"Of Princes And Slaves"
Part 10
by Osiris Brackhaus & Beryll

 

- Ardeth Bey (Oded Fehr) -

His gods have blessed the princeling not only with good looks and a sharp mind, he also has a piercing voice. I cannot say how I had gotten the ridiculous impression that he would simply submit to the marking. I should have known that he would fight with teeth and claws. I should have warned my dear cousin Matouf. But at least he would now see, that I had not fallen for a pretty face but for a fierce soul.

Still the sounds of struggle and the unbelieving anger and pain in Nekhem's voice followed me down to the meadows, where I busied myself tending the horses we had brought from his land. Finally the shouting subsided and I felt my heart grow small and cold. The tattooing would be painful, but I knew well that this was not why he had fought so hard. He would not easily accept belonging to someone else. And not knowing what Matouf would write in his face he could only believe that it was like simple branding, a sign of ownership.

How much I longed to simply tell him what was in my heart. How much I longed to take him in my arms and right the wrong I had done him. But that was not to be. Not yet anyway. His pride was like a shield between us. If he could not accept himself as being mine, how could I give myself into his hands?

He was clever, but not wise yet. In many things he was still a boy and it was my duty to watch out for him till he could see things more calmly, more clearly. With accepting what was in my heart I had taken responsibility for him and I would have to hope that whatever fondness he felt for me would endure the test it was now put to. If ever he learned to take pride in my love, I would reveal to him what I had given him this day.

Still my heart ached and although my hands were occupied with the simple task of brushing the horses, tending their hooves and leading them to the water, my mind was ever with Nekhem, trying to fathom the magnitude of his humiliation. My ears ever trying to pick up a sign that Matouf might be finished.

Trained to pick up any difference in the sounds of the camp I noticed the sudden silence immediately. So Matouf was done. And now they saw what I had written clearly in Nekhem's face. I was not sure at all how my tribe would react to this. My father would probably not be too happy. But it had been what honor demanded. And the people of the desert ever bow to the wish of the spirits. So he had taught me, so I had to do.

I stood next to the horse, laying my face against it's warm neck, trying to gather courage that had never deserted me until now. Would he now hate me? Would I see nothing but pain and anger in his eyes when I faced him? Or would he still be able to forgive? I had to go and find out for myself, but it was a hard thing to do indeed. Why not stay here a little longer? Why not draw out the inevitable a bit more, entertaining hopes that might be crushed all too soon.

Only when the sun slowly dipped towards the horizon, painting the sky in pinks and violets did I finally go back to camp. I had hidden myself away long enough. Time to be a warrior, not a coward. Time to face the facts.

Most of the women were still chatting in the day-tent and I was sure I would find Nekhem there as well, although now I did not hear his voice raised with the other's. I was not disappointed. He sat a bit apart from the girls, bowed over a piece of cloth, his fingers nimbly moving a needle in and out, fully concentrated on his task.

Only when the women fell silent, looking at me, did he look up too. Even the looks on the female faces turned towards me would have been enough to send me running again. I was faced with a wide variety of disapproval, confusion, disappointment and accusation. None of the women of my tribe seemed to be very happy with what I had done. I was not surprised.

But I was surprised by the expression in his eyes. There was pain, yes, and anger too, but surpassing all that was the overwhelming feeling of being betrayed. He looked at me like I had sworn to be his guardian and then stabbed him from behind. It hurt. It hurt me as much as I had hurt him.

And he was beautiful. His eyes were a little red from crying, the skin on his right cheekbone swollen from the tattooing, but by all the spirits of the night, he was so beautiful. The script on his cheek telling me what I had sworn to do, sworn to be, forever reminding me of what I had lost and might gain.

I crouched down in front of him and reached out to touch his face. He withdrew but then checked himself, lowering his eyes in the meek slave fashion that suited him so ill. I ran a thumb across the marking gently, feeling my heart cry out in pain at his hurt. To love him would not be simple but very easy.

Then I got up again. "Come with me, princeling." I told him, trying to keep the nervousness I felt out of my voice. It would not do to talk to him in front of all the women, in front of their scorn.

He got up as well, leaving the cloth and his tools behind. Only after walking a few paces did I notice that he followed slowly, hopping from foot to foot like a horse with a hurt hoof, looking awkward and not his usual graceful self at all.

