A Granted Wish for eriea
Title: The River Iteru
Godmother: [seven dwarves]
Wisher:
eriea
Classic: Antony and Cleopatra
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Tezuka/Fuji, slight Tezuka/Atobe and Oishi/Eiji, Oshitari
Rating: PG-13
Warning(s): based on a Shakespeare tragedy
Summary: Tezuka is a famous soldier and general, one of the rulers of Alba. Instead of governing or waging war, he has spent the last four years in Ptolemeia, in the arms of the beautiful Pharaoh, Fuji. When Tezuka defies Atobe, to whom he owes his allegiance, he and Fuji must make the final choice between duty and desire.
Disclaimer: I don't own PoT. Shakespeare is no longer under copyright, but I don't own him either.
A/N: AU, obviously. The setting is of my own invention, but is very closely based on the original: Alba=Rome, and Ptolemeia=Egypt. According to the wisher's request, Atobe=Octavian/Augustus. And Atobe's (dead) father is roughly parallel to Julius Caesar. I hope this is enjoyable, and I promise to reply to comments as soon as godmother identities are revealed! Many thanks to my beta :)
The River Iteru
When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
~William Shakespeare, Sonnet 29
Tezuka had half expected-or at least hoped-that Fuji would meet him in the harbor when his ship arrived from Alba. After all, he had been away from Ptolemeia for nearly half a year. When the ship had pulled into port, and it became obvious that Fuji and his retinue were not there, Tezuka had glanced at the crowd in vain, unable to spot so much as the red hair of Fuji's personal servant, who often carried messages between them.
He was disappointed, but not surprised. Even at the best of times, Ptolemeia's ruler was elusive, preferring to meet Tezuka on his own terms, or not at all. And, considering the rumors that might have reached Ptolemeia in the last few months, if Fuji was angry, that too would be no surprise. Perhaps it had been a mistake to return at all, but Tezuka was not one to change from a chosen course. Without stopping even a day to rest, he set off for Rhakote, the capital of Ptolemeia.
And so, he had spent the last six days sailing up the Iteru River. Mostly, he sat watching the brilliant blue waves lap against the sides of the boat. They reminded him of a certain pair of eyes. And the owner of those eyes was just as impossible to grasp as the water of the Iteru, which rose and flooded the long valley in one season, but fled back to its banks in the next.
Oishi squatted beside him on the deck. He had accompanied Tezuka for more than ten years, and was less intimidated by the stern general than most of the other men.
"Ptolemeia feels like home now, doesn't it?" he said.
"Mm," Tezuka agreed, dipping a hand into the water.
"They say the water of the Iteru is the source of all life," Oishi offered, his voice floating across the river. "It provides water for the people and their herds, and every year it carries new soil so that the crops will grow."
"Yes," Tezuka said. "It sustains." Cupping some of the water in his palm, he brought it to his lips. The cool liquid slid over his tongue, down his throat. "Away from it, life withers."
Oishi's lips tightened, and he looked away to the other side of the water, where the reeds rattled and swayed in the breeze that was carrying them closer to Rhakote and Fuji, and ever further away from Alba.
***
They arrived in Rhakote on the following day. As soon as the boat touched the dock, Tezuka sprang to his feet. Once again, there was no sign of Fuji, but Tezuka knew where he would be waiting. After days of waiting, his feet touched the shores as last
"Tezuka, at least take an escort appropriate to your station," Oishi called after him. Tezuka turned back for a moment, and put a hand to the hilt of the sword at his waist. Whether the reunion went ill or well, he wanted it to be private. Oishi should remember that he was still a soldier, one of the masters of Alba.
Without another glance back, he headed down a path by the river to the pavilion where he knew Fuji would be waiting. His stride was quick, although not so hurried as to forget his dignity. He had left off his gilded armor and trappings of rank, and other than the fine engravings on the hilt of his sword, there was nothing to distinguish him from any common Alban soldier with skin grown tan from four years of being stationed in Ptolemeia.
The servant Eiji was stationed at the locked iron gate that blocked the path down to the pavilion-or at least, he was supposed to be. Instead, he leaned back against it, his eyes closed. At the sound of Tezuka's footsteps, he opened them lazily, and then leaped to his feet with a wide smile.
"Hello-!"
Tezuka cleared his throat.
"I mean, greetings, my lord! The Pharaoh is expecting you down at the pavilion."
Tezuka nodded, and Eiji fitted a key from his belt into the lock. Tezuka almost asked him what sort of mood Fuji was in, but decided that he would know soon enough. Quite against his will, his heart began to pound, and at the sight of the pavilion which had been in his dreams for half a year, something deep within him stirred.
Unlike many of Fuji's retreats, it was not an especially extravagant pavilion-only a simple wooden roof covering a floor of old mosaics, surrounded by sycamores and lotus trees. Fuji reclined on a pile of cushions at the far end, gazing at the river flowing by. He did not look up at Tezuka's approach.
In the months that Tezuka had been away, Fuji had only grown more radiant. Today, in the heat of summer, he wore nothing but a pleated linen kilt and a heavy collar of gold and lapis lazuli, which matched the brightness of his eyes. Tezuka immediately noticed that around each ankle was a strand of carnelian beads, a gift which Tezuka had given him several years before.
His hair was the true wonder. Most men of Ptolemeia cropped theirs or shaved it entirely, and wore expensive wigs in its stead. But Fuji, probably as an act of willfulness, had never cut his. Thick and lustrous, when it was unbound, it fell past his waist. Now, it had been plaited into dozens of tiny braids that fanned across his shoulders and covered his bare back.
Fuji finally looked up to meet his gaze from beneath darkened lashes. Tezuka's breath caught in his throat.
"Tezuka," said the ruler of Ptolemeia, his lips curving upward in a calm smile. "The wind said that you would return today."
"I sent a message," Tezuka reminded him. Fuji's mysticism made him uncomfortable.
"The message told me that you were returning to Ptolemeia," Fuji said, his voice half singsong. "But it was the wind on the waves and the birds in the sky that brought news of you to Rhakote."
"Can you always read the future in such ways?" Tezuka asked, curious in spite of himself.
Fuji laughed.
"No," he said. "Yumiko taught me to see the signs, but I don't understand them as clearly as she did. A loss for Ptolemeia." He rose to his feet, and offered a hand to Tezuka.
Tezuka accepted it. Fuji's hands were smooth, the nails round and decorated with henna. He was so unlike the rough men of Alba, who prided themselves on their rugged solidity. But Fuji was delicate, like a sculpture of the finest marble, not a tool of war, and the sight of him fed Tezuka's eyes in a way that his homeland could not.
Not that Tezuka would dare to underestimate Fuji's skill with a sword-he had made that mistake once, and it would not happen again.
With his free hand, Fuji reached up and lightly brushed Tezuka's lips.
"I did not think you would return," he said. "When you left, you seemed so determined to fulfill your duties. Your place is in Alba."
Tezuka moved Fuji's hand and placed it on his chest, directly over his heart.
"It beats for you."
***
"Can you believe that he left for Ptolemeia without informing me?" Atobe demanded. His fist was clenched around the golden border of his rich purple toga.
"All too well," Oshitari drawled, draining his cup and placing it on the central table. With a sigh of impatience, Atobe gestured for the slaves to pour more wine. "Although the two of you are supposed to rule Alba together, he pays you surprisingly little regard."
"He was a good friend once," Atobe said. "Loyal to my father. And as a general, Alba has never seen his match. But since I sent him to Ptolemeia four years ago-"
"He's done nothing to secure our control of the country," Oshitari broke in. "And he's done nothing to ensure that we receive the necessary grain supply."
