Short story
Featuring the Plagues of Egypt!
For Yubi/starspiritgate /misterbkeele who requested the prompt Triangle on the writing meme. (Also posted this at Gabriel's journal, here.) <3 I'm afraid that try as I might, the only thing I could think of for 'Triangle' was a pyramid. Which led to this; I've been working on it for a year. Tried my damndest to at least get a view of the pyramids in here (spent ages trying to figure out what time of the year this was so I could tell if the royal court was in Waset/Thebes or Memphis, because the Giza pyramids should be visible from Memphis), but then I remembered Ramses' capital was Pi-Ramses, so Giza would not be visible. So I thought, "To Hell with this, I'll just stick an obelisk in there."
Archaeological evidence shows that the Egyptians did indeed have large soft pillows; as for Amonherkhopshef, I’ve taken liberties with his character, basing it upon that of Kha-em-Waset, Ramses’ firstborn son in Christian Jacq’s Ramses series. (Historically, it was Amonherkhopshef who was Ramses’ eldest son, not Kha. And Ramses outlived both of them.) Also, given how long-lived Ramses and Moses were and how young Egyptians married, I do believe that Amonherkhopshef would have been in his late teens at the least during the Plagues, aka an adult by Egyptian standards.
Also, in my writing, my Gabriel spent quite a lot of time in Egypt during his travels and he and the goddess Bast were good friends. The Plagues strained that friendship, to put it lightly.
Meme: Triangle
…I will harden Pharaoh’s heart, and multiply my signs and my wonders in the land of Egypt.
But Pharaoh shall not hearken unto you, that I may lay my hand upon Egypt, and bring forth mine armies, and mine people the children of Israel, out of the land of Egypt…
Gabriel had been in Egypt many times before, but it had never involved his duty. He vaguely wondered if he would run into Bast, and he hoped that he wouldn’t. What could he say if she asked him what he was doing?
He loved Egypt; loved its beauty, its grandeur, its culture, and now he had to watch an entire country suffer for the sins of a few. Oh, he knew the Lord had His reasons, and there was no justification for the treatment of the Israelites. But as he stood invisible to human eyes and watched a young Egyptian child playing with his dog in the shade of a tree, he bowed his head, wondering if the boy was the firstborn in his home. How was he to justify this? Why harden Ramses’ heart, simply to make an example of the land?
The Messenger drew a deep breath, spreading his wings. I will not question the Lord.
*
And it came to pass that at midnight the Lord smote all the firstborn in the land of Egypt, from the firstborn of Pharaoh that sat on his throne unto the firstborn of the captive that was in the dungeon, and all the firstborn of cattle.
Gabriel was the angel of death over kings; evidently that extended to the sons of kings. It was not a duty he was called upon to fulfil often - Azrael generally handled everything - but this… this was important to the Lord and to His chosen people, and so had been given to him.
Amonherkhopshef, firstborn son of Ramses the Great, lay sleeping peacefully amongst soft pillows and richly woven sheets. The soft scent of the bundles of lilies and papyrus blossoms on a low table nearby pervaded the room, mixing with the scent of incense. The man’s lips were parted slightly, and Gabriel could hear the faint exhale of his breath. He was slender, with long delicate fingers and a pale complexion, and Gabriel was reminded that this young man, a priest and a scribe, a scholar who spent most of his time in the temple libraries, had committed no crime against the Hebrews.
I will not question the Lord, Gabriel reminded himself. He entrusted this task to me, and I will not fail Him. He reached towards the sleeping prince, touching his forehead with the tips of his fingers; he would, at least, remain asleep and not feel pain. Then Gabriel drew his sword.
*
He left the palace, bare feet making no noise on the ground, head bowed as he focused on the divine Presence within him; thus, he was caught by surprise when tackled from the side. He fell against an obelisk, hitting his head on the sandstone, and gritted his teeth against an involuntary cry of pain as he blinked. His dazed supernatural vision showed him a sleek, graceful black cat, a huge, powerful-looking lioness, a lithe, sensuously beautiful young woman, and an equally sensuous cat-headed woman at the same time. Slowly, the images resolved into the huge lioness. Claws slashed across his chest, tearing it open as he shouted in pain. Blood welled up rapidly, staining the white linen of his robes as it had stained the purity of the Nile.
Bast growled. “Sekhmet would have ripped you limb from limb by now. Give me one good reason why I should not do so, Djibril.”
Gabriel tried to form a reply; he made no attempt to heal his chest, though it hurt. “I had no choice, Bast. I was ordered,” he whispered.
She snarled, claws digging further into the already burning wounds, and he cried out before clenching his jaw. “Orders. To commit mass murder. And you and your brothers, of course, carry them out like good little soldiers. We - I - accepted you, gave you hospitality and friendship whenever you came here, and you dared to kill Pharaoh’s son. If Yahveh ordered you to kill me, Djibril, would you? Do His orders come above all else?”
Gabriel’s voice was strained. “I am His soldier. If you were ordered to kill me, would you, Eye of Ra?”
Bast hesitated for a moment, before her large amber eyes narrowed. The obelisk cast a triangular shadow in the moonlight, leaving her expression hooded, though her eyes still glowed in the darkness. “I do not need orders. I am no soldier but the protector of the Pharaoh and his line. You killed his son.”
“I did not want to,” Gabriel answered quietly, drawing ragged breaths. “I had no choice.”
“I am not you, to be swayed by pity or mercy, and I do not work for your Father, to give clemency for repentance.” She almost spat out the last word. “I cannot kill your kind but I promise you, this discorporation will be painful.”
The coppery tang of his own blood, soaking into the ground, filled Gabriel’s nose. He knew he could heal himself, could throw her off and defend himself, that he had been following orders and the Lord’s Plan was infallible; but true to Bast’s word, his chest and now his stomach burned in agony and he could focus on nothing through the haze of pain. Or almost nothing. The peaceful look on Amonherkhopshef’s face was still clear in his mind. Dazedly, he realised that his throat was sore, then realised that the screams he could hear were his. There was an odd pounding in his ears, Bast’s muzzle and his own face were streaked with red, and he shut his eyes and tried to concentrate on the Presence within him, knowing that at least he would return to Heaven free of blood.
~*~
Any ideas for a decent title? :D