Tuaten su em Aruf (Adore ye him in his presence)

by Rahalia

ARCHIVE: m_a

CATEGORY: AU

PAIRING: Q/O

RATING: R

WARNINGS: None.

DISCLAIMERS: Mr Lucas' property; I'm just borrowing them. no money: no sue me...

FEEDBACK: Oh yes please!

THANKS: To you lot, and to Ally for starting me off on this.

AN: denotes thought

This was written as a response to Christy's Egyptian AU challenge. Sorry I didn't go more with the Stargate thing, but Ancient Egypt is something of a pet topic of mine and I couldn't resist! [g]

Not easy to convert SW names into Egyptian style. Eyab [Obi-Wan] sounds vaguely Nubian, and Khaem Uast meri Maat Amen [Qui-Gon] is part of the royal name of Rameses IX. Ani was the name of the royal scribe whose papyrus formed the basis of the translation of the Egyptian Book of the Dead. Handy, considering it meant I could also fit in our Ani! ;O)

BTW: (Jeez, my notes are too damn long!) In this fic, Qui and Obi are their usual ages, but I have fast-forwarded Ani to the age of about twenty-two.

Not beta'd - so don't howl "SP!" at me, okeday? groan

Nobody quite knew when Eyab had become the favourite of the Pharaoh. Indeed, few could remember just when the boy had entered into palace life at all. He was young and beautiful, as were all the Pharaoh's favourites, but not one among the palace staff had missed the spark of challenge in the boy's eyes as he accompanied his royal master. Always there, never more than touching distance away, he amused the often tetchy ruler with his breathtaking insolence and cheeky smiles. Many times a comment from him had caused scribes and priests alike to wince and anticipate the lash for that well-honed young body, but always the Pharoah would smile indulgently, sometimes administering a gentle tap with the ceremonial flail but always forgiving.

It was quite beyond any of them as to why. Khaem Uast meri Maat Amen - to give him his full royal title - was a warrior king, a taker of lands, a conqueror of barbarians and a bringer of great wealth to his country. Skilled in the use of a bow, he would hunt frequently along the banks of the Nile; and, ever true, Eyab would be by his side, holding ready for his master the next arrow or the spear for the kill. He would be there in the royal barge when it processed the river, kneeling on a silken cushion at his master's side, catering for his every whim; from food to a tender massage of the feet. He would be there, but less evident, when the Pharoah sat in judgement over his people on the first moon of the month. It was accepted as a given that he was also there in Pharoah's bed at night.

Ani had good reason to dislike Eyab. As Keeper of the Cosmetics he had inherited from his father the sole privilege to decorate the face of his beloved Pharoah, wielding the glass kohl-stick with great gentleness and care as he applied the black powder to those heavy eyes that always seemed to watch his every movement far more than felt comfortable. He had been allowed to remain in the room when the Pharoah was dressed in the golden collars and lapis lazuli necklaces; and as the long black wig was settled onto his head before he was crowned anew each day with the red and white crowns of Upper and Lower Egypt.

All this had been Ani's, until Eyab.

Now, it was Eyab in the room, watching. Eyab whose breath washed softly over the face of his Pharoah as he smudged the kohl under those eyes; those eyes that seemed to watch more closely than when Ani performed the task. Eyab... all was Eyab...

Eyab; with his drowsy eyes of smoky malachite, darkly smudged with kohl, lending him the temptation of a houri...

Eyab; with his sensual mouth, always quick to retort, yet equally swift to soothe and flatter...

Eyab; with his burnt-honey skin, so smooth and soft, a sheen of oil highlighting his long, slender limbs...

Eyab; with his solicitous, yet covetous touch. Fingers like a musician's that played his master with gentle caresses and playful nips...

Eyab; with his incredible presence, his innate sensuality, his unconscious slinking gait and his unsurpassed beauty...

Eyab; with his charm and wit, who twisted the entire court and turned it upon its head regularly with his wonderful, uplifting, beautiful being. Almost everyone loved silver-tongued, smoky-eyed Eyab.

To those who took the fancy to observe, Ani accepted the loss of his position quietly; still attending to the purchasing and mixing of ingredients. The application he left to Eyab, giving the boy a smile that did not reach his eyes as he handed over the kohl-pot and stick when requested. If Eyab bore him any malice for the stony silence he never showed it. He remained calm and cheerful, always having a polite greeting ready, sometimes even a compliment for Ani's own cosmetics, wig or pristine white kilt. A ready smile, a polite bow as the cosmetics were given to him, and Eyab was gone.

To those who bothered to look a little closer and to dig a little deeper, Ani's dark eyes brimmed with resentment. He pounded the powders that little bit harder in the pestle and mortar, blending antimony with oxide of copper and decanting the resultant mix into the thin obsidian pot. But there was never any other outward sign of his bitterness.

This morning, Eyab had complimented him on the exquisite beading in his hair. Through teeth set in a rictus of a smile, Ani had thanked him and held out the kohl-pot to him. A small, sad sigh had been his only reply. Again, he thrust the pot toward Eyab, who reached out for it, his intense eyes seeking Ani's, as if looking for something. Ani didn't meet his questing gaze, merely let the pot go and turned away to his bench, taking up a small bunch of ankham flowers and shredding their heads into the mortar. He pounded them into tiny fragments before pouring in a little oil and mixing them more carefully; aware that Eyab was hovering at his shoulder, watching. Watching! By Seth, that was the final straw!

"You needn't watch me, for I don't intend to let you see how that is made," he snapped, nodding at the kohl-pot.

Eyab turned wide, surprised eyes on him. "I... I merely wanted to see," he mumbled. "The flowers reminded me of the scented oil my master bathes in... I wondered if you made that, because it's wonderful... I was just curious..." His words tailed off and he recoiled slightly at the unbound hatred in Ani's eyes.

"Watch him bathe, do you?" Ani's eyes narrowed. "I'm sure you watch him do many things, ba'a." He watched the boy flinch as he used the pet name he had heard his beloved Pharoah bestow upon him. 'My soul' indeed. This boy has taken over your soul like a fever of the river, my Master. Somebody has to rid you of this fever, to cure you of him...