"Exactly," Atobe said. "He's supposed to be ruling the place, not being ruled. And when he returned, he swore he would do his duty. But as soon as I turn around, he goes skulking back to that lover of his!"
"I see the true problem," Oshitari said, smiling wryly. "The great Atobe, son of the gods and master of Alba, does not deal well with being jilted."
Atobe made a noise of disgust.
"The liaison was your idea," he said. "Who would have thought that my prodigious charms would be insufficient to hold him?"
"Perhaps it was not a good idea," Oshitari admitted. "You may have driven him away, in the end. You're a handsome man, Atobe, as you are well aware. And when it comes to power, you have no match. But you could never compete with Fuji for Tezuka's heart."
"And why not?" Atobe asked, intrigued, despite his annoyance with the situation.
"Have you ever seen him?"
"No. Why?"
"I have," Oshitari said. "Once, about ten years ago, when I was serving under your father. He went to Ptolemeia on a diplomatic mission."
"Fuji must have been a mere child then," Atobe commented.
"Yes, he's a little younger than you. He was twelve-they called him Syuusuke. His sister, Fuji Yumiko was Pharaoh at the time, and he wasn't yet even her co-ruler."
"They say that Yumiko was extraordinarily beautiful," Atobe said.
"The most beautiful woman in the world," Oshitari agreed, a gleam in his eye. "Your father was quite fond of her, you know."
Atobe glared at him.
"I know what my father was like," he said. "I'm asking you about Fuji. The brother."
"He's very much like her. You could see it even then. The shape of the face, the movements, the manner of speaking-he was a very pretty child, and it was obvious that he had inherited her beauty, or perhaps she consciously shaped him in her mold. There's something about both of them that makes it impossible to look away."
"Is it possible to be that beautiful?" Atobe asked, running a hand through his own silver hair.
"It's not anything physical, really," Oshitari said. "But Yumiko could hold anyone, if she chose. It didn't matter if she smiled, or wept, or screamed. Nobody would ever tire of beauty like that. And I could tell that Syuusuke would be the same, maybe more so. He had the most remarkable eyes…lapis lazuli eyes."
"I wouldn't have thought that Tezuka would care at all about beauty."
Oshitari smiled.
"You never knew him as a comrade, but I served with him under your father, and fought alongside him in many battles. Beneath that face of stone, he's an unusually passionate man."
***
Fuji's lips felt cool against the flushed skin of Tezuka's neck. One hand rested on his lover's bare chest. With the other, he reached out to pull the draperies more securely around the bed.
"Are you awake?" he asked.
Tezuka opened his eyes.
"Yes," he said. "What is it?"
"Is it true that you and Atobe were lovers while you were in Alba?" Fuji murmured into his ear.
Tezuka flinched. He had known that there must have been rumors, but trust Fuji to bring them up at such a time.
Even if Fuji had not known Tezuka too well to misunderstand the reaction, Tezuka was not a man to tell lies.
"Lovers isn't the right word for it," he said bluntly. "He offered himself to me. Ah!"
Fuji had taken the skin of Tezuka's neck between his teeth and bitten down hard. Tezuka reached up and felt a drop of blood.
"He didn't want you," Fuji hissed. "And he won't take you."
"He wanted my loyalty," Tezuka said. "And I owe it to him. His father made me one of the most powerful men in Alba. But my loyalty, along with my heart, belongs to you. It was yours, since the first time I saw you."
Fuji's arms, which were wrapped tight as serpents around Tezuka's torso, relaxed.
"The first time you saw me?" he repeated. "When was that, Tezuka? Was it when you came to Ptolemeia with Atobe's father."
"I did see you then. You don't remember?"
"No. Did we meet?"
"Only briefly," Tezuka said.
Fuji frowned.
"Yumiko was killed that week. I've forgotten many things."
"Don't worry about it," Tezuka said, running a hand through Fuji's hair. "You were young then."
"So you fell in love with me at first sight?" Fuji quipped.
"Don't be ridiculous. You were twelve. You called me an old man."
Fuji's laugh was light and airy.
"I suppose a man of twenty seemed old to me when I was twelve. And besides, you do tend to be rather serious, Tezuka!" He swung his legs around Tezuka's waist. "But I do remember when we met four years ago. You presented the official greetings from Atobe, and hardly said anything. Then you stared at me for a long time, and gave me these." He dangled his carnelian anklets in the air. Suddenly, his expression his grew serious, and he opened his eyes wide. "Is there going to be trouble with Atobe?"
"I don't know," Tezuka said. "He thinks we are dangerous. He doesn't trust me anymore. If he decides that I can't be trusted here any longer, or that he needs to tighten his control on Ptolemeia, who knows what he may do."
"Tezuka, we can't fight against Alba! Ptolemeia would be crushed."
"I doubt it will come to that," Tezuka said.
It was the first time in his life that he had said something to Fuji that was not quite true.
"Ptolemeia is my responsibility!" Fuji said, his voice fierce. "Yumiko left it to me. I won't let Alba touch it, no matter what."
"Neither will I," Tezuka said, clasping his hand.
"You've endangered both of us by coming here!" Fuji said, glaring at him. "You should have stayed in Alba and served Atobe."
"I've fought a hundred campaigns and a thousand battles for my country," Tezuka said. "My place is by your side now."
"Then truly, love makes fools of men," Fuji murmured, and Tezuka could not disagree.
***
"Is all of this really necessary?" Atobe asked, gazing out at the ships that lined the harbor, and the soldiers that assembled on their decks.
"You know it is," Oshitari said. "That's why you gave the order for them to be readied. Tezuka is a danger to you. And if we don't secure the grain supply from Ptolemeia, Alba will starve."
"I still can't bring myself to think of Tezuka as an enemy," Atobe said. "His heart is no longer here in Alba, but he would never rise against us, his old comrades. He is not capable of disloyalty."
"He will do whatever Fuji asks of him," Oshitari said, his voice grim. "And I believe that Fuji is capable of anything."
"My father told me that Tezuka should serve as an advisor, to rule Alba by my side. How can I go to war with him?"
"He might come to his senses, once he sees the ships approaching Ptolemeia."
"You don't think so, do you Oshitari?"
Oshitari sighed.
"No. I don't think he's going to see reason. I don't think he can. Unfortunately, the rumors are going to say that you declared war in a rage, after being jilted."
"You keep bringing that up," Atobe said, glaring at him. "I don't really hold any resentment over it. He was a good enough lover, or he would have been if his heart had not been elsewhere." His eyes went distant for a moment, staring out across the harbor. "I think the liaison is what my father wanted. In a world without Fuji, we would have made fine partners, ruled Alba together. Conquered the world, perhaps, instead of fighting each other."
"Passion has no place in the heart of an Alban soldier," Oshitari commented. "It can only turn him from the path of greatness."
"My father knew that well," Atobe said. "Although, I think he was truly fond of Fuji Yumiko. He grieved when she was killed. I regret it as well-we might have avoided some of this mess we are in now!"
Oshitari raised an eyebrow.
"And before you ask," Atobe said impatiently, "I was not the one who sent the assassin."
"Your mother, then?"
"Yes. I had not yet been named heir to Alba, and Yumiko was carrying my father's child. My mother was used to my father's lovers, but she could not bear the threat to me. So my mother eliminated them. If I had been older, I probably would have seen to it myself, although I can't really believe that my father would have set Yumiko's child above me."
"You realize that Fuji must blame you for his sister's death?"
"If he's a wise ruler, he will put that aside and make peace with Alba."
"Yes," Oshitari mused. "Tezuka we cannot reason with, but Fuji may be another matter entirely."
