#mahaado

Let me celebrate his birthday (July 26) with some prideshipping feels based from @pixel_galaxies2 's fic, Conspire to Ignite (fic link here)

Chapter 2

             Aglaia woke in a slightly better temper. She nibbled at her breakfast tray, ignoring the beef and lentils in favor of the apple and bread. She had heard from her father that the Pharaoh wished for her to spend time with his son, to get to know him. It made sense, but she did not want to spend her days cooped up in the temple-library, learning his language! Nonetheless, it was vital that she learn, for how else would she communicate with him?

           Atemu gazed at her for a moment before he returned to the scroll he was studying. He could hear the soft whisper of the ostrich feather fan Mahaado was fanning her with. It was an oddly soothing sound. Despite the early spring weather, the Princess had brought along her servant to fan her, claiming that she was unused to the oppressive heat. Atemu wondered how she would fare when the strong rays of summer came upon the land and Ra’s golden boat drew closer. He still did not know why Mahaado wore hooded robes, but at the moment, he had history to study, and he would at least try to pay attention.

           Mahaado watched as the Princess picked up her reed pen, scowling as she attempted to copy the hieroglyphics. How her hand ached to hold a pen, to write upon the thin plaster, to trace those few symbols her mother had shown her as scratches in the dirt. How she ached to learn more of her mother tongue. But she remained silent, and fanned, and listened.

             Hours later, the lessons for the day ended. Atemu stretched, as did several of the other students, although the priest in charge of the day’s lesson scowled at them and warned them that if he caught them slacking off, they would feel the rod. Aglaia was ill-tempered from the lesson, as the priest that had been tutoring her had said that a child could have done better. Her body ached despite the many embroidered silk cushions she had sat upon, and she felt sticky with sweat even with the fan.

           She retired to her chambers, eager to relax. Atemu had no such recourse. He had further lessons in the courtyard.

           Archery was the lesson for the day, and he concentrated as best he could. Although he had a specially made bow because he was too weak to draw the standard ones, every arrow hit its target and the guardsman in charge of practice grunted in approval.

           He found his way to the kitchens, wondering if he would see Mahaado again, but he did not, although he did claim a handful of dried dates.

           He sensed that she had many secrets, and he ached to unravel them all…

             Several days passed. That evening, Atemu had reluctantly accompanied Aglaia to the royal gardens. His father had hinted that he was not spending enough time with his betrothed, and so, he had invited her to tour the royal gardens once the heat of day had passed. Aglaia seemed content for the moment, exclaiming over the beautiful blooms, and she had even haltingly managed to say Flower and Beautiful in his language. That was progress.

           Mahaado trailed them, a silent shadow. They had paused under a fig tree, laden with flowers, and Aglaia had reached up to pick one for her hair. She had unknowingly disturbed a poisonous serpent in the branches, and Mahaado had shoved the Princess aside, getting bitten herself. Aglaia screamed.

           Atemu gasped as the serpent slithered away. He recognized the snake for its poison. If not treated swiftly, such was fatal. Before he knew what he was doing, he had put his mouth to Mahaado’s wound and was sucking out the poison.

           “P-Prince…” Mahaado stared at him, wide-eyed. Her hood had fallen back, exposing her shaved head. Atemu ignored it as he kept sucking, before spitting out the poison. Just then, several royal guards came running. Atemu reassured them that he and the Princess were unharmed, and sent several of them to search for the asp and remove it from the royal gardens.

           Aglaia finally recovered from her paralysis, and tore a strip of linen from her chiton. She handed it to Atemu to wipe his mouth with.

           “Prince, why did you save me?” Mahaado asked, unable to stop herself. As a servant – almost a slave – her life was worth little, and yet Atemu had risked death himself to help her… From that moment on, she swore she would serve him loyally, as she served her Princess.

           “Because you are a human, and you bleed, as I bleed.” Atemu said.

           Aglaia shook her head in disagreement and said something in Greek.

“This one is only a servant, Prince.” Mahaado translated, looking down. “And it is a servant’s duty to die for their Master.”

 Atemu frowned. “And perhaps, in another life, there will be no such things as Masters and Servants, but all will be equal.” He would have said more, but Aglaia turned her back to leave and ordered Mahaado to follow her. The girl obeyed, and Atemu watched her go. Now he had time to wonder why she was bald. Had she committed some heinous crime?

Surely she was not like the women of court, who shaved their heads to wear fine wigs…

And she was thin, far too thin, he thought as he remembered holding her arm. She worked hard, and yet, the Princess did not seem to treat her that well. True, a servant had to serve their master loyally, but Mahaado had saved Aglaia’s life, had she not? And not a single word of thanks…

He would investigate the matter further, he resolved.