I looked back at him, frowning. "What's wrong?" I asked him and he scowled at me, his eyes clearly saying 'everything is wrong, you horrible monster'.

But all he said was: "My master has not seen fit to give me sandals and there are sharp stones everywhere." How well he had adopted the way I had spoken to him when our roles had been reversed.

He was right, of course. I was wearing soft boots like all my family and tribe. There were too many poisonous snakes in the desert to make do with sandals. I should make sure to get him boots as well or I might lose him to something as foolish as a snake's bite.

With two strides I was back at his side, picking him up easily and throwing him over my shoulder to carry him back to my tent. For a moment he struggled, an angry squeak showing his opinion of this undignified means of travel, but then he subsided.

How good it felt to have his warm body so close to mine, even if it was just for a few moments. I felt the urge to caress his bottom, so very available right now but resisted. He would not have taken kindly to that, I was very sure.

"I will make sure to get you shoes tomorrow." I told him while I walked over to my tent and he grumbled something indistinguishable in return.

Back at my tent I set him back on his feet, taking care not to let my hands linger on him any longer than absolutely necessary. I did not want to bring back memories of what had happened this morning. Neither to him nor to me.

I opened the tent-flap and held it open for him to go inside. His stiff back clearly showed that he did remember the morning and that he did not consider them pleasant memories. Inwardly I cursed my stupid pride and wish for useless revenge but outwardly I remained calm and followed inside. It would take some work to make him trust me again. If he ever would.

I let the tent-flap fall close behind me again and went over to the small chest were my sister Rhesa had stored some useful items for me, rummaging for a salve that would take away the pain of the marking.

He still stood next to the tent-flap, managing to look scornful and lost at once, when I turned around again.

"Come here." I told him and he obeyed reluctantly. I had to take his hand and draw him down to my bedroll. He sat stiffly, a mixture for fear and anger radiating off him. I tried to ignore it and applied some of the salve to his cheek. He simply looked down at his feet, staying as silent as I had done so many times.

So I was surprised when I suddenly heard his voice: "Why did you do this?"

"Do what?" I asked back, not sure what of the things I had done to him lately he was referring to.

"Why did you have to mar my face like this? Why did you have to shun me from my own people? Did you think it would make me more obedient?"

His words were justified but they still hurt. Did he really believe me that cruel? Well, maybe he had reason enough to do so.

"No, princeling. I don't think anything could make you obedient. And you look beautiful."

At that he raised his eyes to stare at me in confusion. I had never told him that before, I realized. Again I gently ran a thumb across the marking and this time he did not flinch away but held my gaze.

"At least you look beautiful to me." I amended. "And sometimes the way back to your people is neither as far nor as impossible as you may believe."

At this he looked rueful, his lips almost twitching into a half-smile.

"Will you at least tell me what it means?" he asked, anger already flashing in his eyes again.

"No." I said, feeling the fire in his dark eyes warm my heart. "As long as you hate these markings as much as you do now, they will not mean anything to you anyway. Only this, they mean much to me."

For a moment he stared at me in unabashed anger. Then a sudden soft sigh escaped him and the tension he had held on to drained out of him like water from a broken water-skin. Closing his eyes he leaned his head forward so it came to rest against me chest.

I stared down at his unruly curls in wonder. Could it really be that he would trust me again this easily? For a long moment I did not dare move in fear that I would startle him away like a shy antelope. But when he made no move to flee I slowly laid my arms around him and was rewarded with the feeling of him relaxing into my embrace.

Spirits, I had not known how good it would feel to hold him, now that I knew I loved him. Carefully I caressed his hair and he sighed against me without moving. If he was still afraid of me, he was hiding it well. Or maybe he was just hoping against hope that this time I would be, what he had wanted me to be, his friend, his lover. Neither master nor slave. Or maybe I was just daydreaming.

No matter. I sat with him against me for a long time, enjoying his trusting presence, stroking his hair until I felt his breath grow calm and regular and I realized that he had fallen asleep in my arms.

Careful not to wake him I laid him down on my bedroll and wrapped him in the blanket. He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and he was mine. Somehow I would make him understand this. Somehow I would make him love me.