***
Tezuka leaned back in the hot water with a groan. As accustomed as he had become to Ptolemeian life, he was grateful that Fuji Yumiko had installed an Alban-style bathing complex in her palace in Rhakote. He could do without the coarse food and rough clothing of his homeland, but there was no substitute for a real bath. And while he was still a man in his prime, if no longer a youth, some of his old war wounds ached from time to time.
A long, raised scar streaked from his right shoulder to his left hip, a souvenir from a barbarian with a spear that he had acquired during the old Atobe's campaign in Gallia. A dent in his right leg marked the resting place of a stray arrow, during the all-too-recent civil wars. His back was layered with a network of fine lines, scars from repeated floggings at the age of sixteen by a corrupt centurion who he had refused to bribe-once the centurion was exposed, Tezuka's stubborn honesty had brought him to the notice of Atobe's father, which in turn had led to a stellar military career.
His body was a map of war and conflict, which spread his life's adventures plain for all to see. How strange that the true marks which had shaped him could not be perceived by the eye-the break in his left arm, for example, inflicted in his youth by jealous 'friends', which had left the limb useless for half a year. In the meantime, he learned to hold a sword with his right arm, and his ambidexterity only made him more deadly a swordsman. It was the suffering and frustration of those months that had hardened his spirit and given him courage beyond measure.
And then, there were the bonds on his heart, stronger than iron and more eternal than stone. It was in this very room that they had been formed.
Tezuka was alone in the bathing room, except for a stranger, who hung back in the shadows as if he thought Tezuka could not sense him hidden there. But Tezuka heard his bare feet pad against the red and white mosaic floor.
"Come out," Tezuka said at last, reaching for his dagger where it lay beside the pool.
"All right," said a high voice. It was a young boy in a loincloth, with long brown hair and heavily lidded eyes in a pretty face. Tezuka had not seen him before, but recognized him at once-he must the crown prince, the Pharaoh's brother.
"Hello," the boy said. "You have a lot of scars. You must be very old."
Tezuka frowned. The boy was at least twelve, and clearly soft and indulged. At that age, an Alban youth would already be drilling with the soldiers.
"I'm twenty," he said.
"Oh!" the boy said. "That is not as old as I thought! Yumiko is older. But when you frown like that, it makes you look like an old man." He plopped down on the edge of the pool and dipped his legs into the warm water. "My name is Syuusuke. What is yours?"
"Kunimitsu, of the Tezuka family," he said.
Syuusuke's brow wrinkled in confusion.
"Should I call you Tezuka, or Kunimitsu?"
"Almost everyone calls me Tezuka."
Syuusuke's smile widened.
"Then I will call you Kunimitsu!"
"If you wish," Tezuka said. At that moment, Syuusuke's eyes opened fully, and they were of such a radiant blue that Tezuka almost forgot to breathe.
"You have lapis lazuli eyes," he blurted. Syuusuke tilted his head to one side, still staring. In appearance and behavior he seemed rather young for his age, and there was innocence about him, but the look in his eyes made him seem almost ancient.
"Are they?" he asked. "Yumiko always says that they are the color of the river Iteru."
They sat there in silence for a moment. Tezuka could tell that the prince wanted to ask him something, and he waited.
"Kunimitsu, are you in love with anyone?" Syuusuke said.
Tezuka blinked, a little surprised.
"No," he said. "Why?"
Syuusuke regarded him gravely.
"I like you," he said.
Rendered speechless, Tezuka struggled to think of a response to this unseemly declaration of affection from the crown prince of Ptolemeia. While he floundered, Syuusuke slid into the bath and wrapped his arms around Tezuka's neck. Tezuka almost froze. Instead, he gently detached the boy.
"You're a prince, Syuusuke, and still young. You mustn't behave like this."
"When I'm older, then?" Syuusuke asked, still smiling and completely nonplussed. "Shall we be lovers?"
Blushing furiously, Tezuka was tempted to utter a vehement refusal, but something in the boy's gaze held him back. He felt as if he was addressing an equal, not a child, and he replied as if it was so.
"We'll see," he said. "When you are a man, you may not feel the same way. And when you are Pharaoh, you may not be free to do as you please."
"Oh, I'm not going to be Pharaoh," Syuusuke said, his voice cheerful. "Yumiko is going to have a baby, and it will be Pharaoh after her, so I can love whoever I want. Good-bye, Kunimitsu!" he said, getting to his feet. "Please return in a few years."
The Alban delegation had departed from Ptolemeia the next day, and by the end of the week the reigning Pharaoh-Fuji Yumiko-was dead, along with the unborn Atobe child she carried. Her brother was immediately crowned and anointed as the twentieth Pharaoh Fuji.
Tezuka had gone with Atobe's father to the wars in Gallia, and after that had been other long wars in Alba, civil wars, and he had risen from a respected soldier to the second most powerful man in Alba. After the death of Atobe's father, when the young Atobe had assumed power, Tezuka had been appointed his advisor and co-ruler of sorts.
Something about that strange meeting six years earlier had struck Tezuka's very core. He had not been able to forget the boy, or his promise, or his blazing eyes. And so, he had willingly accepted an assignment to govern and represent Alba in Ptolemeia.
The Pharaoh, Fuji, had received Tezuka graciously, and accepted his gift of carnelian anklets, but had given no sign of recognition. Tezuka admitted to himself that he was disappointed, that he had expected more.
The boy who had been, Syuusuke, was gone, and in his place was a beautiful youth just on the brink of manhood, sleekly muscular, and with something a little frightening in his expression. Unlike the child, who had been endearingly genuine, the man often feigned indifference, or remained distant from Tezuka. He could be moody, unpredictable, and his constant smile was sometimes cruel. As a lover he was passionate, and fiercely possessive, but although he made it clear he desired Tezuka's embrace and accepted his declarations of love, he made none in return.
And yet, the eyes were still blue as the river Iteru, and they seemed to see beyond what other men could, into a realm of spirits and ghosts and the truth of men's hearts. And sometimes, in them, Tezuka saw the echo of the boy who had been, before he had seen his sister slain.
The boy and the man both, they held him more strongly than chains of iron, or duty, or love of glory.
***
It was his day of leisure, and Oishi was walking in the market when somebody barreled into him from behind, knocking him over and sending them both tumbling in the dust. He was about to reach for his knife, when he saw a familiar head of red hair.
"Eiji!" he said, taking Fuji's servant by the shoulders and lifting him off the ground. "What's wrong? I thought you were away from Rhakote, visiting the port."
"Ships!" the redhead gasped. "There are ships in the harbor, at the mouth of the Iteru! Alban ships! Atobe's ships!"
Oishi paled, inwardly cursing in all the languages he knew. When he and Tezuka had left Alba, he had known that this day would come, but he had been unable to prevent it.
"Have they attacked?" he demanded, shaking his friend until his teeth rattled. "How many are there? Have they made any demands?"
Eiji shook his head.
"I saw them arriving, and I came as fast as I could. That was three days ago. There's at least a hundred of them, and they're armed for war."
"But you don't know what they want?"
"It must be Tezuka," Eiji said miserably. "What else could it be?"
"It must be," Oishi echoed. "It must be. Oh, I knew this would happen!"
"Enough!" a stern voice ordered. Oishi and Eiji both jumped.
"T-tezuka!" Oishi stammered. "I just heard-"
Tezuka's grim expression did not waver.
"I know. I heard it myself, not an hour ago. Gather the men, and leave for the harbor to see that the ships are ready."
"Tezuka-," Oishi began, finding himself unable to speak. "I…"
"After that, you are free to go," Tezuka said.
Oishi's jaw dropped.
"When we left Alba, you told me that you did not wish to ever fight against your own people. I promised that I would never ask you or any man to go against his country, or disgrace his family, or turn traitor in my service. You may leave, along with any others of the men who wish to do so. I will make do with those who remain, and the mercenaries, and the Ptolemeian navy."