 The next morning, he woke up extra early so he could wait in the kitchens. His persistence was rewarded, as Mahaado came to prepare a tray of breakfast for the Princess, as she did almost every morning.

           Mahaado flushed when she saw Atemu, but he stopped her before she knelt again.

           “My Prince…” She swallowed. “I will never be able to repay your kindness, but I will serve you to the best of my ability, as I serve the Princess.”

           “Thank you, Mahaado,” Atemu smiled. “I know that you will keep your promise.” He frowned as he studied her. Her loose robes could not hide her slender body or her graceful walk. He noticed her eyes wandering around the trays of food placed within his easy reach, and he saw hunger in them, even as she turned and began to make up a tray for the Princess.

           He picked up a handful of honeyed almonds and offered them to her. Mahaado froze; her sea-green eyes wide. She took them with trembling hands and was about to place them on the tray, when Atemu shook his head.

             “No, Mahaado,” He smiled. “These are for you.”

           “Prince…” She hesitated, clearly torn between hunger and fear. “This food is for the nobles, not for the servants.”

           “Eat them,” He said, smiling. “I want you to have them. Must I command you to eat them when you are clearly hungry?”

           Mahaado waited for another second, before she thanked him and began to eat. Atemu watched, feeling a pang in his heart. He did not want to see her hungry. He did not know why he cared for this servant, but he offered her salted fish and bread, which she accepted. Too soon, however, she had to leave to bring breakfast to the Princess.

           He would see her again, though, at lessons, and for that, he was grateful.

             Atemu waved away a fly that had almost settled on his nose as he practiced his penmanship. Priest Fakhir had once been a royal scribe, and he had many strong words to say about the importance of every hieroglyphic, how each stroke must be perfected. He could hear the man lecturing the Princess, as Mahaado translated.

           “Why must I learn this?” Aglaia demanded. “When I am Princess, I shall have royal scribes of my own to write for me.”

           Priest Fakhir’s eyebrows rose. “And you would place your trust in mere men when the fate of nations can ride on the stroke of a pen?”

           Aglaia paused, thinking about the question. Although young, she had seen glimmers of court intrigue and was aware of the power of greed. “No, but I do have a servant who I can trust.” She smiled, although it was not sweet. “Mahaado!”

           Mahaado kept fanning, slowly. “What is your command, Princess?”

           “This servant will not betray me,” Aglaia said haughtily. “And she is of your country. Teach her instead.”

             “A servant,” Priest Fakhir tilted his head to the side, considering the girl. She had intelligent enough eyes, he supposed. And certainly, she already spoke their language. It would be an exception, but there were a few other young women taking lessons, priestesses in training, one who might one day wear the Sennen Tauk. Nonetheless, he refused to stray from the path his Pharaoh had laid out. Akunumkanon wanted a Great Royal Wife for his son, who could rule at his side, the Isis to his Horus, and that demanded not only grace and beauty, but also a keen mind.

           “If it is your wish, I shall certainly teach your servant as well, Princess,” Fakhir spoke slowly. “However, it is the Pharaoh’s decree that you progress in your lessons as Atemu does.”

           Aglaia felt her temper rising, but she dared not contradict the man further. His stern gaze warned her that such would bring no profit, so she silently vowed she would punish him when she became Queen. Until then, she would endure.

           Priest Fakhir brought a reed pen, a cake of black ink, and a sycamore palette covered with a thin layer of plaster to the astonished Mahaado, who was still grasping the ostrich feather fan. “Come with me,” He said abruptly. Mahaado carefully set the fan down as Aglaia called for another slave to come fan her. One brawny young man dressed in a simple shenti quickly obeyed.

           Aglaia glared balefully at the hieroglyphics, picked up her pen, and began to write slowly. One day…

             Mahaado was still stunned as Priest Fakhir led her into his office. “Before I begin your tutelage, let me test your capability.” He said. Mahaado nodded mutely, still unable to believe her good fortune. Isis must have responded to her prayer! Prince Atemu had fed her, and now she could even attend lessons with the Princess!

           Priest Fakhir reached for a scroll. He unwound it, showing Mahaado the hieroglyphics at the top. “Read this to me.”

           Mahaado stared for a moment, before she almost whispered out the words. “May Thoth’s baboon protect the royal scribe?”

           Priest Fakhir smiled. “So you did have the beginnings of learning. I wondered.” He said no more, but continued to test her on the hieroglyphics. As they proceeded deeper into the scroll, Mahaado faltered, but he did not seem angry. He now knew how to proceed.