By mid-morning, Ani had finished his work for the day and was headed for the gardens, there to sit in the shade and contemplate the fish in one of the many palace pools. As he walked past the entrance to the Pharoah's antechamber, he saw the Keepers of the Wig and Crowns waiting outside, clutching their important charges and shuffling impatiently; glancing often at the closed door.

"What is it?" Ani's surprise turned to concern. Why were they not in the room? "Is the Pharoah ill?"

The Keeper of the Wig shook his bejewelled head. "He will have no other in the room while his eyes are being shaded, young Ani," he mumbled. "He says it disrupts the boy's concentration."

I could do that job with my eyes closed and a flurry of servants fussing around my Master... Ani fought down the picture that rose unbidden in his mind; of Eyab straddling his Master's lap, both of them laughing and kissing as the young man applied the heavy kohl around the Pharoah's eyes. A spear of jealousy ran him through, but he merely nodded, battling to keep his bitterness from his voice.

"Perhaps it is best. We wouldn't want the Pharoah to emerge with smudged eyes, would we?" he murmured, bowing politely before returning to his quarters; his mind boiling with thoughts of revenge. There had to be some way, some... cure.

Eyab's surprise was evident when, the next morning, Ani presented him with two pots of kohl and a tentative smile.

"The second is for you," Ani said. "Please forgive my harsh words yesterday; I had been working very late the night before, trying to perfect a new hinna stain for Princess Ankhenesamun."

Eyab smiled, then, and Ani was almost bewitched. It was easy to see how his Master had fallen under the enchantment of this boy: he was beautiful when solemn, but when he smiled... he simply radiated light and happiness. Ani had to shake himself, to loose himself from the grip of this fever that seemed to have infected the entire palace.

"Thank-you," Eyab said softly. "I'm honoured that you have given your time to make this for me, and I shall wear it from tomorrow."

Ani watched him leave; the graceful, slender hips swaying beneath the short white kilt, the black wig caressing the caramel-toned shoulders. He shook himself again, reminding himself that he hated Eyab.

You will wear it, my friend... but not for long

The doors were opened for him, and Eyab walked slowly into the sunlit room, bent almost double in a deep bow of respect, intoning as he went: "Beneficent god, Lord of the Two Lands, Lord of Crowns, Khaem Uast meri Maat Amen, giver of life forever..."

At this last word the doors were closed behind him and he allowed a smile to flicker across his lips as he straightened. "If you add any more titles I will be well into the gardens by the time I'm finished!" he grinned.

Low laughter greeted him. "Good morning, my pretty one. The dawn is past, what kept you?"

Eyab ducked his head, then looked up through long lashes. "My hair was a mess," he pouted.

"Somehow I doubt that anything of you could ever be a mess, ba'a," the gentle voice of his Master still held a trace of his laughter. "Now, come here and see to my eyes. You have made me late already."

"Master," Eyab bowed slightly, covering the distance from the door to the chair his master sat upon in four strides. Reaching out, he gently tilted the Pharaoh's head back until a shaft of bright sunlight lit his eyes, causing him to close them.

The kohl went on smoothly, easily. Ani was truly a master alchemist to make the powder this soft, and Eyab was gratified to know that he would be able to sample such luxury for himself.

"What day is today?" he asked softly as he worked, painting the black powder across the Pharaoh's lids, sweeping it close to the lashes and winging it out beyond his eye.

"The Feast of Maat." The Pharaoh's warm breath washed Eyab's face as he leaned in close to shade the inmost edge of his master's eye.

"The time of truth," Eyab murmured. "The day when my Master shines brighter than Amun in collars of gold and the whitest of linen."

"You think only of material things, child. The Feast of Maat is a time for justice and decisions. I do not think of my appearance when I sit before my people and dispense my judgements."

Eyab drew back. "I am finished, Master," he said softly. He watched as his beloved Pharaoh's eyes fluttered open, glinting lapis-blue in the dancing sunlight. "The mirror, Master?" He held out the beaten copper plate.

"I trust your judgement," the Pharaoh smiled. "You have never yet made me look like a whore, Eyab. Now, kiss me before I make myself ready."

Eyab smiled. "And who shall make me ready?" He leaned in for the kiss, witholding his lips at the last moment. His master laughed.

"Quite the impudent one today, aren't you? Very well. What is it that you are wearing today?"

"The gold, Master," Eyab whispered, seeing the bright, brief flare in those blue eyes. He ran to fetch the silk-lined box from the anteroom. His box... where his master's gifts for him were stored. The gold, the silver, the lapis-lazuli, the malachite, the hematite... such beautiful, wonderful ornaments for him to wear because it pleased his Master to give them to him...

Running back into the main chamber, he skidded to a halt, staring. His master had moved to the window to catch the morning breeze before the heat of the day made freshness an impossibility. The sun caught his short, dark hair, rested on his skin like a caress and lit his eyes with an inner fire. His long white linen kilt fluttered slightly in the breath of wind, revealing powerful legs that made Eyab moan softly. He was so beautiful...

The Pharaoh turned, then, seeing Eyab's stunned gaze. With an indulgent smile, he beckoned his favourite over to him, nodding his approval as Eyab fell to one knee before him, holding up the box.

"The gold, you said?" he murmured, removing several items that glinted in the sun. "Stand, precious one. Give me your right arm."

Eyab placed the box on the floor, straightened up and allowed his arm to be caught up in the warmth of his master's hand. The Pharaoh raised Eyab's wrist to his lips, caressing the sensitive skin with a teasing smile, licking it softly, making Eyab shudder. A beautiful band of the finest, thinnest beaten gold, four fingers in width, was snapped onto his wrist and Eyab moaned softly.

"Your other hand."

Silently, Eyab raised his other arm, watching through narrowed eyes as his master kissed and licked once more, before snapping on the other wristlet. The metal was cool, but already the first was warming to the touch of his skin.