Oishi's face twisted in agony, but he nodded and saluted Tezuka. Eiji cried out as if he had been struck.
"You can't go! You can't go!"
Tezuka turned back towards the palace, and left them there, Eiji clinging to Oishi's legs and sobbing like a child.
"Good-bye," Oishi said, as gently as he could. "Maybe we'll meet again."
"Promise you won't fight, if there is a battle," Eiji said through his tears.
"I promise," Oishi said, putting a hand on his head. "I can't fight Alba, but I would never fight Tezuka." In truth, he wasn't sure if he would have a choice. If Atobe ordered him to fight, it would be treason to disobey.
"I hate Tezuka!" Eiji hissed. "He seduced Fuji, and then Atobe, and made everyone unhappy, and now you have to leave!"
Oishi offered his hand. "Will you walk with me to the boat?"
Eiji took it, and they headed for the river.
"What do the Albans believe happens to dead people?" he asked, his voice soft.
"I was always told that they become shades, in the Underworld," Oishi replied. "Empty and grey. Unless they are very special, like Atobe's father, in which case they go to live among the gods."
"But ordinary people become ghosts? If two people love each other, and they are separated, do they meet again when they are dead?"
"I don't know," Oishi said. "I never really liked the idea of shades. What do the Ptolemeians say?"
"Some of us also believe in the Underworld, where souls are judged," Eiji said. "But the old Pharaoh, Yumiko, who was very wise, said that when the soul leaves the body, it joins the waters of the Iteru. All life was born from there, and when we die, to there we return. And so we will always be with the people we love, because while they live we help to give them life, and when they die, they join us there in the water."
***
If the visitor had hoped to take Fuji by surprise, he did not succeed.
"Oshitari Yuushi, wasn't it?" Fuji asked, gesturing for the man to have a seat, and offering him a bowl of fresh grapes.
"Indeed," Oshitari said, regarding him intently. "I'm honored that you remember me. I don't believe we ever actually met."
"No," Fuji said. "But I saw you when you were in Ptolemeia ten years ago, and I never forget a face." He smiled.
"I saw you as well," Oshitari said, smiling back at him. "And you have grown up to be more beautiful than I imagined, if you don't mind my saying so."
"Say what you wish," Fuji murmured, surveying him from under lashes dusted with gold. "But you didn't sneak into my palace in order to exchange pleasantries."
"I imagine you also wanted to speak to me," Oshitari said, popping a grape into his mouth. "Or I would not be here now."
"Of course not," Fuji said. "After what happened to Yumiko, I am very careful about assassins. So, what does Atobe want with me?"
"Grain," Oshitari said, startling Fuji. "And a bargain. He wants to ensure that Alba will not starve this winter. If you agree to cooperate, we will not attack."
"That's all?" Fuji rolled a grape between his fingers without bringing it to his lips. "To secure the safety of my country, it doesn't sound like a bad deal."
"No," Oshitari said. "He wants Tezuka."
"Tezuka is mine," Fuji said, his expression never wavering.
"If you try to keep Tezuka, he and Atobe will fight. He may die. Ptolemeia may be conquered, or destroyed entirely. Tezuka may be a fool in love, Fuji, but I do not think you are so blind. Convince him to go back to Alba-even as a private citizen-and the matter will be ended."
Fuji did not speak.
Oshitari leaned forward.
"If you love him-and I think you must, for he is a good man-you should let him go."
"He will never go, even if I ask it of him, or spit in his face, or drive him away with curses. As long as I live…" Fuji's eyes widened. "Oshitari, if I can send Tezuka back to you, will you spare my Ptolemeia?"
"I give you my word, and Atobe's."
"I will do it," Fuji said. "Now, please go."
Oshitari bowed.
"As your majesty commands," he said, and was gone.
Fuji leaned back on the couch with a sigh. He knew what he had to do-if Tezuka learned that he was dead, surely he would leave Ptolemeia and return to Alba.
He did not want to part with Tezuka, but it was for the best. He did not want to see Tezuka die in battle because of him, and he knew that Tezuka would never be captured alive.
And besides, he had lied to Tezuka, used him, treated him cruelly, and taken advantage of his love. The fact that he loved Tezuka and could not stop loving him no matter how he tried only made him more despicable. He was the Pharaoh. He had to put his responsibility to his people above his love for a single man.
"Eiji!" he called, and his servant entered the room, his eyes as red as his hair, and his face streaked with tears. "Eiji, I want you to do something for me."
***
Tezuka stood on a cliff above the Iteru, watching white dots in the distance grow. Atobe's ships were coming, bristling for battle like a pack of savage wolves. Tezuka's own ships and men were ready, but they were vastly outnumbered. The Ptolemeian navy and his mercenary soldiers had little hope of resisting Atobe's superior forces.
However, he, Tezuka Kunimitsu, was the finest general in the Alban Empire, or had been once. Atobe was still young and inexperienced. The situation was not hopeless.
But how many men would die, how many ships would burn before the battle would be over. And if he won it, would Atobe not flee and return with even greater forces?
In his heart, he knew that it was the end-if not today, than next month perhaps. But if he could win today, he might have another month with Fuji. As it was, he had left Rhakote without a chance to say farewell. He hoped he would not regret it.
"Sir!" one of his soldiers called, saluting him. "There's a message from Rhakote. Rode the horse nearly into the ground, too."
It was Eiji, looking completely disheveled. His tunic was filthy and torn in several places, and one of his sandals was missing. He hobbled over to Tezuka, gasping. His eyes were wide and frenzied.
"He's dead," he croaked. "My lord's dead."
***
It was only a day after Eiji had left that he returned to Rhakote.
Fuji was waiting at the pavilion in which he and Tezuka had shared so many happy moments. By this time, Tezuka should have returned safely to Atobe and Oshitari and set sail for Alba, the battle averted.
But the water of the Iteru was unsettled. Its murmur was trying to tell him something. Yumiko would have understood, but Fuji could only wait and wonder.
"Back so soon?" Fuji asked when Eiji entered the pavilion, trying to conceal his own anxiety. "Did all go as planned?"
"Fuji…" Eiji whispered, taking his hand.
Fuji saw something strange in his eyes, something terrible.
"Tell me!" he ordered. Eiji licked his parched lips, opened his mouth, and began to speak.
Tezuka stared at him, uncomprehending.
"Who is dead?" he asked.
"The Pharaoh. Fuji is dead." Eiji tried to keep his voice steady, terrified that he would not be able to maintain the lie. He wasn't much of an actor, but Fuji was counting on him to make the plan succeed.
Tezuka's eyes went blank, as if he had suddenly grown blind. He trembled, drew in a gasping breath, and sank to his knees. For a long time he knelt there, and Eiji thought he might have gone mad.
"Dead?" he said at last. "How?"
Eiji bit his lip, hating the suffering he was putting the man through.
"He killed himself," he said quickly, forcing out the words. "I was there. He didn't want to…to…"
But Tezuka was already stumbling towards the cliff. He stopped for a moment and smiled, the first time Eiji had ever seen him smile.
"He would not leave thinking I would not follow," he said. "I vowed to stay by his side. If he waits there, even death is life." He stood at the very edge, staring down into the brilliant blue of the water flowing by.
"Wait!" Eiji cried, understanding, at last.
Tezuka stepped forward.
Fuji threw back his head and laughed until tears ran down his cheeks. The voice that came forth was harsh and strained, as if all the air had been sucked from his lungs.
"What a fool I was!" he cried. "So arrogant, to believe that I loved him the best. And I killed him!" He doubled over and began to sob.
"No!" Eiji shouted, seizing his wrist. "You didn't mean to."
