Omens of the Nile Chapter 2
Title: Omens of the Nile : By Poseidon's Will
Author: LediShae
Series/Verse: Transformers AU
Kink OP and/or Prompt: 's Egypt prompt and WOI #19: 2. AU
Disclaimer: I own nothing, sadly not even the idea.
Summary: Akhetaton, capitol of Egypt, prays with each rising sun for a terrible curse upon Pharaoh’s sons to break. A prophecy from their birth tells of an idol the white and red colors of the Dual Crown that offers their only hope of salvation. With the time before their curse is complete running like the sands of the Sahara, will a slave of Knossos save them before it is too late? Quasi-human-formers, AU, slight OOC, historical fiction.
A/N: Historical fiction as in a lot of things happening at the same time that were really centuries or millinea apart in reality.
Warnings: Mentions of death.
"Irnicleas," The woman working the intricate loom turned her dusky skin and dark hazel eyes alighting on her beloved husband. She smiled lovingly at him, seeing him as few others did.
"Good hunting?" She levered herself up from her loom, leaving the still in process baby blanket unfinished. Hands upon her swollen belly she approached her husband, kissing him lightly as she took the fresh deer from his work worn hands.
"Good enough," He smiled, dark doe brown eyes watching her lovingly as she moved. Irnicleas smiled as she skinned the animal, thanking Athena for her husband's good fortune. "Jack?" She looked over at her husband, a descendent of the earth-bound Gods given the form of the wild hill hares to show his divinity. "Your brother is worried for our child."
"About what?" Jack asked worriedly, strong hands covered in a light brush of white fur embracing her waist cautiously, one hand lying warmly over her bulging stomach. "I did not know he had returned from Athens."
"He came by earlier, he said our child was troubled within the womb, and that signs from the Gods bespoke of death, not birth."
"Then I will travel to the temple of Zeus and Artemis tomorrow. I will leave old Celias and one of the younger goats as offering." He smiled bravely down at her, holding her gaze unflinchingly with his own.
"So many? Jack, we have but six goats and Celias is our best milk goat." Irnicleas frowned, hand unconsciously rubbing the side of her stomach.
"I would give the Gods everything, throw myself to the sirens and offer my bones to Hades himself if it would ensure you and our child were safe."
"I am with child Wheeljack!" Irnicleas giggled, "I'm not going off to fight Troy, or face the Cyclops."
"Let me worry," Jack smiled, "Or would you rather I become bored and make amber explode once more?"
"No! Not again, Ratchet may think your eccentricities are normal but I will not have my jewelry becoming missiles to earn Zeus' wrath for your insatiable curiosity." She laughed heartily. The couple attended their chores until darkness fell, each toiling within their home well into night and sought their shared bed.
"I am so sorry," Ratchet groaned in agony as he let his head fall into his hands, cradling his face as tears fell freely.
"The Gods' will be done." Wheeljack rasped as he held the tiny bundle to his chest weeping silently for what had been given and that which the Gods had taken. Numb he could only focus on the cold hand he still held wishing it had been him lying in the ruined marriage bed soaked with blood.
"Come, both of you, let us do our work." Strong hands pulled the brothers from Irnecleas' pale corpse, forcing them into the brilliant sunlight beyond. The women of the village attended the body bathing her pale skin and placing fragrant oils in her hair. Tonight Irnecleas would be burned upon her funeral pyre attended by her new son, husband and beloved brother-in-law.
"Look, Perceptor, this is your home. This, is Petra." Wheeljack spoke hoarsely but with pride as he unwrapped the tiny coral colored infant in his hands, holding up the nude child to the sun and the sky letting the new born witness the vast beauty of the scrub-clothed rolling hills and distant glimmering sea that made up the southern shore of Hellias.
"Your son is healthy, and beautiful." Ratchet stroked his thumb lovingly over the baby's satiny cheek still damp from birth. "I am so sorry I could not save her." Ratchet withdrew his hand from Perceptor's face, looking at the natural red fur on his hands still stained a dark maroon-ish hue from Irneclea's lifeblood and birth fluids as her life was traded for Perceptor's.
Wheeljack scowled as he wrapped Perceptor snugly in his blanket, the one Irnecleas wove on her loom for him. He turned on Ratchet, son cradled in one hand, the other grabbing Ratchet's long ears just above the jade ornament he wore about their base. "Did you choose not to save my wife?"
"Of course not, but there must have been something I could have done!" Ratchet cried dark doe eyes fleck with crimson and gold that made him appear wild with the spirit of Ares burning in his gaze.