"Enough, my pretty one?" Pharaoh teased, seeing the delicate flush of arousal on Eyab's fine cheekbones. "No, I thought not. Give me the others."

Eyab could not suppress the groan of longing as he watched his master bend his knee before him to snap on the remaining two bands around his ankles. His master... on his knees... before him

A gentle caress of the soft skin inside Eyab's ankle made him whimper before the Pharaoh stood once more, placing his hands on Eyab's shoulders.

"There is still something missing," Pharaoh mused, glancing pointedly at the box. Eyab held his breath, crouching down to retrieve the beautiful gold collar. Decorated with scenes from his master's life, it was a great honour to be given this to wear. It was settled gently upon him; cool on his skin, heavy and wonderful.

There was a sharp sensation on his left earlobe and he realised his master had also allowed him to wear the golden owl earring. The owl: the personal sigil of Khaem Uast meri Maat Amen, and a signal to all that Eyab belonged to Pharaoh. This boy is Pharaoh's property, it announced and none may dare touch him.

"You are done," the Pharaoh sighed. "Done, and just about as perfect as I would have you. Now, that kiss...?"

Smiling broadly, Eyab leaned up to kiss his master gently upon the lips. Pharaoh's tongue slipped teasingly, briefly into his mouth before he withdrew with a smile.

"You have made me late enough as it is, precious ba'a. Call for the Wig and the Crowns. They must be stamping like fine horses outside the door; we have kept them waiting so long!"

Eyab watched, standing on one foot to relieve the boredom of not being able to help his master. He wanted to be the one to settle that beautiful black wig on his master. He wanted to be the one to intone the solemn words as first the white crown and then the red were interlocked and placed on Pharaoh's head. He wanted to be the one anointing his master's body with scented oils and unguents, smoothing them into that perfect skin until the beloved body gleamed like the dawn sun on the Nile.

Finally, the Pharaoh was ready. He rose from the chair and glanced at his favourite servant with a smile of encouragement. "Come, you must stand well behind me today, lest you dazzle my people with all your finery!"

Eyab giggled and followed his master through the antechamber. Across floors strewn with fresh herbs they walked, past sweet fountains of scented water and out, finally, onto the terrace just behind the reception balcony. There, the Pharaoh paused for a moment, bowing his head in silence and summoning the wisdom of the Gods to him.

When he raised his head there was no trace of Eyab's master. No sign of the man who had knelt before him and kissed him. What remained was a mighty king; just and wise, beloved by his people and adored by one young man standing well behind him, draped in gold.

Ani's eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared as he noticed the boy standing well behind Pharaoh's throne. Bedecked in gold, he stood still and straight and true, his chin lifted, his blue-green eyes fixed dead ahead. Even in the shadows behind the balcony, Ani had to admit that the boy's beauty shone through.

But he didn't want to look at the boy. He wanted to look at his Pharaoh. As the titles were read aloud and his Pharaoh seated himself, Ani's lips moved, silently echoing the familiar words: Lord of the Two Lands, Lord of Crowns, Khaem Uast meri Maat Amen, giver of life forever...

Pharaoh accepted the crook and flail, sitting back against the throne, his gaze cast out over the crowded courtyard. Supplicants had come from every cataract of the river, to beg for his wisdom, to request that he solve disputes and to ask his blessing on their crops.

One by one they came forward and were received with grace and good temper, even as the sun grew unbearably hot. Some had to be encouraged with a smile or a nod, but most simply prostrated themselves to beg for whatever they needed; be it justice or a word of wisdom or blessing. And Pharaoh was just, giving wisdom where none had prevailed, blessing not only crops but families and settling disputes most fairly and agreeably.

The sun rose still higher, almost at its zenith in the cloudless sky, and Ani frowned as he saw the boy suddenly move close to Pharaoh's ear. The boy bent down, murmuring something, and Ani squinted to see what it was. He was too far away to discern the movement of the boy's lips, but a few moments' wait made everything clear.

Pharaoh stood, and everyone around him stood. He moved out into the full sun, having previously sat in the shade of a canopy. Gesturing to some of the soldiers standing guard at the gates, he ordered, "Have them dispense beer and water and raise some canopies. The day is too hot to have my people suffer. I shall return when this is done."

The boy's idea, Ani knew. It ripped into him that the boy had spoken and his Pharaoh, his Pharaoh had listened and acted upon his advice. And just look at the boy; draped in more gold than a bedchamber full of whores... Well, his vanity would soon be his undoing...

Eyab waited until Pharaoh was seated and had removed the heavy crowns before offering a cup of wine.

"Thank-you, little one," Pharaoh accepted it with a smile. "Without you, both I and my people would be hot and tired."

Eyab's reply was a simple grin. He drew a low footstool across to the chair and lifted his master's feet onto it. Then he stood, walked behind the chair, reached out and carefully removed Pharaoh's wig.

A muted gasp flew around the room and the Keeper of the Wig rushed forward to protest. He was stayed, however, as Eyab placed the wig into his outstretched hands and buried his own fingertips into Pharaoh's short hair.

The Keeper of the Wig stared, his jaw still agape, as Pharaoh relaxed into the soothing massage, closing his eyes with a rumbling purr.

"If only all of my courtiers knew exactly what I need and when I need it, as you do, precious ba'a," Pharaoh sighed. "You truly are the most wonderful, perceptive creature I have close to me."

Eyab bent his head low, his lips moving as he whispered in his master's ear. None heard what he said, but it elicited a low laugh from the Pharaoh.

"I shall keep you to that," he said, softly.

A young guard was shown into the room. Bowing so low that his wig almost fell off, he recited Pharaoh's titles by rote, then straightened to give his report.

"Great giver of life and justice; the people are sheltered from the sun and have... uh... been given... um... beer... to..."

He faltered entirely, his eyes wide at the vision before him. His Pharaoh, whom he had never seen in anything but full royal regalia; slumped in a chair, wig removed, sipping wine with his feet up and luxuriating in the soothing scalp massage that was being administered by a beautiful young man wearing a lot of gold. Pharaoh didn't even open his eyes as he waved a dismissive hand in the general direction of the guard, who was hustled from the room.

