First chapter!
Feb. 26th, 2004 04:52 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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kj_roundrobinI finished! I hope this is up to everyone's par. >.<
Untitled Right Now
Prologue
By Alecto Perdita
He tried to escape under the cover of night. His precious burden was tucked securely in his arms folded across his chest. The contents of the urn, strangely ornate in design, sloshed against the sides on the inside. He feared spilling even a drop of the precious liquid.
Jono prayed for Anubis to spare his sister until he was able to get there. He would be damned before he let her die, and certainly without him at her side. This also caused certain role conflicts, one he would certainly be made to pay dearly. He had no choice though.
The palace was silent this late at night. The banquets had ended hours ago. He crept toward a secret side exit that most of the slaves and servants knew about. Going through it was another story altogether. His own escapes had proved to be futile thus far. The scars from his punishment would forever remain.
The moon hung high in the sky. Jono wondered how long it would be before the first ray of Amun-Ra’s boat peek through the horizon. He hoped to be home before then.
He rounded the corner of the building that was the kitchen. He froze. Soldiers, the House Guardians more specifically, were waiting for him. He turned to run but found two more soldiers behind him. He held the urn closer to his chest. “I can’t let you take me.” His words were drenched with desperation.
One of the soldiers stepped forward. “Don’t make this harder for yourself, Hem.”
Jono shrunk back from them and tried to glare defiantly. His hope was quickly waning. “Please.”
The soldier closed in and grabbed his shoulder. Jono pulled away and punched the soldier across the face, still cradling the urn with his other arm. The soldier swore and his comrades moved forward.
“Don’t kill him. Per-aa wants him brought back alive.”
Jono dodged to the side as one of the soldiers dived at him. There was no way for him to win against five armed men, especially since he couldn’t afford to spill the urn. Only a brief struggle ensued. Quiet and desperate like the slave that sought to escape.
The earthenware urn crashed to the ground, littering the ground with shards. The liquid once contained in the urn flowed out into the earth. The earth drank greedily of it and Jono’s blood.
~~~
Platter. Platter. Platter.
The warm wetness flowed down his stinging back. He bit his tongue to keep from screaming. His head swam from the pain. Sweat ran heavily down the side of his face. This was by far his worse punishment yet.
Jono vaguely recognized the sound of footfall, the footfall of a group of people. They came to a stop right in front of him. At the sight of gilded sandals, Jono knew instantly he was faced with the Pharaoh himself.
The whip, its snapping the only sound he had heard for the last hour, had long fallen silent. The Pharaoh’s voice, rich with infliction and just the slightest bit of hurt, rang through the empty dungeon. “Why again, Jono? What is this? The fourth time? You are clothed and fed. Your life is so much better compared to others.”
Jono remained silent and stared at the blood-speckled floor. What was he to say? That his sister was far too ill? That she would be likely to pass on by the season’s end, if she would even last that long? He was a slave. His loyalty was supposed to belong to the Pharaoh and the Court he served. One did not tell the son of Amun-Ra that he was nowhere as important as one’s family. It was a sacrilegious thought even.
The Pharaoh continued. “You know why you were punished so severely this time. You stole, Jono. You stole from Seth.”
He fought to keep the insolent comments on the tip of his tongue under control. Yes, he had stolen from the damn priest. Perhaps it was partly because of his dislike for the arrogant bastard. Seth’s magic was said to be the strongest of the Seven, after the Pharaoh of course. Jono thought the potion may help save his sister’s life. He had dropped it though.
“Nothing to say, mongrel?”
Jono’s head shot up at the sound of the deep voice speaking those words. “What did you say?!”
The tall priest towered over him as usual. The royal blue attire was clean and form fitting. The millennium Rod was strapped to the priest’s side. Each time Jono saw this man, he couldn’t help but thing about what made him so despicable. A sudden thought of insight flashed through his mind.
“You!” Jono spat. “You read my mind!”
The priest watched him with that impassive expression. “You stole from me.”
Jono was at a lost. He was a thief, no matter what his motivation. He couldn’t help but feel violated by the priest’s intrusion upon the sanctity of his mind. His thoughts were his own and his own alone.