"No," Fuji whispered, his face suddenly calm. "I didn't mean to. But from the day I first loved him, I doomed him to die. There's no place in this world that we could love each other, living. But he could not live without me, and now that he's dead I see that I am the same. Go away, Eiji."
"My lord?"
"I don't want the memory of this to burden you. Go find Oishi. And carry word of this to Atobe. One last message."
Without looking back, Fuji walked towards the river, his unbound hair billowing behind him in the breeze.
"Is your soul waiting here in the river, Tezuka?" he asked. "Are you waiting for me there? You wouldn't go ahead alone, would you?"
He stepped into the water, felt it close around over his bare feet. He stretched his arms out wide and moved deeper, embracing the numbness. The Iteru welcomed him like he was a long lost child returning to its mother's arms. The water brushing against his cheeks was like a tender caress, the water pouring into his mouth was ambrosia.
"I will travel a thousand, thousand miles with you, Kunimitsu. The Iteru will take us there together."
***
"I wouldn't have thought it of either of them," Atobe said. He was exhausted, and he could feel the beginning of a massive headache.
"Of course not!" Oshitari said, a little wildly. "Who would have thought that Tezuka would kill himself upon hearing of Fuji's death, and that Fuji would do the same as soon as word of it reached him? It's completely mad!" He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.
"At least there will be no war," Atobe said. "The people of Ptolemeia will not die in a useless battle. The people of Alba will not starve for lack of grain."
"That's true," Oshitari agreed. "And Ptolemeia is yours now. Fuji left no heir."
"I didn't want Tezuka to die," Atobe said. "Or Fuji, either. It was the last thing I wanted. But I am the ruler of Alba, and I know that they will not be the last men to die because of me."
"That is the responsibility that both Fuji and Tezuka died to avoid," Oshitari said, with a bitter smile. "Love was what they wanted, the fools. But you and I, who have no such passion, have an empire to run."
"Still," Atobe said. "May the gods spare me from a love like theirs. It was too great for human hearts to bear."
END
Godmother: [seven dwarves]
Wisher:
eriea
Classic: Antony and Cleopatra
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Tezuka/Fuji, slight Tezuka/Atobe and Oishi/Eiji, Oshitari
Rating: PG-13
Warning(s): based on a Shakespeare tragedy
Summary: Tezuka is a famous soldier and general, one of the rulers of Alba. Instead of governing or waging war, he has spent the last four years in Ptolemeia, in the arms of the beautiful Pharaoh, Fuji. When Tezuka defies Atobe, to whom he owes his allegiance, he and Fuji must make the final choice between duty and desire.
Disclaimer: I don't own PoT. Shakespeare is no longer under copyright, but I don't own him either.
A/N: AU, obviously. The setting is of my own invention, but is very closely based on the original: Alba=Rome, and Ptolemeia=Egypt. According to the wisher's request, Atobe=Octavian/Augustus. And Atobe's (dead) father is roughly parallel to Julius Caesar. I hope this is enjoyable, and I promise to reply to comments as soon as godmother identities are revealed! Many thanks to my beta :)
The River Iteru
When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
~William Shakespeare, Sonnet 29
Tezuka had half expected-or at least hoped-that Fuji would meet him in the harbor when his ship arrived from Alba. After all, he had been away from Ptolemeia for nearly half a year. When the ship had pulled into port, and it became obvious that Fuji and his retinue were not there, Tezuka had glanced at the crowd in vain, unable to spot so much as the red hair of Fuji's personal servant, who often carried messages between them.
He was disappointed, but not surprised. Even at the best of times, Ptolemeia's ruler was elusive, preferring to meet Tezuka on his own terms, or not at all. And, considering the rumors that might have reached Ptolemeia in the last few months, if Fuji was angry, that too would be no surprise. Perhaps it had been a mistake to return at all, but Tezuka was not one to change from a chosen course. Without stopping even a day to rest, he set off for Rhakote, the capital of Ptolemeia.
And so, he had spent the last six days sailing up the Iteru River. Mostly, he sat watching the brilliant blue waves lap against the sides of the boat. They reminded him of a certain pair of eyes. And the owner of those eyes was just as impossible to grasp as the water of the Iteru, which rose and flooded the long valley in one season, but fled back to its banks in the next.
Oishi squatted beside him on the deck. He had accompanied Tezuka for more than ten years, and was less intimidated by the stern general than most of the other men.
"Ptolemeia feels like home now, doesn't it?" he said.
"Mm," Tezuka agreed, dipping a hand into the water.
"They say the water of the Iteru is the source of all life," Oishi offered, his voice floating across the river. "It provides water for the people and their herds, and every year it carries new soil so that the crops will grow."
"Yes," Tezuka said. "It sustains." Cupping some of the water in his palm, he brought it to his lips. The cool liquid slid over his tongue, down his throat. "Away from it, life withers."
Oishi's lips tightened, and he looked away to the other side of the water, where the reeds rattled and swayed in the breeze that was carrying them closer to Rhakote and Fuji, and ever further away from Alba.
***
They arrived in Rhakote on the following day. As soon as the boat touched the dock, Tezuka sprang to his feet. Once again, there was no sign of Fuji, but Tezuka knew where he would be waiting. After days of waiting, his feet touched the shores as last
"Tezuka, at least take an escort appropriate to your station," Oishi called after him. Tezuka turned back for a moment, and put a hand to the hilt of the sword at his waist. Whether the reunion went ill or well, he wanted it to be private. Oishi should remember that he was still a soldier, one of the masters of Alba.
Without another glance back, he headed down a path by the river to the pavilion where he knew Fuji would be waiting. His stride was quick, although not so hurried as to forget his dignity. He had left off his gilded armor and trappings of rank, and other than the fine engravings on the hilt of his sword, there was nothing to distinguish him from any common Alban soldier with skin grown tan from four years of being stationed in Ptolemeia.
The servant Eiji was stationed at the locked iron gate that blocked the path down to the pavilion-or at least, he was supposed to be. Instead, he leaned back against it, his eyes closed. At the sound of Tezuka's footsteps, he opened them lazily, and then leaped to his feet with a wide smile.
"Hello-!"
Tezuka cleared his throat.
"I mean, greetings, my lord! The Pharaoh is expecting you down at the pavilion."
Tezuka nodded, and Eiji fitted a key from his belt into the lock. Tezuka almost asked him what sort of mood Fuji was in, but decided that he would know soon enough. Quite against his will, his heart began to pound, and at the sight of the pavilion which had been in his dreams for half a year, something deep within him stirred.
Unlike many of Fuji's retreats, it was not an especially extravagant pavilion-only a simple wooden roof covering a floor of old mosaics, surrounded by sycamores and lotus trees. Fuji reclined on a pile of cushions at the far end, gazing at the river flowing by. He did not look up at Tezuka's approach.
In the months that Tezuka had been away, Fuji had only grown more radiant. Today, in the heat of summer, he wore nothing but a pleated linen kilt and a heavy collar of gold and lapis lazuli, which matched the brightness of his eyes. Tezuka immediately noticed that around each ankle was a strand of carnelian beads, a gift which Tezuka had given him several years before.
His hair was the true wonder. Most men of Ptolemeia cropped theirs or shaved it entirely, and wore expensive wigs in its stead. But Fuji, probably as an act of willfulness, had never cut his. Thick and lustrous, when it was unbound, it fell past his waist. Now, it had been plaited into dozens of tiny braids that fanned across his shoulders and covered his bare back.
Fuji finally looked up to meet his gaze from beneath darkened lashes. Tezuka's breath caught in his throat.
"Tezuka," said the ruler of Ptolemeia, his lips curving upward in a calm smile. "The wind said that you would return today."
"I sent a message," Tezuka reminded him. Fuji's mysticism made him uncomfortable.
