seen as a weakness," Obisenankhamun mused sadly, but he quickly straightened and stood up. "I am still Pharaoh," he said, anger coloring his voice. "And I will be damned if that sniveling ass thinks he can frighten me, or coerce you into giving up your daughter. No, it's all right," he said, silencing Quirasi with a hand. "I know what to do."

Quirasi would have felt better had Obisenankhamun taken him into his confidence regarding Djoser, but his ka did feel lighter for sharing his troubles with another. "I'm sorry it took me this long to confide in you, Obi," he said, with sad sincerity. "But I truly did not wish to trouble you with personal affairs."

"You're the only one who makes love to me," Obisenankhamun replied softly. "I want to share your troubles with you. Let me in, Qui." He smiled and held out his hand. "But I think we've had enough excitement for tonight," he said. "You must be as tired as I am. Lie with me, for a little while?"

Quirasi stood and smiled back. "Of course. And I will tell you about my day."

One month later:

Quirasi sat on the throne of the Upper and Lower Lands of Egypt, burnished in gold. Trying not to laugh, he watched as his young lover carefully applied the final bit of gold dust between the toes.

"That was a crafty move, sending Djoser to Horemheb," he said, through still lips.

"The general is one of the few men in Egypt who cares not about court position, or court intrigue," Obisenankhamun replied, intently scrutinizing Quirasi's feet for signs of undusted skin. "I thought that a commission to my army would show Djoser just how highly regarded he is by my royal personage." He looked up, grinning. "They deployed out to the Babylonian border today -- Horemheb believes they could be gone for months. It is a very dangerous business. Anything could happen."

Quirasi shook his head, wincing as sprinkles of gold settled to the floor. "He won't be intentionally harmed, will he?"

Obisenankhamun shrugged. "I don't think so. He is royalty. But General Horemheb doesn't tolerate fools; he will straighten out my wayward brother. Now, no more talk of Djoser," he said, standing up to admire his handiwork.

Quirasi, gleaming with gold dust, sat otherwise naked on the gold and ebony chair. Instead of the rigid stature enforced on the Pharaoh, however, he sat draped over the chair, as if the seat was his: arms casually thrown over the rests; legs spread almost arrogantly; cock achingly hard-

"Obi," he purred. "Come sit on my lap."

Obisenankhamun grinned. "Yes, Majesty."

END