Eyab stepped back, smoothing down his master's hair, allowing the wig to be settled once more onto his head. Crowns back in place, Pharaoh stood.

"Wait!" Eyab ran over to where the finger bowls stood ready for the feast. Picking up a soft drying cloth, he moistened it with the perfumed water and ran back to his master. Working swiftly and carefully, so as not to smudge the kohl, he gently pressed the cool, damp cloth against the heated skin of his master's face before stepping back.

His reward for that small attention was a smile full of love and a gentle caress of his chin before Pharaoh's godlike mask came down. The man had gone and the King had returned.

How beautiful he looks Ani's eyes glowed as he watched his beloved Pharaoh seat himself on the balcony once more. Tall and powerful; those deep blue eyes piercing into the hearts of his people as if seeking their personal truths

Leonine, were Pharaoh's features, and as regal as that great cat; ever aloof in his expression. Ani had seen Pharaoh laugh but once or twice, but those times he had treasured. Those blue eyes were like the night sky over the desert when he laughed; glittering with stars. His smooth face suddenly creased in the most unexpected of places; soft lines forming at the corners of his eyes and mouth, making him wonderfully human and joyous and giving his usually implacable expression such character that Ani wanted to kiss him forever.

Here, however, in judgement over his people, those eyes were still; like clear water. Calm and placid, as if never a turbulent passion had filled him, as if never a harsh word had left his lips. Yet passion and harshness he had. Ani had heard tales: stories from those who had seen what happened to Pharaoh's enemies. A warrior king could not afford to be kind to captives...

Yet those who erred within his kingdom were always dealt fair punishment, as befitted their crimes. A murderer was summarily executed in the manner of his victim; a thief had his property taken from him and was cast from his home; a poisoner would be given food laced with his own poison. Every punishment a just one, and few - even those caught - could argue against the King's fairness.

A shiver passed through Ani as his eyes swivelled onto the beautiful young boy behind Pharaoh's throne.

What would be my punishment be, were I stupid enough to be caught?

Pharaoh Khaem Uast meri Maat Amen woke early the next day with faint fingers of dawn sunlight touching his face. He stretched luxuriously as he came to full consciousness and the blissful knowledge that today was a rare day of rest. No feasts, no court duties, no ceremonials, no temple duties: nothing. Just a day to laze and relax. A day to enjoy the beauty of life. And thinking of beauty, as he was...

"Eyab?" he called out.

"One moment, master," came the faint reply from the adjoining room, accompanied by the splashing of water and followed by silence.

"What are you doing?" Pharaoh laughed, half sitting up in his bed; the single linen sheet slipping away from his torso to puddle at his hips. He leant back on his palms, his arms fully tensed and enjoyed the stretch that he could feel through all of the muscles in his back and shoulders. Closing his eyes, he let the warmth of the sun's rays filter through his lids, turning his vision a strange red.

A faint whisper of something, the pat of bare feet on the floor; both caused him to open his eyes. What he saw made the contented smile freeze on his face.

Eyab before him; his stance easy and graceful, his body barely clothed in a sheer black kilt, loosely belted with a gold chain; his honeyed skin shining with the oil he had buffed into it, his eyes smudged with a new kohl; dark and intense.

"You revive my soul," Pharaoh murmured, taking in the overall impression of darkness, of passion. He had not missed the items Eyab was holding in his outstretched hands: a collar, two wristlets and two anklets made from glinting black hematite stone, hinged with gold. Slowly, and with desire in his eyes, Pharaoh took the items from his favourite's hands and placed them on the sheet, watching as Eyab sat down very, very close to him, sliding even closer, moving his lips to the barest distance from his master's.

"What feast day is this?" Pharaoh husked as Eyab's tongue flitted out to tease his lips.

"The Feast of Eyab," the boy whispered, kissing him softly before drawing back a little and raising his left arm.

"And what must people do on this feast day?" Pharaoh said, fingertips stroking the sensitive skin at Eyab's wrist before his lips followed, blazing a heated trail to the inside of his elbow. Eyab's breath caught sharply.

"They... oh! They must indulge all of their senses..." he whimpered, watching through slitted eyes as his master snapped the metallic- black cuff onto his wrist. It was cold; deliciously so, and he tried to breathe normally. His other arm was caught up and the sharp nip of teeth on the pad of his thumb caused his breath to hiss into his lungs. So much for normally

The sharp click of the second cuff brought him back into reality and his eyes followed Pharaoh's hands as they caressed down his slender legs, cradling his ankles and fastening the anklets into place. His master could not resist allowing his hands to slide back up those tensed legs, taking the line of sleek muscle up the calves, over the knees and up the lean thighs; sliding beneath the sheer black kilt until Eyab thought he would split in two from the torment.

"You come to me clothed in the night, my pretty one," Pharaoh murmured. "This feast is not only for the eyes... what would you have me eat?"

Eyab forced down his cry of desire, instead managing to push the collar across the sheet with trembling fingers. Pharaoh smiled slightly, picking up the collar and weighting it in his hands. It was heavy; panels of hematite held with links of gold and joined to strands of tiny beautiful beads of the same glittering stone, highly polished and reflective. It sat perfectly upon Eyab's shoulders, pushing down exquisitely on his fine collarbones and causing him to moan as his master fastened the links at the nape of his neck.

"Stand," he was commanded. "Let me look upon you."

Eyab bowed his head once and withdrew from the bed. He stood before his master, his chin high and his bearing proud. The effect of the dark hematite and the black kilt against his skin in the warm morning light, coupled with the occasional glint of gold made him look like...

"Dance for me," Pharaoh whispered. "Dance like a whore for me."