"Did you give Irneclease a potion to make her bleed out in birth? Did you stop her breath and still her heart?" Jack demanded, shaking his brother by the ears fiercly.
"No! I did everything I could." Ratchet looked up to his younger half-brother's gaze, breath stilling at the calm grief that shone from his brother's eyes.
"Then it was the will of the Gods. Blame Athena for taking my offering, Artemis and not guarding my wife. Blame Somnos for closing her eyes and Thantanos for stilling her heart. Blame Hades for taking her soul to the underworld but never, ever blame yourself. I lost my wife today, but you gave me my son, alive. The midwife declared him to be stillborn within the womb. You brought him forth breathing, and for that I will thank the Gods for the rest of my life."
What strength Ratchet had as he tried to be strong for his brother left him at the stern forgiveness he was given and he sank to his knees, tears of grief for the loss of his beloved sister-in-law finally being loosed. Regardless of his brother's words he still blamed himself. The seed of the descendents of the Olympians was known to be too strong for the mortal womb. He should have forbade a child from their union, or given Irnecleas a potion to keep her from conceiving such a child. Then she would still live, but if he had, the tiny floppy eared infant would not now lie in his brother's arms.
He looked to Wheeljack, watching his brother transform in the span of a heartbeat from the absent-minded daydreaming thinker to this strong, father already willing to give everything for his child. "Then I will thank them for allowing me to do so." Ratchet rasped thickly, eyes misting as the tears finally fell for the life he failed to save.
"Perceptor!" Wheeljack summoned, calling his inquisitive son away from the bustling market square and hostile, staring faces of foreigners. The sea port of Kommos welcomed travelers from across Helios, Macedonia, Rhodes and Thrace, but Wheeljack Ratchet and Perceptor were the rarely witnessed descendents of the Gods, and few men trusted the images of walking beasts.
The men of the various ships stared and made signs of warding as the god-descended trio passed. All three spoke the flowing speech of the Athenians and all bore the appearance of the hare. Tall, they walked on paws that showed sharp claws with each step over the flat sole of the common sandals they wore strapped over their paws. Ratchet, the white hare with red hands wore the low cut kilt and prominent cod piece favored by the men of Minoa. Wheeljack, equally white with tufts of fur upon his chest colored turquoise blue and jasper green wore the long loose robes of Athens. Perceptor just wore the short kilt of the Spartans, Wheeljack's mother's people as he ran about innocently ignoring the strange men who bore neither fangs nor claws nor fur or feathers, but the simple skin of mortal birth.
"Father?" Perceptor finally ceased his explorations and walked between Wheeljack and Ratchet, "Did mother look like them?" He asked, twitching an ear towards the men gleaming sweat and stinking of hard work and the sea that worked the docks.
"Yes, she was mortal, and as beautiful as any graced by Aphrodite." Wheeljack smiled down at his son proudly, firm hand ruffling the too long, floppy ears that had yet to stiffen making his son resemble the floppy bunnies no God had ever taken the form of.
"Why are we here?" Ratchet finally asked suspiciously, "Kommos is a fine port, but why a sea port at all? We could have viewed the trade ports of Helios, or Rhodes or even Heraklion to the north if you were so desperate to see the land of Minos."
"Well, I've heard that this area is much beloved by Posidon, and I have yet to venerate him for my great blessing." Wheeljack replied with a sad smile.
"It has been six years, brother, you have offered thanks to all of Olympus. Must we keep seeking each temple and shrine?" Ratchet sighed already knowing he would be making his own offering to the god of the sea.
"None interfered with your efforts, and Perceptor is alive. That is enough to garner my gratitude." Wheeljack replied.
Perceptor looked from father to uncle and knew he had caused this trip. The day of his birth had been the day he had murdered his mother. That was why he was the red of the blood coral that came from the sea and held no reminders of his mother. Surely the Gods would have given him her face or figure to keep her memory after her death. Instead he looked just like his father save for his mother's eyes banded with the hues of malachite.
While they walked, listening to the sea Ratchet and Wheeljack spoke of the future and their ever continuing wandering since they had burned down the house Wheeljack had built for Irnicleas when she had consented to be his wife. The stench of blood had never left their home, the echoes of her screams as life left her form had remained in the rafters resounding day and night of her tortured birthing. With the rising flames the burning home had sighed, as if her tortured soul finally found peace in its ashes.
"We could live here." Percy suggested, nodding to the proud men of Knossos with their short kilts that displayed their strong legs and narrow waists. Despite being mere mortals they were nearly as impressive as his uncle Ratchet.
"You would be made to fight for Knossos the moment an enemy arose. Come your twelfth birthday you will be man enough to be a soldier of Crete. Is this what you wish?" Ratchet asked evenly.