Then I got up to find some food for the two of us. This evening I would make sure that he would not have to live on left-overs. After all, he was not a simple slave anymore.

---

- Prince Nekhem (Orli) -

I knew I was just being silly.
How could I be so naive and expect my owner suddenly be gentle and friendly, after all that he had done to me during this one day?

But the thought of this had been so very tempting. So much what I still hoped for, despite anything he had done today. Maybe he had just done whatever had been necessary to fulfil the cryptic demands of his honor, and now could act as his heart told him to.

Perfect, I thought silently to myself. This is exactly the kind of starry-eyed trap that gets stupid people into abusive relationships they can't get out anymore.
But the way Ardeth closed his arms around me was what I had been longing for such a long time. Gentle, and caring. And when I closed my eyes, I could imagine we were happily together on some farm, maybe even on the lavish estate of my aunt.
I could imagine we were happy together.

I didn't want to think of what he had done to me this morning, or how he had marred my face. Just for a tiny moment, I didn't want to think of my brother's treason and what that entailed for my future.

For one lousy, naive moment, I wanted to think of us, and nothing besides.

The day had exhausted me, both my body and my heart, and in Ardeth's protective embrace, however much I made it so by my own imagination, I relaxed for the first time since we had to flee from my people.

I didn't even notice that I drifted off into sleep.

----

Food was the first thing on my mind when I awoke, and my still-clumsy mind struggled to figure out why the slaves had brought something so exotically spiced to my rooms for breakfast.

But then I remembered. I was the slave, and for all reason, I should have been the one to bring food to my master. Blinking sleepily, I tried to find out where that pungent scent of food came from.

I found Ardeth squatting in front of me, a large bowl on the ground between us, its contents steaming gently.

"I thought you might want something to eat, Princeling," he said softly, and I was confused at the lack of insult he managed to say the last word with.

Again blinking to get my sluggish mind working properly again, I noticed that he had not only brought food for the two of us, but also must have tugged me into his bedroll before leaving.

How sweet. And how confusing.
Was this merely the prologue to another of his absurd cruelties? Or had he really changed that much?

"I'm sorry I fell asleep on you," I said, serious with the excuse, and yet curious if he would comment the fact that I had omitted a proper honorific.

But he just smiled at me.
What was he up to? He had never before smiled at me before.
And what a smile that was, I noticed as I looked at him truly, for the first time. Wide and full of gentle warmth, it graced his strong features with such a dazzling beauty I was stunned speechless for a moment.

Good Lady Isis, I thought, how did he get by a smile like that? I thought that kind of grace you only bestow on your favorites. But, then again, he doesn't have to believe in you for you to like him, does he? I bet you like him. We like him both, do we?
And we both have as much or as little reason to do so.

Ardeth got a small pile of thin flatbreads from next to him, placing some of them on my side of the bowl. He started to tear apart one of them, but as I didn't move closer to the dinner he had brought, he looked at me questioningly.

Still a bit dazzled, I didn't manage to bring out any answer before his lips split apart to reveal two even rows of brilliant white teeth.
By the grace of all the gods, never before had a man's smile set my heart racing like this.

"You are beautiful," he said in his deep voice, and I couldn't help but blush.

What had happened to change him that much? Why had he suddenly turned into the man I never even hoped would be behind his grim facade, only when he had hurt me so much I was beginning to believe it would never happen?
Or was I just so excruciatingly naive that I even misinterpreted a condescending mockery for the real thing?
But he thought me beautiful! Me, a 'godless city-dweller'!
Probably I was entertaining hopes that were slim at best, but still better than not having any at all.

So I just thanked him with a shy nod, leaving his bedroll to move closer to dinner. The bowl contained some kind of stew, with lots of meat and some coarsely ground wheat underneath. Ardeth used the piece he had torn of the flatbread to form something like an edible spoon, eating slowly, watching me incessantly.

His eyes contained a sparkle that made my hands twitch nervously.
What was it that I reacted on him like a fellachin maiden who has never before seen a man woo for her? I felt so nervous it made me giddy.
I had known many people interested in winning my heart, when I had still been a Prince of the Realm. Both men and women sought my favor, even if I was only the Pharaoh's second-born. And there had been enough offers, enough smoldering looks from beautiful eyes that I should be used to it by now. At least, one should think so, but the fluttering feeling in my chest like caged doves told me otherwise.