Eyab smiled, picking up from the bed the other things he had brought in with him. He knew his master's tastes, after all, and he slipped forefingers and thumbs through the thin leather straps of the finger cymbals, pausing to catch a deep breath before sweeping his body low to the floor in a deep, deep bow. His forehead almost touched the floor before his back arched like a cat's and he slowly came up, twisting his body fully back, marking a slow rhythm with the cymbals as he moved; utterly aware of his master's overbright eyes on him. His feet whispered across the floor as he danced, lost in the joy of movement and the delight of his master's enraptured gaze. He danced and danced, only knowing that this is what his beloved master wanted him to do; and he would do it until he died of exhaustion.

"Eyab." The command was hoarse, deep and needful. "Here. Now."

The cymbals rolled onto the floor as Eyab ran to the bed and sank down next to his master. Pharaoh rolled over, covering Eyab's wrist cuffs with hot, possessive hands.

"You dance the whore too well, my precious one," he husked. "Think that you can tempt me to fall in love with dark night, do you?"

Eyab's response was to lunge his head up, flicking his tongue out to give a sweeping lick of his master's smooth jaw. He slumped back, his eyes filled with heat and desire.

"My master will fall in love with what and whom he chooses," he said, knowing full well that his master had already fallen.

"One of these days your insolence will go so far that I will be forced to punish you publicly, just to save face, ba'a." Pharaoh captured his lips, snagging the lower briefly with sharp, white teeth, causing Eyab to whimper.

"Whatever my master sees fit," he gasped, earning himself a deep chuckle.

"You would enjoy it, and will no doubt provoke me at every opportunity now I have said that," Pharaoh murmured.

"I am provoking you as much as I dare now, my Master," Eyab whispered, thrusting up against the unyielding weight that lay half across him.

"In hope of what return? What is it that you desire of me?"

Eyab whimpered. "Of you? All of you! Want all of... oh yessss..."

The words were lost in a sharp hiss of pleasure as Pharaoh's hand slipped beneath the sheer black fabric, moving surely and swiftly upwards, not pausing to tease but simply reaching its goal and grasping it firmly. Eyab's throat arched up and a tiny, strangled whine left his lips.

"Does it feel good?" Pharaoh whispered. "Being pleasured by the hand of the living god on earth?"

Eyab's tongue scoured his dry lips. "Yes..." he whispered shakily as his master's other hand moved up his torso to flick a taut nipple. "Oh... gods!" Eyab moaned, fighting for control, for sanity.

"Hmm, the gods seem to have deserted you," Pharaoh mused, closing his lips around the nipple, sucking gently before administering a sharp bite that made Eyab howl in pain and pleasure. Pharaoh drew back, licking the tortured flesh and blowing gently on it. Eyab's howl muted into a keening sound deep in his throat.

"I should have these pierced, little one," Pharaoh murmured, nibbling more gently on the other nipple as Eyab squirmed beneath him. "Think... more gold for me to put upon you." His voice held both amusement and arousal as he watched his favourite beneath him; head lolling back, throat arched, skin slicked with sweat. Lucky indeed was the day that brought Eyab to him.

His grip tightened, spiralling Eyab into an intense release; the young man crying out his pleasure, whimpering and sobbing, clutching at his master as he came, stars shooting behind his tightly-closed lids. Finally he sank back onto the bed, breathing hard. His eyes fluttered open.

"You look startled," Pharaoh chuckled.

"I think I travelled along the back of the goddess Nut; from the morning to the evening." Eyab's voice was hoarse, breaking slightly as he spoke. Pharaoh kissed him softly, smoothing back with a tender hand the sweat-dampened hair of his favourite.

After a few minutes, Eyab's hand stole beneath the dishevilled linen sheet, sliding down his master's firm, hard-muscled belly. It was stopped by another hand: warm and powerful. Eyab turned questioning eyes onto his master.

"All day to indulge our every sense, and you wish to exhaust them all in the first hour, ba'a?" Pharaoh teased. "We will break our nights' fast with some fruit and wine first, and then we shall indulge a few of my senses."

Smoky eyes smiled up at him. "As my master wishes..."

Pharaoh glanced up from his wine as Eyab yawned hugely for the second time, then looked extremely guilty.

"I have worn you out already?" Pharaoh's voice held a world of amusement, and Eyab smiled sheepishly.

"I slept well and yet I feel tired, Master," he admitted, stifling another yawn. "I feel as if... I could barely move..."

Pharaoh chuckled. "Helpless, hmm? That sounds very interesting." He drank the rest of his wine, allowing the golden cup to roll onto the floor as he bent his head to kiss Eyab's lips very softly. "Now... which of my senses should I indulge first, I wonder?" he mused.

Eyab grinned, but said nothing as Pharaoh's gaze raked down his supine form on the bed.

"My eyes are ecstatic at the sight of you," Pharaoh murmured. He nuzzled Eyab's throat. "Hmmm... and your scent is that of a thousand living things pushing through the soil: a scent of... flowers... clear water... and life itself."

Eyab whimpered as Pharaoh's tongue snaked out to gather sweeping licks of his neck and throat.

"Your skin delights my tongue, precious one." Pharaoh's voice was rich and warm with arousal. "It surpasses the flavour of the finest wines, of the sweetest fruits."

"Master, please" Eyab whined, wriggling as Pharaoh's fingertips grazed his body.

"You feel softer than the silk my merchants bring from the East; supple, like the cats in the temple, and just as sleek. I think you are a cat, come to human form, precious one. The way you move is decidedly... feline."

His nail scratched a tight, budded nipple and Eyab yelped; the sound ending in a soft moan as Pharaoh gently caressed the taut flesh.

"Oh yes," Pharaoh whispered, his eyes closing, "and the sounds that you make... Sounds that only I can cause you to utter..."

"Please!" Eyab groaned. "Please, Master! You indulge too much! Look to me! I need you!"

Pharaoh's eyes opened slowly and he gazed down at the desperation that shrouded his favourite. Eyab could not keep still; moving tortuously, shifting and nuzzling against him.

"What do you want, little one?" Pharaoh asked.

"I want you!" Eyab snatched hold of his master's hand and guided it down between his thighs; down and down until it met heat and the slickness of oil. "Want you," he gasped. "There"

A low growl of desire left Pharaoh's throat as his fingertips found evidence of Eyab's careful preparation. A faint, sweet scent reached him.