Percy's eyes widened in horror as he shook his head emphatically, his wildly swinging ears eliciting snickers from the men on the boats and the docks but he didn't care. He hated fighting, real fighting with swords and javelins. He loved wrestling like his father and uncle but he would always refuse the weapons of war.
Behind them the voices of the men swiftly rose. Shouts and screams in a dozen languages rent the air as the earth hued figures raced from their boats and the sea. Wheeljack turned looking to find the source of the commotion. A niggling fear of a great wave sent from Posidon to steal away his son filled his heart, but the truth stopped it cold. High on the seas with arrows blackening the skies pirates amassed towards the port and the treasure trove of trade goods and slaves sitting on the docks for their taking.
"Run!" Ratchet bellowed forcing his brother and nephew before him. They turned from the docks to race to the nearby safety of the hills and found themselves hemmed in by a rain of arrows blanketing the land between them and safety in death. The amassing barricades of night black arrows kept them from running into the safety of the scrub covered hills.
Ratchet spun facing the disembarking pirates holding up his short eating dagger as his only defense. Behind him Wheeljack pulled his sword and Perceptor pulled his own small dagger, the three standing strong before the approaching pirates as the many sailors and dockworkers huddled upon the sand few brave ones pulling weapons to face the pirate horde.
"Pirate slavers," Ratchet murmured over his shoulder, staring the oncoming men down. "If we fight, they will kill us. If we don't we will never again be free."
"Then we fight," Perceptor replied fearfully, small hand holding his tiny dagger. "Becoming a slave will not honor my mother."
"No, it won't" Wheeljack sighed and hit his son hard on the back of the head knocking him out cold, "But it would only increase her agony in the land of Hades if she learnt of your demise." Wheeljack tossed his weapon aside, slinging Perceptor under his robes and hunching his shoulders like an old man. "I will not stop you from fighting, brother, but I swore on her death bed to save Perceptor."
"So you did," Ratchet sighed, hiding his dagger and falling to his knees in surrender hands held empty and wide, "And so did I."
A/N: This section borrows heavily from a mid nineties version of the Odyssey. I lost the VHS and I can't find exactly which one but it had almost the exact same scene of Odysseus delivering his wife's child and holding him up to the sun to see his home. I always loved that scene and just had to add it.
Chapters : 1
Also on FF.net
Author: LediShae
Series/Verse: Transformers AU
Kink OP and/or Prompt: 's Egypt prompt and WOI #19: 2. AU
Disclaimer: I own nothing, sadly not even the idea.
Summary: Akhetaton, capitol of Egypt, prays with each rising sun for a terrible curse upon Pharaoh’s sons to break. A prophecy from their birth tells of an idol the white and red colors of the Dual Crown that offers their only hope of salvation. With the time before their curse is complete running like the sands of the Sahara, will a slave of Knossos save them before it is too late? Quasi-human-formers, AU, slight OOC, historical fiction.
A/N: Historical fiction as in a lot of things happening at the same time that were really centuries or millinea apart in reality.
Warnings: Mentions of death.
"Irnicleas," The woman working the intricate loom turned her dusky skin and dark hazel eyes alighting on her beloved husband. She smiled lovingly at him, seeing him as few others did.
"Good hunting?" She levered herself up from her loom, leaving the still in process baby blanket unfinished. Hands upon her swollen belly she approached her husband, kissing him lightly as she took the fresh deer from his work worn hands.
"Good enough," He smiled, dark doe brown eyes watching her lovingly as she moved. Irnicleas smiled as she skinned the animal, thanking Athena for her husband's good fortune. "Jack?" She looked over at her husband, a descendent of the earth-bound Gods given the form of the wild hill hares to show his divinity. "Your brother is worried for our child."
"About what?" Jack asked worriedly, strong hands covered in a light brush of white fur embracing her waist cautiously, one hand lying warmly over her bulging stomach. "I did not know he had returned from Athens."
"He came by earlier, he said our child was troubled within the womb, and that signs from the Gods bespoke of death, not birth."
"Then I will travel to the temple of Zeus and Artemis tomorrow. I will leave old Celias and one of the younger goats as offering." He smiled bravely down at her, holding her gaze unflinchingly with his own.
"So many? Jack, we have but six goats and Celias is our best milk goat." Irnicleas frowned, hand unconsciously rubbing the side of her stomach.
"I would give the Gods everything, throw myself to the sirens and offer my bones to Hades himself if it would ensure you and our child were safe."
"I am with child Wheeljack!" Irnicleas giggled, "I'm not going off to fight Troy, or face the Cyclops."