Of course it is different, I heart Lady Meret's voice in the back of my head. This time, you got something to lose.
Sure, I replied mentally, and what could I still lose? After my family, title, people were all taken from me?
Your heart, she answered solemnly.
Oh. And I thought I lost that already a long while ago.
She didn't reply on that one. But the point was clear. Never before had I been the one who had hoped to see his love requited.

For a while, we both ate in silence, and I was grateful for it. Gave me the time to calm down a bit, and to get used to the really spicy dish I had been served. But it was good, and far better than the left-overs last night or the dried fruits I had been living on during the day.

"This is really good," I mumbled between two bites, "Far better than... last night."

Stupid me. Why did I have to bring that up?
But Ardeth didn't seem to take any offense. Instead, he said softly:

"I'm sorry I have hurt you."

My confused glance told me that he was looking at me again, and so I replied flatly:

"It wasn't the marking that had hurt so much..."

"It wasn't the marking I spoke of in the first place," my owner said softly, gently tapping his left chest as a hint.

Again, I couldn't suppress a blush like a farmgirl. Gosh, how could he be that sweet?
And why, by all the curses of Seth, did he hurt me although he knew how much it would harm me? This man just didn't make sense to me, not at all. But he was very good at making me not want to care.

We finished our dinner in companionable silence, and when Ardeth brought back the bowl to wherever he had fetched it from, I wondered for a moment if he was expecting some kind of reward for his kindness.
He'd better not, or he'd be even more of a despicable rodent than I had ever thought him before.
Yet I was tempted to reward him anyway.

But the memories of his loveless humping was still too fresh in my mind, too close to suppress when I looked at his bedroll again.

So when he returned, I still sat there on the carpet in front of his bedroll, staring on the ground.
Ardeth undressed, extinguished the small oil-lamp that had lit the tent during our dinner and made himself comfortable underneath his light blanket.

"Would you mind to come over? Or do you want to sleep alone?", he asked, and I knew that whatever would happen could not be prevented, yet only postponed. So I got rid of the still unfamiliar garb of his people, silently gliding next to him.
The dry warmth of his body was a welcome change to the desert's nightly chill, and despite my diffuse fears, I found myself snuggling close to him.

Ardeth put his arms around me, and once again, I silently wished this would be more than just a happy dream of perfect moment.

I waited for his hands to caress me, to take possession of my body again, but no such thing happened. Instead, he gently stroked my hair, whispering:

"Sleep soundly, princeling, and may your dreams be free of fear."

And with a soft kiss to my neck, he relaxed, drifting off into sleep himself. It took me a while to realize that tonight, there would be nothing more happening but sleeping. Reluctantly, all the muscles I had sub-consciously tensed up relaxed one by one, and before I fell asleep as well, I whispered:

"Sleep soundly, my love."

----

- Ardeth Bey (Oded Fehr) -

Waking up was as marvelous as it should be, when the one thing you love most is snuggled up against you, seeking shelter from the cold of a chilly desert night and from the cruelties that the world had heaped on him in the last couple of days.

He lay on his side, his head cushioned on my chest, one arm wrapped around me, the other pressed against me between our two warm bodies. He look utterly calm and at rest. The skin of his cheek was already recovering from the marking and the script was even clearer than the day before.

It did look beautiful. It might take him forever to actually see it, but it accentuated his delicate cheekbone advantageously, lending his almost boyish features a fierceness that had before only shown when his eyes caught fire in anger. He was a son of kings after all. He might grow into a warrior yet. Although I would have preferred him to forever depend on my strong arm. Maybe he would fight with his sharp mind rather than with blade and horse one day. When he learned to use the tools granted him by the spirits without trusting in the wrong people. Like his brother.

Like me.

He should never have trusted me. Some strange fate had made my heart open to his sweetness. But just as well it could have hardened to brittle stone from what he had done to me. Stone that would break into a thousand splinters that would cut him.

Still, I loved him. And I was willing to forgive.

Forgive but not forget.