"Oil of almonds, beautiful boy?" he said softly. "You try to tempt me too much. You know that the taste of almonds is one that I cannot resist..."

Eyab's eyes widened as his master slid down his torso, impatiently pushing aside the sheer fabric of the kilt. Strong, hot hands exerted pressure on Eyab's sensitive inner thighs, forcing them back and apart as Pharaoh's head dipped.

"Oh... GODS!" Eyab howled, his fingernails digging into the soft linen sheet as his knuckles whitened and his body shook with the effort it took to restrain his lust. "Master!" he wailed as his eyes rolled back into their sockets, lids fluttering; breath rushing into his lungs in a choked gasp and body rearing. That terrible, skilful tongue was on him; flickering and teasing his heated, secret flesh; sending him into screaming oblivion with such agonising tenderness that he thought he would next awaken to find his heart being weighed against the feather of truth.

Small whimpers burst from his lips like sobs of anguish as desire rolled over him. It was like washing in dirty water, tainting him with lusts he had never before imagined. It was so bad... and so good...

It was some moments before he realised that his master had sat up and was watching him. Eyab grappled for breath, finding from somewhere enough air to fill his lungs and quieten his hammering heart. He opened his eyes; bereft and drifting like an abandoned felucca on the Nile. Nothing came to his lips when he tried to speak, so he closed them and waited on his master's bidding.

Pharaoh was watching him through hooded eyes. He looks like beloved Horus Eyab thought, even as Pharaoh stirred; sliding his body over his precious ba'a, straddling his boy with muscular thighs, his movements swift and urgent.

Eyab whimpered as his own comfort was thrust aside; as Pharaoh's hands clamped down over the hematite wrist cuffs, causing them to bite into the boy's tender flesh. Eyab could only moan softly as Pharaoh filled his body; bearing down against his master because this was now the only moment that existed in the world.

"The Gods are within you, ba'a." Pharaoh's hoarse voice reached him through the roaring in his ears, over the battering of his body. "Rejoice to those Gods; to the living God within you..."

Eyab's tongue flickered across his trembling lips. He swallowed, fighting back the tremors of shuddering pleasure that rattled through him. Adoration... adoration of his God, his own, beautiful God...

His words begans as mere whispers, growing in intensity as his body screamed for release, until they merged with the pleasure and he saw the Gods in the eye of his mind before the final praise left his lips.

"Hai-nek amikhet tehen-sen her ta em khesef-k, neb pet, neb ta, suten maat, neb heh, heq fetta, athi neteru nebu, neter ankh, ari heh, qemam pet, smen su em khennu-s!"

Sing praises to thee those who are following thee, they bow down upon the earth in meeting thee, the lord of heaven, the lord of earth, the king of righteousness, the lord of eternity, prince of everlasting, ruler of all gods, god of life, maker of eternity, creator of heaven; established by him that is within it

Eyab's eyes slowly opened as he felt his master's face nuzzle into his throat. Pharaoh breathed deeply, calming his heart even as he kissed his boy's sweat-slicked skin.

"You should have been a priest, little one," Pharaoh murmured, raking his fingers through Eyab's damp hair. "But then, no... I could not bear to lose you to the temples. You look beautiful in white..." He licked Eyab's quivering lips, his tongue dipping briefly into that sweet mouth before he withdrew and gazed down into those eyes. "Yes, beautiful in white... but you are the sin of my heart in black, and this is where I want you, always."

A solitary tear broke from Eyab's lashes, rolling quietly down his cheek, taking with it a wet streak of kohl as he embraced his Pharaoh; holding tightly on to this powerful man who could kill him just as easily as love him.

Ani sat back on his heels, rocked by emotions that had hit him harder than a sandstorm. His knees cracked slightly and he winced, holding his breath lest anyone hear him. If he should be caught... here... Well, he would probably have his throat slit and be fed to the crocodiles.

He stood with exaggerated slowness, wanting to prevent any more creaking bones, and tiptoed away from the tiny hole he had bored in the wall of Pharaoh's bedchamber. Lucky for him that the bedchamber looked out over a sheltered section of the gardens; bordered by lush plants that were regularly watered and offered wonderful cover for those who had a mind to crouch and spy on their Pharaoh.

He paused by the fountain of Bast, surrounded by tiny black statues of the cat goddess. A growing unease settled over him.

Discovered! Seth help me!

"Ah... the young alchemist..." a silken voice purred, and Ani wondered for a brief, hallucinatory moment if the cats had not come to life. Then, a glimmer of white caught his eye and the Priest of the Temple of Anubis stepped out a little further into his vision.

"Khan-aton," Ani nodded, as coolly as he could manage with the guilt of what he had just done still writ large over his face. He eyed the young priest warily, noting his almost-black eyes and whip-thin body. His head and body were shaved; devoid of any impure hair that could taint the god as he went about his temple duties; but this fact only served to highlight the exquisite cut of his cheekbones and his angular limbs.

Looking into Khan-aton's dark eyes, Ani could almost envisage them being made of hematite. This thought brought on another: that of Pharaoh's pet, bound by cuffs and collars of that metallic stone. A delicate flush rose to Ani's cheeks and he scuffed the toe of his sandal against the floor.

"I was looking for you," Khan-aton continued in a voice like hot honey. "I hear that you are very skilled in the art of mixing cosmetics; most especially powdered kohl..."

Ani's eyes darted around the gardens as fear chilled his heart. "I... I mix Pharaoh's cosmetics," he murmured.

"Mix them, yes, but are not allowed to apply them to his beloved face any more..."

Ani swallowed nervously. "That is of no concern to me. I am honoured to be given the chance___"

"I have cast an augury for you." He was cut off by the action of the priest throwing a small scroll over to him. Catching it clumsily, he tucked it into the waist of his kilt, bowing stiffly.

"My thanks. Please excuse me. I have important work to see to."

Khan-aton smiled - yes, just like a cat! - and slipped back into the shadows; although Ani could make out no shadows in the garden at all. No shadows, and yet the priest had simply vanished...