           She certainly knew more than the Princess, so he would tutor them separately, he decided. And from the expression on her face as he had handed her the writing tools, she would not be a lazy student. That was all he needed to know.

           Pharaoh Akunumkanon received the news with slight surprise, but conceded that there was no harm in teaching the Princess’s servant, as long as Priest Fakhir remained competent in his duties to teach those more deserving, the Prince and Princess and future priests and scribes. What was one more servant?

           Aglaia retired early that evening, but Mahaado stayed up for several hours, tracing symbols with her pen on the palette, over and over. She had no shrine in her quarters, but she set up a small piece of wood with the symbol of the tyet, the knot of Isis, and offered beer and barley bread to the goddess, in thankfulness.

           Morning dawned, and Mahaado woke eagerly, wishing to see the Prince again, and perhaps, along with the Princess’s breakfast, she could bring back a more fitting offering for the goddess. She performed her morning prayers hastily, dressed in a clean robe and headed to the kitchens. To her delight, Atemu was there.

           “Mahaado,” He smiled at her, and she hastily bowed.

           “Prince,” She replied, almost as an equal, but her eyes were properly lowered to the floor as decorum intended. She should not hunger for more, and yet…

             Atemu smiled, and handed her a flat cake made of dried fruit. Such was surely fit for an offering to Isis, as they were similar to the ones dedicated to the temples. She thanked him and tucked it into her robe. He frowned when he saw that she did not eat, and offered her another, which she took gratefully. However, a moment later, Eudora entered the kitchens, frowning when she spotted Mahaado.

           “Are you still dawdling, lazy one? The Princess has woken and where is her breakfast?”

           Mahaado froze and hastily began to assemble a tray, placing the cake upon it. Eudora, eagle-eyed, had not missed the fact that she was holding it, and would never have allowed her to take it herself.

           Atemu frowned, but did not reprimand the elder servant. He would observe, he decided. As Mahaado left with a tray heavily laden, he hoped that she would eat the other cake. He nibbled on the one he had taken for himself.

             At lessons, Mahaado looked pale, but Atemu could only spare her a glance, for Priest Labib had caught him when he fumbled one of the lines he had been reciting from the Book of the Dead and was now forcing him to repeat the entire section from memory until he had every word perfect.

           He was weary when the lessons ended. If not for the fact that he was Prince, Priest Labib might have beaten him, for he had made several other mistakes. He had seen several of his royal companions smirking at him. No doubt they would have snide remarks to make.

           Seto chided Atemu for his distraction, while Karim said nothing. Jalal and Hatim snickered nastily.

           “Thinking of your betrothed, Atemu?” Hatim sneered. “She is as a pomegranate blossom in bloom. Small wonder your mind was distracted!”

           Atemu refused to answer, knowing that a negative answer would provoke even more questioning while a positive answer would cause them to continue their teasing.

           Jalal reached over to ruffle Atemu’s spiky hair. “She may be a fine woman, but will you be a man for her?”

           Atemu pulled away, not wishing to quarrel. Those two were the sons of noblemen, and delighted in teasing him. He would not pull rank on them, for his father, the Pharaoh, had warned him years ago that he must fight his own battles.

             Aglaia was not pleased, for Priest Fakhir had set a simple exercise for her to copy and had spent almost half an hour working with Mahaado. How dare he waste his time on a mere servant instead of tending to her? But she could not punish him, so when she returned to her quarters, she declared that Mahaado would receive no evening meal for her insolence.

           Mahaado bowed low, and turned to leave. Penelope bit her tongue. She knew that Princess Aglaia treated Mahaado harshly, but could not understand why. Nonetheless, she spoke no words, afraid for her own position.

           Princess Aglaia then ordered Mahaado to begin her tasks as she took Penelope with her out to visit the royal menagerie, as Atemu had sent an invitation. The servant drew a bucket of water and began to clean the chamber thoroughly, for dust and sand had drifted in through the open windows. Eudora helped, but did not speak. For two hours they toiled, before the room was clean.

             Princess Aglaia had not returned, but Mahaado prepared her evening meal from the kitchens, and then set it out for her. She prepared a bath and laid out her clothing. She rarely helped the Princess bathe, for Aglaia preferred Penelope’s gentle hands. When at last the Princess returned, Aglaia dismissed her.

           Mahaado returned to her room. Ignoring the grumbling in her stomach, she laid the cake of fruits before Isis, said her prayers, and ate her ration of barley bread and beer.

           Perhaps one day, Aglaia would no longer hate her…

End Chapter

Started 2/8/15

Completed 2/9/15

… I hope the canon characters weren’t too OOC…