"The message told me that you were returning to Ptolemeia," Fuji said, his voice half singsong. "But it was the wind on the waves and the birds in the sky that brought news of you to Rhakote."
"Can you always read the future in such ways?" Tezuka asked, curious in spite of himself.
Fuji laughed.
"No," he said. "Yumiko taught me to see the signs, but I don't understand them as clearly as she did. A loss for Ptolemeia." He rose to his feet, and offered a hand to Tezuka.
Tezuka accepted it. Fuji's hands were smooth, the nails round and decorated with henna. He was so unlike the rough men of Alba, who prided themselves on their rugged solidity. But Fuji was delicate, like a sculpture of the finest marble, not a tool of war, and the sight of him fed Tezuka's eyes in a way that his homeland could not.
Not that Tezuka would dare to underestimate Fuji's skill with a sword-he had made that mistake once, and it would not happen again.
With his free hand, Fuji reached up and lightly brushed Tezuka's lips.
"I did not think you would return," he said. "When you left, you seemed so determined to fulfill your duties. Your place is in Alba."
Tezuka moved Fuji's hand and placed it on his chest, directly over his heart.
"It beats for you."
***
"Can you believe that he left for Ptolemeia without informing me?" Atobe demanded. His fist was clenched around the golden border of his rich purple toga.
"All too well," Oshitari drawled, draining his cup and placing it on the central table. With a sigh of impatience, Atobe gestured for the slaves to pour more wine. "Although the two of you are supposed to rule Alba together, he pays you surprisingly little regard."
"He was a good friend once," Atobe said. "Loyal to my father. And as a general, Alba has never seen his match. But since I sent him to Ptolemeia four years ago-"
"He's done nothing to secure our control of the country," Oshitari broke in. "And he's done nothing to ensure that we receive the necessary grain supply."
"Exactly," Atobe said. "He's supposed to be ruling the place, not being ruled. And when he returned, he swore he would do his duty. But as soon as I turn around, he goes skulking back to that lover of his!"
"I see the true problem," Oshitari said, smiling wryly. "The great Atobe, son of the gods and master of Alba, does not deal well with being jilted."
Atobe made a noise of disgust.
"The liaison was your idea," he said. "Who would have thought that my prodigious charms would be insufficient to hold him?"
"Perhaps it was not a good idea," Oshitari admitted. "You may have driven him away, in the end. You're a handsome man, Atobe, as you are well aware. And when it comes to power, you have no match. But you could never compete with Fuji for Tezuka's heart."
"And why not?" Atobe asked, intrigued, despite his annoyance with the situation.
"Have you ever seen him?"
"No. Why?"
"I have," Oshitari said. "Once, about ten years ago, when I was serving under your father. He went to Ptolemeia on a diplomatic mission."
"Fuji must have been a mere child then," Atobe commented.
"Yes, he's a little younger than you. He was twelve-they called him Syuusuke. His sister, Fuji Yumiko was Pharaoh at the time, and he wasn't yet even her co-ruler."
"They say that Yumiko was extraordinarily beautiful," Atobe said.
"The most beautiful woman in the world," Oshitari agreed, a gleam in his eye. "Your father was quite fond of her, you know."
Atobe glared at him.
"I know what my father was like," he said. "I'm asking you about Fuji. The brother."
"He's very much like her. You could see it even then. The shape of the face, the movements, the manner of speaking-he was a very pretty child, and it was obvious that he had inherited her beauty, or perhaps she consciously shaped him in her mold. There's something about both of them that makes it impossible to look away."
"Is it possible to be that beautiful?" Atobe asked, running a hand through his own silver hair.
"It's not anything physical, really," Oshitari said. "But Yumiko could hold anyone, if she chose. It didn't matter if she smiled, or wept, or screamed. Nobody would ever tire of beauty like that. And I could tell that Syuusuke would be the same, maybe more so. He had the most remarkable eyes…lapis lazuli eyes."
"I wouldn't have thought that Tezuka would care at all about beauty."
Oshitari smiled.
"You never knew him as a comrade, but I served with him under your father, and fought alongside him in many battles. Beneath that face of stone, he's an unusually passionate man."
***
Fuji's lips felt cool against the flushed skin of Tezuka's neck. One hand rested on his lover's bare chest. With the other, he reached out to pull the draperies more securely around the bed.
"Are you awake?" he asked.
Tezuka opened his eyes.
"Yes," he said. "What is it?"
"Is it true that you and Atobe were lovers while you were in Alba?" Fuji murmured into his ear.
Tezuka flinched. He had known that there must have been rumors, but trust Fuji to bring them up at such a time.
Even if Fuji had not known Tezuka too well to misunderstand the reaction, Tezuka was not a man to tell lies.
"Lovers isn't the right word for it," he said bluntly. "He offered himself to me. Ah!"
Fuji had taken the skin of Tezuka's neck between his teeth and bitten down hard. Tezuka reached up and felt a drop of blood.
"He didn't want you," Fuji hissed. "And he won't take you."
"He wanted my loyalty," Tezuka said. "And I owe it to him. His father made me one of the most powerful men in Alba. But my loyalty, along with my heart, belongs to you. It was yours, since the first time I saw you."
Fuji's arms, which were wrapped tight as serpents around Tezuka's torso, relaxed.
"The first time you saw me?" he repeated. "When was that, Tezuka? Was it when you came to Ptolemeia with Atobe's father."
"I did see you then. You don't remember?"
"No. Did we meet?"
"Only briefly," Tezuka said.
Fuji frowned.
"Yumiko was killed that week. I've forgotten many things."
"Don't worry about it," Tezuka said, running a hand through Fuji's hair. "You were young then."
"So you fell in love with me at first sight?" Fuji quipped.
"Don't be ridiculous. You were twelve. You called me an old man."
Fuji's laugh was light and airy.
"I suppose a man of twenty seemed old to me when I was twelve. And besides, you do tend to be rather serious, Tezuka!" He swung his legs around Tezuka's waist. "But I do remember when we met four years ago. You presented the official greetings from Atobe, and hardly said anything. Then you stared at me for a long time, and gave me these." He dangled his carnelian anklets in the air. Suddenly, his expression his grew serious, and he opened his eyes wide. "Is there going to be trouble with Atobe?"
"I don't know," Tezuka said. "He thinks we are dangerous. He doesn't trust me anymore. If he decides that I can't be trusted here any longer, or that he needs to tighten his control on Ptolemeia, who knows what he may do."
"Tezuka, we can't fight against Alba! Ptolemeia would be crushed."
"I doubt it will come to that," Tezuka said.
It was the first time in his life that he had said something to Fuji that was not quite true.
"Ptolemeia is my responsibility!" Fuji said, his voice fierce. "Yumiko left it to me. I won't let Alba touch it, no matter what."
"Neither will I," Tezuka said, clasping his hand.
"You've endangered both of us by coming here!" Fuji said, glaring at him. "You should have stayed in Alba and served Atobe."
"I've fought a hundred campaigns and a thousand battles for my country," Tezuka said. "My place is by your side now."
"Then truly, love makes fools of men," Fuji murmured, and Tezuka could not disagree.
***
"Is all of this really necessary?" Atobe asked, gazing out at the ships that lined the harbor, and the soldiers that assembled on their decks.
"You know it is," Oshitari said. "That's why you gave the order for them to be readied. Tezuka is a danger to you. And if we don't secure the grain supply from Ptolemeia, Alba will starve."
"I still can't bring myself to think of Tezuka as an enemy," Atobe said. "His heart is no longer here in Alba, but he would never rise against us, his old comrades. He is not capable of disloyalty."
"He will do whatever Fuji asks of him," Oshitari said, his voice grim. "And I believe that Fuji is capable of anything."