Ani arrived at his workshop at a dead run. Skittering inside, he slammed the door and slid the bronze latch into place. Scrabbling to move things on his bench, he eventually cleared enough space to allow him to unroll the brittle papyrus. His eyes widened as they flickered rapidly across the elegant heiroglyphics.

A good augury! The god of the darkest twilight and the before-dawn is with me! The jackal god is with me!

Carefully, he re-rolled the papyrus and stowed it away; well-hidden among a pile of scrolls detailing various recipes for cosmetics that he kept beneath the bench. His gaze travelled slowly across the neat rows of empty obsidian kohl pots that stood on a nearby shelf. A new mix, perhaps? Tell the boy that it is best to use it fresh every day, and make this my gift to Pharaoh, through him? Yes; he will accept it gratefully that way. A kohl blacker than the night sky; one that will emphasize his beautiful, changeable eyes... Offered with a little flattery; it would be impossible for his vanity to resist

Practised fingers reached for stoppered vials. Copper oxide: three gentle taps to release the correct amount; gauged by an experienced eye. He could tell to within a few grains what would enhance the mixture and what would ruin it. Antimony: five taps... perhaps a few grains more... yes...

The pestle ground smoothly, mixing the powders until they flowed across the stone mortar with a fluid beauty. Ani smiled to himself as he reached for the final vial. Taking a deep breath and holding it, he released the stopper; taking care not to breathe in the fine particles that wafted into the air. One single tap... The miniscule grains filtered down into the mortar, glinting with a dull, almost metallic sheen in the light. Quickly, Ani replaced the stopper and ground the pestle gently.

Just a natural element of the earth, young Eyab. A common, grey metal that you would not look twice at. But once powdered and ingested... ah... you really should not lick your finger to smudge your eyes, foolish one...

His lungs ached with the effort of holding his breath, but still he worked carefully until the entire mixture glimmered like the moonlit Nile. He decanted it into a new pot, stoppered it, threw the mortar and pestle into a large bowl of water and released his pent-up breath in a great, relieved gasp.

Walking over to the tiny window of the workshop, he drew in a couple of deep lungfuls of air, calming himself before examining the small, shiny black pot. Reaching behind himself, his hand fumbled for - and found - a diamond tipped stylus on the bench. Humming a little dirge to himself, he carefully scratched one word into the smooth black obsidian:

Eyab.

Eyab awoke the next morning in a cold sweat. Fever he thought, dully; shifting uncomfortably. His very bones ached with the effort of that small movement and he wondered how he would get through the day. It was not malaria: he had suffered that as a child, and still the sweats came to him faintly at the same time each year. This was not that time. This was... an overwhelming tiredness; a feeling of fatigue like no other he had ever experienced. It even surpassed the exhaustion he had felt when, to fulfil a dare given by his friend Hunefer he had spent a night in the Necropolis; not closing his eyes for one second lest some wrathful spirit carry him away.

He forced himself to sit up, willing his reluctant body away from the comfort of the bed, shivering. He felt nauseous and shaky, and thought he would be sick as he struggled into his kilt. His belly hurt and he speculated at the freshness of the fruit he had eaten the night before as he sat himself before the window and raised his polished copper mirror to his face.

"Great Seth," he groaned as he saw his reflection. The face that stared back at him was pale and sickly; beads of sweat standing out on the forehead and upper lip. He wiped his face with a cloth and unstoppered the fresh pot of kohl that Ani had sent his apprentice with last night. He dipped the glass stick into the pot, drew it out and began to paint his eyes.

Such luxurious stuff, this. It went on so smoothly; a thick, clean line that smudged perfectly when he ran his fingertip over it. Sucking his blackened finger to wet it, he drew the dampness across the kohl, noting with satisfaction how it improved the effect. He smiled weakly at his reflection, fighting back a surge of dizziness. He looked better. He could cope.

Pharaoh's eyes narrowed as Eyab walked into his bedchamber. The boy moved slowly, as if by great effort of concentration and Pharaoh did not miss the pallor of that usually-honeyed skin. However, he said nothing; merely allowing his eyes to look, his mind to diagnose.

Fever was his first thought as Eyab drew closer and he saw the tiny beads of sweat upon the smooth brow. Pharaoh knew of the boys occasional lapses into malarial fever, but this was not a fever of that kind.

Eyab was silent as he painted his master's eyes, and Pharaoh grew increasingly worried. The boy's eyes were red-rimmed, as if he had been weeping, or awake half the night. His hands trembled finely and every now and then he would be convulsed by a shiver that he could not hide. Once or twice his hand touched his throat absently, and he swallowed often.

Pharaoh noted all this with placid eyes as Eyab replaced the stopper in the kohl pot.

"I am finished, Master," the boy croaked.

"Eyab... you are sick?" Pharaoh asked gently. Those changeable eyes met his.

"I... I don't feel well, Master," Eyab admitted, "but I am well enough to be with you and serve you, if it pleases you."

Pharaoh frowned. "Have you broken your night fast yet?"

Eyab turned slightly green at the mention of food; swaying on his feet. "No, Master," he mumbled.

"You should eat___ Eyab?"

The boy's eyes had glazed over. He snapped back to reality. "Hmm? Master?"

"Eyab... precious one, I think you should return to your bed. I shall call my physician. You are not well."

"No, I am fine, Master; really I___"

There was a brief moment when Eyab swayed like a young palm in a violent sandstorm, and then his legs buckled, his eyes rolled back and he simply crumpled to the floor.

Pharaoh gazed silently out over the deserted courtyard. In the two sunrises since Eyab had collapsed, Khaem Uast meri Maat Amen; Lord of the Two Lands, Lord of Crowns, Giver of Life Forever had not stirred from the side of the boy who had captured him with his unsurpassed beauty and cheeky smile.

