[Fic] Thieves Have No Honor - alter!Castleshipping
Well, maybe not Castleshipping...
Rather, the unnamed (as far as I know) Atem/Set/Jono shipping...
It'd be in AEAU, 'course...
ZE BEGINNING
"The wagon what?"
The servant cowered at the threatening coldness that was the High Priest's question. The Pharaoh came to his rescue, stepping between the two and subtly beckoning the servant to go.
"Set, there's no problem. Just a small, minor setback, is all," Atem soothed. The brunet closed his eyes, jaws set with fury, taking deep breaths to calm down.
"Those worthless servants..." he growled, clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides. "I have told them, specifically, to check and make sure all preparations were ready. Pathetic scoundrels."
"It' no big deal," the Pharaoh continued, flashing a small grin over his oblivious cousin's shoulder at his own personal servant, who smiled uncertainly back. "Small delay. We'll still be back in time for the feast."
After a tense moment, Set finally sighed, his verdict being a sharp glare at the group of servants clustered around the wagon's many wheels, covering some with sheets of leather or even replacing them as a whole. Atem sighed in relief, then looked wearily down at the chasm beside the cliff the group came to rest on. Despite his own comforting words for his cousin, the Pharaoh couldn't help but feel a sense of forebode (no, it was not fear. Pharaohs don't feel fear) at their precarious position.
As if to set some ominous plan in motion, thunder sounded across the cloudless sky to mark the beginning of yet another rainless storm within Egypt. Atem watched through his peripheral vision as Set followed his look up to the sky, worry clearly written in his azure eyes. For his little brother, no doubt. Atem couldn't help a smile at this soft side of his usually stoic cousin.
Then came part to of the Unknown Ominous Plan.
The beating of a horse's hooves against sand and rock was no less muted by the thunder than the chatter and yelps of the servants were. All eyes immediately snapped towards the source of the sound -- a black hooded figure mounted upon a large black mustang, galloping for the group at top speed. Atem's first reaction towards this was a widening of eyes, then was horribly tempted to roll his brilliant crimson eyes at Set's hand, tensing around the hilt of his sword. There was no time for a third reaction though, until after the stranger had reached his side and pulled him up to hang beside him. Atem clasped tightly onto the horse's rein, glaring up at the culprit hoping to intimidate his kidnapper into releasing him, only to find...
A pair of apologetic chocolate eyes.
Those eyes only held his gaze for one brief moment, before turning back sharply to assess the thundering approach (no puns intended) of another horse. Without needing to look back (yet he did anyways), Atem knew immediately that it was Set, always the diligent protector, minus sarcastic comments and all.
"Put the Pharaoh down!"
Atem could feel his captor flinch ever so slightly at the cold steel of Set's order, and couldn't fight a smirk that threatened to break free. A, speaking of breaking free, perhaps he should mark that as his first priority. Though tumbling to the rocky floor didn't sound fun (thank Ra they were fairly within the protruding edge so he was in no danger of rolling within the chasm), being kidnapped and more than likely further humiliated was higher on his "Don't Want to Ever Do" list. Atem immediately started struggling against his captor's hold on him. This threw the kidnapper's balance off, and he teetered threateningly on the side of the saddle. The horse slowed as well, and Set's steed gained quickly. With a single slash of his sword, the High Priest had the captor tumbling down to the ground.
Atem braced himself for impact, and opened his eyes curiously when none came. The first thing he saw was Set, flipping dramatically off his horse (whether intentionally or not, Atem didn't want to know) and racing towards him. Next was the grunt of pain beneath him as his now-unmasked captor retracted his arms that circled the Pharaoh safely when he acted as a shield between him and the ground. Atem looked over his kidnapper -- now savior -- in shock. Sun-kissed hair floated around a slightly boyish, handsome face, which was pale with the pain of Set's cut. Those magnificent eyes glared weakly at the High Priest as Set yanked the Pharaoh out of his arms, glaring right back.