"Let me worry," Jack smiled, "Or would you rather I become bored and make amber explode once more?"
"No! Not again, Ratchet may think your eccentricities are normal but I will not have my jewelry becoming missiles to earn Zeus' wrath for your insatiable curiosity." She laughed heartily. The couple attended their chores until darkness fell, each toiling within their home well into night and sought their shared bed.
"I am so sorry," Ratchet groaned in agony as he let his head fall into his hands, cradling his face as tears fell freely.
"The Gods' will be done." Wheeljack rasped as he held the tiny bundle to his chest weeping silently for what had been given and that which the Gods had taken. Numb he could only focus on the cold hand he still held wishing it had been him lying in the ruined marriage bed soaked with blood.
"Come, both of you, let us do our work." Strong hands pulled the brothers from Irnecleas' pale corpse, forcing them into the brilliant sunlight beyond. The women of the village attended the body bathing her pale skin and placing fragrant oils in her hair. Tonight Irnecleas would be burned upon her funeral pyre attended by her new son, husband and beloved brother-in-law.
"Look, Perceptor, this is your home. This, is Petra." Wheeljack spoke hoarsely but with pride as he unwrapped the tiny coral colored infant in his hands, holding up the nude child to the sun and the sky letting the new born witness the vast beauty of the scrub-clothed rolling hills and distant glimmering sea that made up the southern shore of Hellias.
"Your son is healthy, and beautiful." Ratchet stroked his thumb lovingly over the baby's satiny cheek still damp from birth. "I am so sorry I could not save her." Ratchet withdrew his hand from Perceptor's face, looking at the natural red fur on his hands still stained a dark maroon-ish hue from Irneclea's lifeblood and birth fluids as her life was traded for Perceptor's.
Wheeljack scowled as he wrapped Perceptor snugly in his blanket, the one Irnecleas wove on her loom for him. He turned on Ratchet, son cradled in one hand, the other grabbing Ratchet's long ears just above the jade ornament he wore about their base. "Did you choose not to save my wife?"
"Of course not, but there must have been something I could have done!" Ratchet cried dark doe eyes fleck with crimson and gold that made him appear wild with the spirit of Ares burning in his gaze.
"Did you give Irneclease a potion to make her bleed out in birth? Did you stop her breath and still her heart?" Jack demanded, shaking his brother by the ears fiercly.
"No! I did everything I could." Ratchet looked up to his younger half-brother's gaze, breath stilling at the calm grief that shone from his brother's eyes.
"Then it was the will of the Gods. Blame Athena for taking my offering, Artemis and not guarding my wife. Blame Somnos for closing her eyes and Thantanos for stilling her heart. Blame Hades for taking her soul to the underworld but never, ever blame yourself. I lost my wife today, but you gave me my son, alive. The midwife declared him to be stillborn within the womb. You brought him forth breathing, and for that I will thank the Gods for the rest of my life."
What strength Ratchet had as he tried to be strong for his brother left him at the stern forgiveness he was given and he sank to his knees, tears of grief for the loss of his beloved sister-in-law finally being loosed. Regardless of his brother's words he still blamed himself. The seed of the descendents of the Olympians was known to be too strong for the mortal womb. He should have forbade a child from their union, or given Irnecleas a potion to keep her from conceiving such a child. Then she would still live, but if he had, the tiny floppy eared infant would not now lie in his brother's arms.
He looked to Wheeljack, watching his brother transform in the span of a heartbeat from the absent-minded daydreaming thinker to this strong, father already willing to give everything for his child. "Then I will thank them for allowing me to do so." Ratchet rasped thickly, eyes misting as the tears finally fell for the life he failed to save.
"Perceptor!" Wheeljack summoned, calling his inquisitive son away from the bustling market square and hostile, staring faces of foreigners. The sea port of Kommos welcomed travelers from across Helios, Macedonia, Rhodes and Thrace, but Wheeljack Ratchet and Perceptor were the rarely witnessed descendents of the Gods, and few men trusted the images of walking beasts.
The men of the various ships stared and made signs of warding as the god-descended trio passed. All three spoke the flowing speech of the Athenians and all bore the appearance of the hare. Tall, they walked on paws that showed sharp claws with each step over the flat sole of the common sandals they wore strapped over their paws. Ratchet, the white hare with red hands wore the low cut kilt and prominent cod piece favored by the men of Minoa. Wheeljack, equally white with tufts of fur upon his chest colored turquoise blue and jasper green wore the long loose robes of Athens. Perceptor just wore the short kilt of the Spartans, Wheeljack's mother's people as he ran about innocently ignoring the strange men who bore neither fangs nor claws nor fur or feathers, but the simple skin of mortal birth.