"My father told me that Tezuka should serve as an advisor, to rule Alba by my side. How can I go to war with him?"
"He might come to his senses, once he sees the ships approaching Ptolemeia."
"You don't think so, do you Oshitari?"
Oshitari sighed.
"No. I don't think he's going to see reason. I don't think he can. Unfortunately, the rumors are going to say that you declared war in a rage, after being jilted."
"You keep bringing that up," Atobe said, glaring at him. "I don't really hold any resentment over it. He was a good enough lover, or he would have been if his heart had not been elsewhere." His eyes went distant for a moment, staring out across the harbor. "I think the liaison is what my father wanted. In a world without Fuji, we would have made fine partners, ruled Alba together. Conquered the world, perhaps, instead of fighting each other."
"Passion has no place in the heart of an Alban soldier," Oshitari commented. "It can only turn him from the path of greatness."
"My father knew that well," Atobe said. "Although, I think he was truly fond of Fuji Yumiko. He grieved when she was killed. I regret it as well-we might have avoided some of this mess we are in now!"
Oshitari raised an eyebrow.
"And before you ask," Atobe said impatiently, "I was not the one who sent the assassin."
"Your mother, then?"
"Yes. I had not yet been named heir to Alba, and Yumiko was carrying my father's child. My mother was used to my father's lovers, but she could not bear the threat to me. So my mother eliminated them. If I had been older, I probably would have seen to it myself, although I can't really believe that my father would have set Yumiko's child above me."
"You realize that Fuji must blame you for his sister's death?"
"If he's a wise ruler, he will put that aside and make peace with Alba."
"Yes," Oshitari mused. "Tezuka we cannot reason with, but Fuji may be another matter entirely."
***
Tezuka leaned back in the hot water with a groan. As accustomed as he had become to Ptolemeian life, he was grateful that Fuji Yumiko had installed an Alban-style bathing complex in her palace in Rhakote. He could do without the coarse food and rough clothing of his homeland, but there was no substitute for a real bath. And while he was still a man in his prime, if no longer a youth, some of his old war wounds ached from time to time.
A long, raised scar streaked from his right shoulder to his left hip, a souvenir from a barbarian with a spear that he had acquired during the old Atobe's campaign in Gallia. A dent in his right leg marked the resting place of a stray arrow, during the all-too-recent civil wars. His back was layered with a network of fine lines, scars from repeated floggings at the age of sixteen by a corrupt centurion who he had refused to bribe-once the centurion was exposed, Tezuka's stubborn honesty had brought him to the notice of Atobe's father, which in turn had led to a stellar military career.
His body was a map of war and conflict, which spread his life's adventures plain for all to see. How strange that the true marks which had shaped him could not be perceived by the eye-the break in his left arm, for example, inflicted in his youth by jealous 'friends', which had left the limb useless for half a year. In the meantime, he learned to hold a sword with his right arm, and his ambidexterity only made him more deadly a swordsman. It was the suffering and frustration of those months that had hardened his spirit and given him courage beyond measure.
And then, there were the bonds on his heart, stronger than iron and more eternal than stone. It was in this very room that they had been formed.
Tezuka was alone in the bathing room, except for a stranger, who hung back in the shadows as if he thought Tezuka could not sense him hidden there. But Tezuka heard his bare feet pad against the red and white mosaic floor.
"Come out," Tezuka said at last, reaching for his dagger where it lay beside the pool.
"All right," said a high voice. It was a young boy in a loincloth, with long brown hair and heavily lidded eyes in a pretty face. Tezuka had not seen him before, but recognized him at once-he must the crown prince, the Pharaoh's brother.
"Hello," the boy said. "You have a lot of scars. You must be very old."
Tezuka frowned. The boy was at least twelve, and clearly soft and indulged. At that age, an Alban youth would already be drilling with the soldiers.
"I'm twenty," he said.
"Oh!" the boy said. "That is not as old as I thought! Yumiko is older. But when you frown like that, it makes you look like an old man." He plopped down on the edge of the pool and dipped his legs into the warm water. "My name is Syuusuke. What is yours?"
"Kunimitsu, of the Tezuka family," he said.
Syuusuke's brow wrinkled in confusion.
"Should I call you Tezuka, or Kunimitsu?"
"Almost everyone calls me Tezuka."
Syuusuke's smile widened.
"Then I will call you Kunimitsu!"
"If you wish," Tezuka said. At that moment, Syuusuke's eyes opened fully, and they were of such a radiant blue that Tezuka almost forgot to breathe.
"You have lapis lazuli eyes," he blurted. Syuusuke tilted his head to one side, still staring. In appearance and behavior he seemed rather young for his age, and there was innocence about him, but the look in his eyes made him seem almost ancient.
"Are they?" he asked. "Yumiko always says that they are the color of the river Iteru."
They sat there in silence for a moment. Tezuka could tell that the prince wanted to ask him something, and he waited.
"Kunimitsu, are you in love with anyone?" Syuusuke said.
Tezuka blinked, a little surprised.
"No," he said. "Why?"
Syuusuke regarded him gravely.
"I like you," he said.
Rendered speechless, Tezuka struggled to think of a response to this unseemly declaration of affection from the crown prince of Ptolemeia. While he floundered, Syuusuke slid into the bath and wrapped his arms around Tezuka's neck. Tezuka almost froze. Instead, he gently detached the boy.
"You're a prince, Syuusuke, and still young. You mustn't behave like this."
"When I'm older, then?" Syuusuke asked, still smiling and completely nonplussed. "Shall we be lovers?"
Blushing furiously, Tezuka was tempted to utter a vehement refusal, but something in the boy's gaze held him back. He felt as if he was addressing an equal, not a child, and he replied as if it was so.
"We'll see," he said. "When you are a man, you may not feel the same way. And when you are Pharaoh, you may not be free to do as you please."
"Oh, I'm not going to be Pharaoh," Syuusuke said, his voice cheerful. "Yumiko is going to have a baby, and it will be Pharaoh after her, so I can love whoever I want. Good-bye, Kunimitsu!" he said, getting to his feet. "Please return in a few years."
The Alban delegation had departed from Ptolemeia the next day, and by the end of the week the reigning Pharaoh-Fuji Yumiko-was dead, along with the unborn Atobe child she carried. Her brother was immediately crowned and anointed as the twentieth Pharaoh Fuji.
Tezuka had gone with Atobe's father to the wars in Gallia, and after that had been other long wars in Alba, civil wars, and he had risen from a respected soldier to the second most powerful man in Alba. After the death of Atobe's father, when the young Atobe had assumed power, Tezuka had been appointed his advisor and co-ruler of sorts.
Something about that strange meeting six years earlier had struck Tezuka's very core. He had not been able to forget the boy, or his promise, or his blazing eyes. And so, he had willingly accepted an assignment to govern and represent Alba in Ptolemeia.
The Pharaoh, Fuji, had received Tezuka graciously, and accepted his gift of carnelian anklets, but had given no sign of recognition. Tezuka admitted to himself that he was disappointed, that he had expected more.
The boy who had been, Syuusuke, was gone, and in his place was a beautiful youth just on the brink of manhood, sleekly muscular, and with something a little frightening in his expression. Unlike the child, who had been endearingly genuine, the man often feigned indifference, or remained distant from Tezuka. He could be moody, unpredictable, and his constant smile was sometimes cruel. As a lover he was passionate, and fiercely possessive, but although he made it clear he desired Tezuka's embrace and accepted his declarations of love, he made none in return.
And yet, the eyes were still blue as the river Iteru, and they seemed to see beyond what other men could, into a realm of spirits and ghosts and the truth of men's hearts. And sometimes, in them, Tezuka saw the echo of the boy who had been, before he had seen his sister slain.