"What is the meaning of this?" Atem gathered enough wits to order. To his surprise, when those eyes turned back to him, they were filmed with worry and doubt once more. The blond wobbled unsteadily as he stood up, bracing himself against the cliff wall behind him, and Atem found a sudden urge to reach out and help him. His hands even went as far as clenching before he realized what he was doing, and instead clutched at Set's forearm with a grit of his teeth.
The High Priest looked down at his cousin in surprise. It wasn't like Atem to show weakness in front of an audience, no matter how hurt he was. Further more, the Pharaoh wasn't even hurt! So that means that this clutching was to mask something else, something he perceived as a greater weakness. The question was, what?
Set immediately got his answer as he glanced at the kidnapper. His black cloak had fallen away to reveal a physique as honed as Set's own, with bronze-colored skin too light to be completely Egyptian. Crimson blood stained a patch of the cloth around his waist and the rock behind him, and guilt suddenly overwhelmed the High Priest at causing this semi-foreign beauty the agony worth the amount of tremors that ran through that perfect body. Set watched, transfixed, as the Pharaoh's ex-captor swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing slightly, and turned to answer Atem's question.
But as soon as his words got out, they were swallowed by the massive rumble of tumbling rocks and boulders above them. Set caught a look of horror on the blond's face before his survival (and protection) instincts snapped in. Immediately, he pushed the Pharaoh onto his horse, following quickly. To his surprise, the kidnapper had mounted his own horse, and turned to face Set. Brown and blue met, and Set found himself, through an adrenaline-filled haze (quite ironic, he knew), following the stranger on his black horse, one hand on the rein, one hand tight around the Pharaoh's waist as the rumble grew louder behind them, as if speaking directly to Set, mocking him for not being able to save those important to him. That drove the High Priest on even more, as he followed the teetering stranger with a determined pace, eyes focused solely on the blood-stained back of the blond and nothing else.
Though he understood it was no time for feelings of such, Atem couldn't help but feel relieved and comforted with Set's warmth pressed comfortably against his back and his arm locking them together. Not that Atem was a big fan of being anything like a damsel in distress, but being in the High Priest's arms somehow never fails to turn him into a puddle of Egyptian Pharaoh Goop, melting into his cousin's strength. But one thing kept him from going completely limp -- the blond ahead, leading them. Somehow, he had miraculously gained Set's trust in a brief second, persuading the usually suspicious brunet to follow him at this time of crisis. That took something else altogether, much less a miracle. Perhaps Set had noticed the same thing Atem had; the perfect way those (bloodied) muscle and taut skin moved in perfect sync, driving his horse along the precariously shaking cliffs around them. The beads of sweat that ran down that body washed rivulets of blurred red on the patch of glistening blood on his back and down the cloth that wrapped around his waist to cover him modestly, though there was nothing modest about the way those legs clenched tightly around the horse's flank, about the strangely arousing curve of his back as he urged his horse on...
Just as the Pharaoh's mind started wandering towards forbidden territory, the blond seemed to disappear from sight for a brief second, making his heart skip a beat. Atem then realized at the same time Set had that the blond had merely turned into a dark crevice in the wall of the cliffs that was otherwise invisible unless one had been looking for it. Set turned and followed him, and not a moment too soon either. The second cool darkness surrounded them, the chasing boulders slammed across the entrance, blocking their way out. For a long minute, the cave was filled with three men, breathing at their own pace. Even if Atem hadn't been so familiar with Set's heavy breathing, he knew the most shallow, hurried breathing belonged to the stranger, and couldn't help a budding sense of worry for his kidnapper.
Soon, both the Pharaoh and the High Priest had caught their breaths, and dared approach the shaking body of the blond. Atem jumped slightly when he heard the blond's choked words.
"My bag... torch... Pocket... matches..." he coughed. Without a sound, Set stood from his crouch to grab said torch from the saddlebag of the mustang, while Atem reached inside the blond's pocket for the matches, feeling the fevered skin of their savior against his fingertips. He busied himself with lighting a match to hide his worried look, and realized too late that his expression would be further highlighted by the flickering flame. Set offered him a bemused look before turning onto the blond, making the Pharaoh blush profusely.