"Father?" Perceptor finally ceased his explorations and walked between Wheeljack and Ratchet, "Did mother look like them?" He asked, twitching an ear towards the men gleaming sweat and stinking of hard work and the sea that worked the docks.
"Yes, she was mortal, and as beautiful as any graced by Aphrodite." Wheeljack smiled down at his son proudly, firm hand ruffling the too long, floppy ears that had yet to stiffen making his son resemble the floppy bunnies no God had ever taken the form of.
"Why are we here?" Ratchet finally asked suspiciously, "Kommos is a fine port, but why a sea port at all? We could have viewed the trade ports of Helios, or Rhodes or even Heraklion to the north if you were so desperate to see the land of Minos."
"Well, I've heard that this area is much beloved by Posidon, and I have yet to venerate him for my great blessing." Wheeljack replied with a sad smile.
"It has been six years, brother, you have offered thanks to all of Olympus. Must we keep seeking each temple and shrine?" Ratchet sighed already knowing he would be making his own offering to the god of the sea.
"None interfered with your efforts, and Perceptor is alive. That is enough to garner my gratitude." Wheeljack replied.
Perceptor looked from father to uncle and knew he had caused this trip. The day of his birth had been the day he had murdered his mother. That was why he was the red of the blood coral that came from the sea and held no reminders of his mother. Surely the Gods would have given him her face or figure to keep her memory after her death. Instead he looked just like his father save for his mother's eyes banded with the hues of malachite.
While they walked, listening to the sea Ratchet and Wheeljack spoke of the future and their ever continuing wandering since they had burned down the house Wheeljack had built for Irnicleas when she had consented to be his wife. The stench of blood had never left their home, the echoes of her screams as life left her form had remained in the rafters resounding day and night of her tortured birthing. With the rising flames the burning home had sighed, as if her tortured soul finally found peace in its ashes.
"We could live here." Percy suggested, nodding to the proud men of Knossos with their short kilts that displayed their strong legs and narrow waists. Despite being mere mortals they were nearly as impressive as his uncle Ratchet.
"You would be made to fight for Knossos the moment an enemy arose. Come your twelfth birthday you will be man enough to be a soldier of Crete. Is this what you wish?" Ratchet asked evenly.
Percy's eyes widened in horror as he shook his head emphatically, his wildly swinging ears eliciting snickers from the men on the boats and the docks but he didn't care. He hated fighting, real fighting with swords and javelins. He loved wrestling like his father and uncle but he would always refuse the weapons of war.
Behind them the voices of the men swiftly rose. Shouts and screams in a dozen languages rent the air as the earth hued figures raced from their boats and the sea. Wheeljack turned looking to find the source of the commotion. A niggling fear of a great wave sent from Posidon to steal away his son filled his heart, but the truth stopped it cold. High on the seas with arrows blackening the skies pirates amassed towards the port and the treasure trove of trade goods and slaves sitting on the docks for their taking.
"Run!" Ratchet bellowed forcing his brother and nephew before him. They turned from the docks to race to the nearby safety of the hills and found themselves hemmed in by a rain of arrows blanketing the land between them and safety in death. The amassing barricades of night black arrows kept them from running into the safety of the scrub covered hills.
Ratchet spun facing the disembarking pirates holding up his short eating dagger as his only defense. Behind him Wheeljack pulled his sword and Perceptor pulled his own small dagger, the three standing strong before the approaching pirates as the many sailors and dockworkers huddled upon the sand few brave ones pulling weapons to face the pirate horde.
"Pirate slavers," Ratchet murmured over his shoulder, staring the oncoming men down. "If we fight, they will kill us. If we don't we will never again be free."
"Then we fight," Perceptor replied fearfully, small hand holding his tiny dagger. "Becoming a slave will not honor my mother."
"No, it won't" Wheeljack sighed and hit his son hard on the back of the head knocking him out cold, "But it would only increase her agony in the land of Hades if she learnt of your demise." Wheeljack tossed his weapon aside, slinging Perceptor under his robes and hunching his shoulders like an old man. "I will not stop you from fighting, brother, but I swore on her death bed to save Perceptor."
"So you did," Ratchet sighed, hiding his dagger and falling to his knees in surrender hands held empty and wide, "And so did I."
A/N: This section borrows heavily from a mid nineties version of the Odyssey. I lost the VHS and I can't find exactly which one but it had almost the exact same scene of Odysseus delivering his wife's child and holding him up to the sun to see his home. I always loved that scene and just had to add it.
Chapters : 1
Also on FF.net