“Jono, this has to stop.”
Jono’s gaze drifted to the Pharaoh. He averted his gaze quickly. The Pharaoh had been good to him but he would betray the man a hundred times over to save his sister.
“If you cannot keep your slaves under control, Per-aa, I cannot see how you can possibly rule an entire kingdom.” Before the Pharaoh could reply, Set cut him off. “Give him to me. I will discipline him. He stole from me, Per-aa, broke a very expensive urn and spilled the potion. It would only be proper compensation.”
Jono held his breath as the Pharaoh debated in silence. He couldn’t imagine his life under Priest Seth as master. The man was absolutely ruthless. He shuddered to think of the possibilities.
“Very well, Seth. You will hold your tongue in the future, Seth.” The Pharaoh leveled his piercing blood red eyes on the priest. “I will not tolerate such disrespect.”
Seth bowed slightly. Jono could see the small smirk that graced the priest’s thin lips. “Of course, Per-aa. Forgive me, Son of Amun-Ra.”
The Pharaoh turned away. “If you mistreat him…” The warning was all too apparent in his tone.
Jono could feel Seth’s gaze drill into his skull. He refused to look up. He refused to let the priest see his anxiety.
“I know very well the price of mistreating slaves, Per-aa. The Hem will come to no harm with me.”
Jono wasn’t going to stop. He was needed at home. Not at this gilded palace with its false facades and forced smiles. He knew the intrigue that crawled under everyone’s skin, just beneath the surface. He longed for the comfort of home, his mother’s voice and his sister’s embrace…
Per-aa: The original title that Pharaoh was derived from by the Greeks
Hem (Hm): meaning "body" but translated as slave mostly
As you probably noticed, I set up some plot devices any of the other authors might want to use later on. Please forgive me for my myth references I stuck in. If anyone is interested, I recommend reading about Egyptian slavery here.
Final thought: We in much need of a title!
*goes to hide in a corner and prepare for flames...*
Prologue
By Alecto Perdita
He tried to escape under the cover of night. His precious burden was tucked securely in his arms folded across his chest. The contents of the urn, strangely ornate in design, sloshed against the sides on the inside. He feared spilling even a drop of the precious liquid.
Jono prayed for Anubis to spare his sister until he was able to get there. He would be damned before he let her die, and certainly without him at her side. This also caused certain role conflicts, one he would certainly be made to pay dearly. He had no choice though.
The palace was silent this late at night. The banquets had ended hours ago. He crept toward a secret side exit that most of the slaves and servants knew about. Going through it was another story altogether. His own escapes had proved to be futile thus far. The scars from his punishment would forever remain.
The moon hung high in the sky. Jono wondered how long it would be before the first ray of Amun-Ra’s boat peek through the horizon. He hoped to be home before then.
He rounded the corner of the building that was the kitchen. He froze. Soldiers, the House Guardians more specifically, were waiting for him. He turned to run but found two more soldiers behind him. He held the urn closer to his chest. “I can’t let you take me.” His words were drenched with desperation.
One of the soldiers stepped forward. “Don’t make this harder for yourself, Hem.”
Jono shrunk back from them and tried to glare defiantly. His hope was quickly waning. “Please.”
The soldier closed in and grabbed his shoulder. Jono pulled away and punched the soldier across the face, still cradling the urn with his other arm. The soldier swore and his comrades moved forward.
“Don’t kill him. Per-aa wants him brought back alive.”
Jono dodged to the side as one of the soldiers dived at him. There was no way for him to win against five armed men, especially since he couldn’t afford to spill the urn. Only a brief struggle ensued. Quiet and desperate like the slave that sought to escape.
The earthenware urn crashed to the ground, littering the ground with shards. The liquid once contained in the urn flowed out into the earth. The earth drank greedily of it and Jono’s blood.
Platter. Platter. Platter.
The warm wetness flowed down his stinging back. He bit his tongue to keep from screaming. His head swam from the pain. Sweat ran heavily down the side of his face. This was by far his worse punishment yet.