My blood stirred with memories. Memories of that afternoon in his aunts gardens. How I had craved his touch. How my every muscle had strained for him. How his heat had warmed me to the bone. There was no use in denying it now, I had enjoyed it. Or at least my body had. My mind had carefully abstained and now I was wondering what it might feel like, when I was giving myself to the flow of love making fully.

A shiver ran down my spine when I remembered the previous morning. That had not been enjoyable.

Even less for him than for me.

How much I suddenly wished I could turn the time back. To have another chance. To do things right. To make him feel, what he had made me feel when he took me, used me... But that was just what I had done yesterday, wasn't it? I had made him loath me. I had made him fear my touch.

I would have to find another way, to approach this. Once and for all this had to be set right between the two of us. However much I might desire him, I must never force him again.

As softly as if I was caressing a small bird that might fly away I let me fingertips trail over his cheek. Never hold him, never confine him, never scare him. Carefully. Let him come to me or flee as he wished. Winning his trust might take a long time after I had broken it so carelessly but I would take that time.

He stirred in his sleep, snuggling even closer, his fingers seeking my hair and than clutching some of it as if he was looking for something to hold on to in his dreams. He looked so small and vulnerable that I my heart ached. How could I have hurt him so much?

I continued caressing him softly, brushing some of his unruly curls out of his face. How would he look, if he ever let them grow? How would he look growing older and wiser. I so much hoped I would be able to see all that. So much hoped that he would stay with me forever.

He mumbled something in his sleep, tugging on my hair and than he opened his eyes. Slowly, sleepily, blinking wide-eyed at my closeness. For a blissful moment the cloudiness of sleep stayed, then he remembered and I felt his body grow tense in my arms.

I made no move to draw him closer but I didn't withdraw my hand, resting in his hair either. 'Please, spirits, make him stay', I silently prayed. I felt a shiver run through his whole body and realized that he was forcing himself to stay. I saw it by the fear in his eyes, the remembered pain barely held in check.

"Don't fear, beautiful, I will not hurt you again." I said gently.

Now there was confusion in his eyes. But I could also see that he was not ready to believe me that easily. It would take some more proof that this time I would not break my word.

I withdrew my hand from his hair then, freeing him from any confines of my arms. "You can go whenever you want to." I told him and felt no shame for the pain I could hear in my voice. Spirits, it would tear out my heart to see him leave.

"I am your slave. There is nothing for me to 'want'." he whispered, fighting hard to keep his own voice controlled.

Yes, as far as he could see he was my slave. Better let him believe this for a little longer.

"Still I will not force you ever again. I will not hurt you. I promise."

Of their own volition my hand rose again and caressed his cheek, my fingers trembling. "Sweet princeling, I will swear on my father's honor, if that is what you want to hear."

Another shiver ran through his body but strangely enough this time he did not jerk away but pressed closer against me only to immediately withdraw.

"How can I believe that?" he asked, so much pain in his voice that it sounded raw and coarse. "You promised before not to hurt me. You broke that oath."

"I told you I would not feel bound by that oath. I even warned you. You didn't listen. An honorless man does not feel bound by an oath like that."

Now there was the familiar slow burn of fury in his eyes and I had to suppress a smile. How much better to see him angry than to see him cower in fear. This was much more of 'Prince Nekhem' than he had shown in the last couple of days.

"The honor of a man can not be stripped that simply. It is in himself. Only he can give it away." he argued hotly.

He was right of course. I knew that now. Had realized it when I had to admit to myself that I loved him. But that would not change the views of my family, friends and ancestors. But this was not the time to discuss that.

"So maybe I did give away my honor." I amended. "Still that does not make me an oathbreaker as well."

He stared at me incredulously and this time I had to smile briefly.

"I do apologize for any hurt I have caused you." I said, seriousness returned to my voice. Maybe one day he would see what he had done to me as well. Maybe then he would be able to apologize as well.

Now he just looked at me, obviously trying to figure out what had wrought this sudden change in me. Maybe it would make this much easier, if I just told him.

Gently, careful not to threaten or confine him in any way I drew him closer against me again. He did not resist. But he did not relax either.

How difficult to say those simple words. How much courage it took to just admit it to his face.

In the end I buried my face next to his ear, my voice no more than a shy whisper.

"I love you."

 

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Osiris Brackhaus & Beryll

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