"Lean forward," was Set's order. Too tired to argue, the blond complied, revealing the deep wound against his back.
Rather, the unnamed (as far as I know) Atem/Set/Jono shipping...
It'd be in AEAU, 'course...
ZE BEGINNING
"The wagon what?"
The servant cowered at the threatening coldness that was the High Priest's question. The Pharaoh came to his rescue, stepping between the two and subtly beckoning the servant to go.
"Set, there's no problem. Just a small, minor setback, is all," Atem soothed. The brunet closed his eyes, jaws set with fury, taking deep breaths to calm down.
"Those worthless servants..." he growled, clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides. "I have told them, specifically, to check and make sure all preparations were ready. Pathetic scoundrels."
"It' no big deal," the Pharaoh continued, flashing a small grin over his oblivious cousin's shoulder at his own personal servant, who smiled uncertainly back. "Small delay. We'll still be back in time for the feast."
After a tense moment, Set finally sighed, his verdict being a sharp glare at the group of servants clustered around the wagon's many wheels, covering some with sheets of leather or even replacing them as a whole. Atem sighed in relief, then looked wearily down at the chasm beside the cliff the group came to rest on. Despite his own comforting words for his cousin, the Pharaoh couldn't help but feel a sense of forebode (no, it was not fear. Pharaohs don't feel fear) at their precarious position.
As if to set some ominous plan in motion, thunder sounded across the cloudless sky to mark the beginning of yet another rainless storm within Egypt. Atem watched through his peripheral vision as Set followed his look up to the sky, worry clearly written in his azure eyes. For his little brother, no doubt. Atem couldn't help a smile at this soft side of his usually stoic cousin.
Then came part to of the Unknown Ominous Plan.
The beating of a horse's hooves against sand and rock was no less muted by the thunder than the chatter and yelps of the servants were. All eyes immediately snapped towards the source of the sound -- a black hooded figure mounted upon a large black mustang, galloping for the group at top speed. Atem's first reaction towards this was a widening of eyes, then was horribly tempted to roll his brilliant crimson eyes at Set's hand, tensing around the hilt of his sword. There was no time for a third reaction though, until after the stranger had reached his side and pulled him up to hang beside him. Atem clasped tightly onto the horse's rein, glaring up at the culprit hoping to intimidate his kidnapper into releasing him, only to find...
A pair of apologetic chocolate eyes.
Those eyes only held his gaze for one brief moment, before turning back sharply to assess the thundering approach (no puns intended) of another horse. Without needing to look back (yet he did anyways), Atem knew immediately that it was Set, always the diligent protector, minus sarcastic comments and all.
"Put the Pharaoh down!"
Atem could feel his captor flinch ever so slightly at the cold steel of Set's order, and couldn't fight a smirk that threatened to break free. A, speaking of breaking free, perhaps he should mark that as his first priority. Though tumbling to the rocky floor didn't sound fun (thank Ra they were fairly within the protruding edge so he was in no danger of rolling within the chasm), being kidnapped and more than likely further humiliated was higher on his "Don't Want to Ever Do" list. Atem immediately started struggling against his captor's hold on him. This threw the kidnapper's balance off, and he teetered threateningly on the side of the saddle. The horse slowed as well, and Set's steed gained quickly. With a single slash of his sword, the High Priest had the captor tumbling down to the ground.
Atem braced himself for impact, and opened his eyes curiously when none came. The first thing he saw was Set, flipping dramatically off his horse (whether intentionally or not, Atem didn't want to know) and racing towards him. Next was the grunt of pain beneath him as his now-unmasked captor retracted his arms that circled the Pharaoh safely when he acted as a shield between him and the ground. Atem looked over his kidnapper -- now savior -- in shock. Sun-kissed hair floated around a slightly boyish, handsome face, which was pale with the pain of Set's cut. Those magnificent eyes glared weakly at the High Priest as Set yanked the Pharaoh out of his arms, glaring right back.
"What is the meaning of this?" Atem gathered enough wits to order. To his surprise, when those eyes turned back to him, they were filmed with worry and doubt once more. The blond wobbled unsteadily as he stood up, bracing himself against the cliff wall behind him, and Atem found a sudden urge to reach out and help him. His hands even went as far as clenching before he realized what he was doing, and instead clutched at Set's forearm with a grit of his teeth.