Jono vaguely recognized the sound of footfall, the footfall of a group of people. They came to a stop right in front of him. At the sight of gilded sandals, Jono knew instantly he was faced with the Pharaoh himself.
The whip, its snapping the only sound he had heard for the last hour, had long fallen silent. The Pharaoh’s voice, rich with infliction and just the slightest bit of hurt, rang through the empty dungeon. “Why again, Jono? What is this? The fourth time? You are clothed and fed. Your life is so much better compared to others.”
Jono remained silent and stared at the blood-speckled floor. What was he to say? That his sister was far too ill? That she would be likely to pass on by the season’s end, if she would even last that long? He was a slave. His loyalty was supposed to belong to the Pharaoh and the Court he served. One did not tell the son of Amun-Ra that he was nowhere as important as one’s family. It was a sacrilegious thought even.
The Pharaoh continued. “You know why you were punished so severely this time. You stole, Jono. You stole from Seth.”
He fought to keep the insolent comments on the tip of his tongue under control. Yes, he had stolen from the damn priest. Perhaps it was partly because of his dislike for the arrogant bastard. Seth’s magic was said to be the strongest of the Seven, after the Pharaoh of course. Jono thought the potion may help save his sister’s life. He had dropped it though.
“Nothing to say, mongrel?”
Jono’s head shot up at the sound of the deep voice speaking those words. “What did you say?!”
The tall priest towered over him as usual. The royal blue attire was clean and form fitting. The millennium Rod was strapped to the priest’s side. Each time Jono saw this man, he couldn’t help but thing about what made him so despicable. A sudden thought of insight flashed through his mind.
“You!” Jono spat. “You read my mind!”
The priest watched him with that impassive expression. “You stole from me.”
Jono was at a lost. He was a thief, no matter what his motivation. He couldn’t help but feel violated by the priest’s intrusion upon the sanctity of his mind. His thoughts were his own and his own alone.
“Jono, this has to stop.”
Jono’s gaze drifted to the Pharaoh. He averted his gaze quickly. The Pharaoh had been good to him but he would betray the man a hundred times over to save his sister.
“If you cannot keep your slaves under control, Per-aa, I cannot see how you can possibly rule an entire kingdom.” Before the Pharaoh could reply, Set cut him off. “Give him to me. I will discipline him. He stole from me, Per-aa, broke a very expensive urn and spilled the potion. It would only be proper compensation.”
Jono held his breath as the Pharaoh debated in silence. He couldn’t imagine his life under Priest Seth as master. The man was absolutely ruthless. He shuddered to think of the possibilities.
“Very well, Seth. You will hold your tongue in the future, Seth.” The Pharaoh leveled his piercing blood red eyes on the priest. “I will not tolerate such disrespect.”
Seth bowed slightly. Jono could see the small smirk that graced the priest’s thin lips. “Of course, Per-aa. Forgive me, Son of Amun-Ra.”
The Pharaoh turned away. “If you mistreat him…” The warning was all too apparent in his tone.
Jono could feel Seth’s gaze drill into his skull. He refused to look up. He refused to let the priest see his anxiety.
“I know very well the price of mistreating slaves, Per-aa. The Hem will come to no harm with me.”
Jono wasn’t going to stop. He was needed at home. Not at this gilded palace with its false facades and forced smiles. He knew the intrigue that crawled under everyone’s skin, just beneath the surface. He longed for the comfort of home, his mother’s voice and his sister’s embrace…
Per-aa: The original title that Pharaoh was derived from by the Greeks
Hem (Hm): meaning "body" but translated as slave mostly
As you probably noticed, I set up some plot devices any of the other authors might want to use later on. Please forgive me for my myth references I stuck in. If anyone is interested, I recommend reading about Egyptian slavery here.
Final thought: We in much need of a title!
*goes to hide in a corner and prepare for flames...*
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no subject
Date: 2004-07-12 01:10 pm (UTC)I noticed that no one's mentioned anything about Jono trying to go back home. I guess I'll have to say something about that...
Great chapter, by the way. Nice way to start us off!