He knew that his courtiers regarded his actions as those of a madman; a man besotted and incapable of ruling this great land. No single thing should be more important to Pharaoh than Egypt was. He was taking a terrible risk in forsaking his duty; there were always more than enough enemies and ambitious men ready to take his place, but he didn't care. This boy was the most precious thing in his life right now; more precious than thrice-damned Egypt, and if Pharaoh was going to lose him then Pharaoh wanted to spend every remaining moment of his life with him.

Giver of Life Forever was his name, and yet he could breathe no life back into Eyab. The physician was certain of it: the boy was dying. Had Pharaoh not demanded that treatment should continue, that same physician would have recommended beginning work on a tomb; and fast.

Four purges the boy had been forced to suffer until nothing was now left in his belly. No spark remained of the ebullient spirit that Pharaoh had loved. Just this pale, shrunken shell...

Pharaoh was dying with him, and his courtiers were both alarmed and despairing. They pleaded and wheedled; tried cajolement and even blackmail, but those turbulent blue eyes still rested on the boy's ashen face and Pharaoh would not move.

The whisper of feet behind him made him turn slowly. Aye, his vizier, stood in the doorway, wringing his hands anxiously. Behind him there hovered the young man who had once been Keeper of the Cosmetics. Ani, wasn't it? Yes, Ani...

Pharaoh's eyes narrowed imperceptibly. The young Keeper looked nervous; half hiding behind the vizier, who was speaking.

"... the temple. Great Giver of Life Forever, you must attend this ceremony. The crops depend upon it. Please. It will take but a short time, yet it is essential to the existence of your people."

Pharaoh's gaze returned to Eyab, then moved on to the table by the window. Again, his eyes narrowed as if seeking something. He took Eyab's thin hand in his, turning it upwards and softly stroking the palm. Raising it to his lips, he kissed the black-stained pad of Eyab's forefinger before resting the hand back on the bed.

"Very well," he sighed. "Leave me. I shall be with you in one moment."

Ani glanced up as Pharaoh entered the room; imposing and as regal as ever, yet his posture, his bearing, his very being was tainted with sadness. He sat down slowly and Ani hurried over to him, solicitously smoothing back his master's tousled hair and rejoicing that he was back in his rightful place.

He removed the stopper from Pharaoh's kohl pot and was about to dip the glass stick into it when a large, warm hand rested upon his arm.

"You will use this, Keeper." Pharaoh's voice was low; dangerous even. Ani swallowed as he recognised the pot his master was holding out to him.

"Great Giver of Life Forever; that mixture is not fresh___"

Pharaoh picked up the copper mirror and threw it at him. Ani had to drop the new pot in order to catch it.

"Then hold that while I do it myself!" Pharaoh growled, proceeding to paint his own eyes using Eyab's kohl.

"M...master... I___"

"Silence, Keeper. Do not disturb me."

Ani trembled as Pharaoh painted the thick line of kohl... that kohl... around his eyes and smudged it with his forefinger. There was the briefest of hesitations and Ani's eyes widened in horror as his master raised the same finger to his lips.

"No!" Ani cried, dropping the mirror and grabbing Pharaoh's wrist.

Their faces were a breath apart; Pharaoh's deep blue eyes boring into his own. Ani drew back slightly, shaking; watching as Pharaoh's hand turned slowly in his grasp until the dark smudge of kohl was presented to him. The look in Pharaoh's eyes told Ani everything.

He knew. Pharaoh knew, and was dealing him an immediate, divine justice. A perfect justice that Ani could not argue against. A poisoner to be poisoned by his own method...

Ani lowered his eyes in deference and resignation, accepting the proffered finger into his mouth, tasting the kohl on his tongue, watching as Pharaoh then drew the dampened finger over one eye. Again into his mouth to dampen the other eye and Ani shuddered, already imagining the fine paricles of metallic arsenic shredding him from the inside out; tearing his belly, shaking him with fatigue and shattering him with fever and sickness.

"Go," Pharaoh whispered. "Say your farewells, as my precious boy was unable to..."

Ani fled. The sound of running feet echoed at the edge of the entire palaces' hearing. Up and up they wound; clattering over stone steps. Up and up as the terror of poison invaded Ani's already fevered imagination.

Not this way. Not slowly. Please, Gods, swiftly

Eyes rose in horror as a small, lone figure appeared on the palace roof. It swayed as if searching for something. Women cried out, men stared; the palace was frozen in a moment of utter shock.

A glimpse of white... there... in the shadows of the garden... a priest with jackal's eyes... there... or where...?

A short scream... a dull thud.

Silence.

In Pharaoh's bedchamber, blue-green eyes fluttered open and deathly pallor faded. Colour returned rapidly to thin, faded cheeks and a cracked query of "Master?" sounded through dry lips.

A shout rose: Blessing of the Gods!

The door burst open and its place was filled with a hopeful man. Not a God, not a King; just a man.

"Eyab? Little one?"

A few minutes later, the vizier coughed as unobtrusively as he could.

"The temple ceremony, Great Giver of Life Forever...? The crops...?"

Pharaoh smiled and shook his head, as if to say 'forget it'.

"My harvest is safely stored," he said as the boy nestled into his embrace and turned his face toward his throat. Pharaoh chuckled as eager lips nuzzled his skin and sharp little teeth nipped gently.

"Behave yourself, precious ba'a. We are not alone," he murmured.

Eyab giggled. "Well you did say that if my behaviour got bad enough, you would punish me in public..."

"I said that?"

"Yes." Eyab kissed the grin from his master's face.

"Aye..." Pharaoh's voice rose in a command.

"My Pharaoh?"

"In the corner you will find a silk-lined wood box. Bring it here and then leave us."

Only when the patter of sandals had long vanished did Pharaoh pull the box across Eyab's bed and look down into it. Gold... hematite... malachite...

"What feast day is this?" He turned to Eyab; his breath catching at the sight of his beautiful boy raised up on his elbows, supported by slender arms. An elegant hand dipped into the box and drew out two wrist cuffs exquisitely fashioned from lapis-lazuli. Those blue-green eyes met his; liquid and laughing.

"The Feast of Khaem Uast meri Maat Amen," that voice whispered. "Your left wrist, if you please, my Master..."

END