The High Priest looked down at his cousin in surprise. It wasn't like Atem to show weakness in front of an audience, no matter how hurt he was. Further more, the Pharaoh wasn't even hurt! So that means that this clutching was to mask something else, something he perceived as a greater weakness. The question was, what?
Set immediately got his answer as he glanced at the kidnapper. His black cloak had fallen away to reveal a physique as honed as Set's own, with bronze-colored skin too light to be completely Egyptian. Crimson blood stained a patch of the cloth around his waist and the rock behind him, and guilt suddenly overwhelmed the High Priest at causing this semi-foreign beauty the agony worth the amount of tremors that ran through that perfect body. Set watched, transfixed, as the Pharaoh's ex-captor swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing slightly, and turned to answer Atem's question.
But as soon as his words got out, they were swallowed by the massive rumble of tumbling rocks and boulders above them. Set caught a look of horror on the blond's face before his survival (and protection) instincts snapped in. Immediately, he pushed the Pharaoh onto his horse, following quickly. To his surprise, the kidnapper had mounted his own horse, and turned to face Set. Brown and blue met, and Set found himself, through an adrenaline-filled haze (quite ironic, he knew), following the stranger on his black horse, one hand on the rein, one hand tight around the Pharaoh's waist as the rumble grew louder behind them, as if speaking directly to Set, mocking him for not being able to save those important to him. That drove the High Priest on even more, as he followed the teetering stranger with a determined pace, eyes focused solely on the blood-stained back of the blond and nothing else.
Though he understood it was no time for feelings of such, Atem couldn't help but feel relieved and comforted with Set's warmth pressed comfortably against his back and his arm locking them together. Not that Atem was a big fan of being anything like a damsel in distress, but being in the High Priest's arms somehow never fails to turn him into a puddle of Egyptian Pharaoh Goop, melting into his cousin's strength. But one thing kept him from going completely limp -- the blond ahead, leading them. Somehow, he had miraculously gained Set's trust in a brief second, persuading the usually suspicious brunet to follow him at this time of crisis. That took something else altogether, much less a miracle. Perhaps Set had noticed the same thing Atem had; the perfect way those (bloodied) muscle and taut skin moved in perfect sync, driving his horse along the precariously shaking cliffs around them. The beads of sweat that ran down that body washed rivulets of blurred red on the patch of glistening blood on his back and down the cloth that wrapped around his waist to cover him modestly, though there was nothing modest about the way those legs clenched tightly around the horse's flank, about the strangely arousing curve of his back as he urged his horse on...
Just as the Pharaoh's mind started wandering towards forbidden territory, the blond seemed to disappear from sight for a brief second, making his heart skip a beat. Atem then realized at the same time Set had that the blond had merely turned into a dark crevice in the wall of the cliffs that was otherwise invisible unless one had been looking for it. Set turned and followed him, and not a moment too soon either. The second cool darkness surrounded them, the chasing boulders slammed across the entrance, blocking their way out. For a long minute, the cave was filled with three men, breathing at their own pace. Even if Atem hadn't been so familiar with Set's heavy breathing, he knew the most shallow, hurried breathing belonged to the stranger, and couldn't help a budding sense of worry for his kidnapper.
Soon, both the Pharaoh and the High Priest had caught their breaths, and dared approach the shaking body of the blond. Atem jumped slightly when he heard the blond's choked words.
"My bag... torch... Pocket... matches..." he coughed. Without a sound, Set stood from his crouch to grab said torch from the saddlebag of the mustang, while Atem reached inside the blond's pocket for the matches, feeling the fevered skin of their savior against his fingertips. He busied himself with lighting a match to hide his worried look, and realized too late that his expression would be further highlighted by the flickering flame. Set offered him a bemused look before turning onto the blond, making the Pharaoh blush profusely.
"Lean forward," was Set's order. Too tired to argue, the blond complied, revealing the deep wound against his back.