The boy and the man both, they held him more strongly than chains of iron, or duty, or love of glory.
***
It was his day of leisure, and Oishi was walking in the market when somebody barreled into him from behind, knocking him over and sending them both tumbling in the dust. He was about to reach for his knife, when he saw a familiar head of red hair.
"Eiji!" he said, taking Fuji's servant by the shoulders and lifting him off the ground. "What's wrong? I thought you were away from Rhakote, visiting the port."
"Ships!" the redhead gasped. "There are ships in the harbor, at the mouth of the Iteru! Alban ships! Atobe's ships!"
Oishi paled, inwardly cursing in all the languages he knew. When he and Tezuka had left Alba, he had known that this day would come, but he had been unable to prevent it.
"Have they attacked?" he demanded, shaking his friend until his teeth rattled. "How many are there? Have they made any demands?"
Eiji shook his head.
"I saw them arriving, and I came as fast as I could. That was three days ago. There's at least a hundred of them, and they're armed for war."
"But you don't know what they want?"
"It must be Tezuka," Eiji said miserably. "What else could it be?"
"It must be," Oishi echoed. "It must be. Oh, I knew this would happen!"
"Enough!" a stern voice ordered. Oishi and Eiji both jumped.
"T-tezuka!" Oishi stammered. "I just heard-"
Tezuka's grim expression did not waver.
"I know. I heard it myself, not an hour ago. Gather the men, and leave for the harbor to see that the ships are ready."
"Tezuka-," Oishi began, finding himself unable to speak. "I…"
"After that, you are free to go," Tezuka said.
Oishi's jaw dropped.
"When we left Alba, you told me that you did not wish to ever fight against your own people. I promised that I would never ask you or any man to go against his country, or disgrace his family, or turn traitor in my service. You may leave, along with any others of the men who wish to do so. I will make do with those who remain, and the mercenaries, and the Ptolemeian navy."
Oishi's face twisted in agony, but he nodded and saluted Tezuka. Eiji cried out as if he had been struck.
"You can't go! You can't go!"
Tezuka turned back towards the palace, and left them there, Eiji clinging to Oishi's legs and sobbing like a child.
"Good-bye," Oishi said, as gently as he could. "Maybe we'll meet again."
"Promise you won't fight, if there is a battle," Eiji said through his tears.
"I promise," Oishi said, putting a hand on his head. "I can't fight Alba, but I would never fight Tezuka." In truth, he wasn't sure if he would have a choice. If Atobe ordered him to fight, it would be treason to disobey.
"I hate Tezuka!" Eiji hissed. "He seduced Fuji, and then Atobe, and made everyone unhappy, and now you have to leave!"
Oishi offered his hand. "Will you walk with me to the boat?"
Eiji took it, and they headed for the river.
"What do the Albans believe happens to dead people?" he asked, his voice soft.
"I was always told that they become shades, in the Underworld," Oishi replied. "Empty and grey. Unless they are very special, like Atobe's father, in which case they go to live among the gods."
"But ordinary people become ghosts? If two people love each other, and they are separated, do they meet again when they are dead?"
"I don't know," Oishi said. "I never really liked the idea of shades. What do the Ptolemeians say?"
"Some of us also believe in the Underworld, where souls are judged," Eiji said. "But the old Pharaoh, Yumiko, who was very wise, said that when the soul leaves the body, it joins the waters of the Iteru. All life was born from there, and when we die, to there we return. And so we will always be with the people we love, because while they live we help to give them life, and when they die, they join us there in the water."
***
If the visitor had hoped to take Fuji by surprise, he did not succeed.
"Oshitari Yuushi, wasn't it?" Fuji asked, gesturing for the man to have a seat, and offering him a bowl of fresh grapes.
"Indeed," Oshitari said, regarding him intently. "I'm honored that you remember me. I don't believe we ever actually met."
"No," Fuji said. "But I saw you when you were in Ptolemeia ten years ago, and I never forget a face." He smiled.
"I saw you as well," Oshitari said, smiling back at him. "And you have grown up to be more beautiful than I imagined, if you don't mind my saying so."
"Say what you wish," Fuji murmured, surveying him from under lashes dusted with gold. "But you didn't sneak into my palace in order to exchange pleasantries."
"I imagine you also wanted to speak to me," Oshitari said, popping a grape into his mouth. "Or I would not be here now."
"Of course not," Fuji said. "After what happened to Yumiko, I am very careful about assassins. So, what does Atobe want with me?"
"Grain," Oshitari said, startling Fuji. "And a bargain. He wants to ensure that Alba will not starve this winter. If you agree to cooperate, we will not attack."
"That's all?" Fuji rolled a grape between his fingers without bringing it to his lips. "To secure the safety of my country, it doesn't sound like a bad deal."
"No," Oshitari said. "He wants Tezuka."
"Tezuka is mine," Fuji said, his expression never wavering.
"If you try to keep Tezuka, he and Atobe will fight. He may die. Ptolemeia may be conquered, or destroyed entirely. Tezuka may be a fool in love, Fuji, but I do not think you are so blind. Convince him to go back to Alba-even as a private citizen-and the matter will be ended."
Fuji did not speak.
Oshitari leaned forward.
"If you love him-and I think you must, for he is a good man-you should let him go."
"He will never go, even if I ask it of him, or spit in his face, or drive him away with curses. As long as I live…" Fuji's eyes widened. "Oshitari, if I can send Tezuka back to you, will you spare my Ptolemeia?"
"I give you my word, and Atobe's."
"I will do it," Fuji said. "Now, please go."
Oshitari bowed.
"As your majesty commands," he said, and was gone.
Fuji leaned back on the couch with a sigh. He knew what he had to do-if Tezuka learned that he was dead, surely he would leave Ptolemeia and return to Alba.
He did not want to part with Tezuka, but it was for the best. He did not want to see Tezuka die in battle because of him, and he knew that Tezuka would never be captured alive.
And besides, he had lied to Tezuka, used him, treated him cruelly, and taken advantage of his love. The fact that he loved Tezuka and could not stop loving him no matter how he tried only made him more despicable. He was the Pharaoh. He had to put his responsibility to his people above his love for a single man.
"Eiji!" he called, and his servant entered the room, his eyes as red as his hair, and his face streaked with tears. "Eiji, I want you to do something for me."
***
Tezuka stood on a cliff above the Iteru, watching white dots in the distance grow. Atobe's ships were coming, bristling for battle like a pack of savage wolves. Tezuka's own ships and men were ready, but they were vastly outnumbered. The Ptolemeian navy and his mercenary soldiers had little hope of resisting Atobe's superior forces.
However, he, Tezuka Kunimitsu, was the finest general in the Alban Empire, or had been once. Atobe was still young and inexperienced. The situation was not hopeless.
But how many men would die, how many ships would burn before the battle would be over. And if he won it, would Atobe not flee and return with even greater forces?
In his heart, he knew that it was the end-if not today, than next month perhaps. But if he could win today, he might have another month with Fuji. As it was, he had left Rhakote without a chance to say farewell. He hoped he would not regret it.
"Sir!" one of his soldiers called, saluting him. "There's a message from Rhakote. Rode the horse nearly into the ground, too."
It was Eiji, looking completely disheveled. His tunic was filthy and torn in several places, and one of his sandals was missing. He hobbled over to Tezuka, gasping. His eyes were wide and frenzied.
"He's dead," he croaked. "My lord's dead."
***
It was only a day after Eiji had left that he returned to Rhakote.
Fuji was waiting at the pavilion in which he and Tezuka had shared so many happy moments. By this time, Tezuka should have returned safely to Atobe and Oshitari and set sail for Alba, the battle averted.
But the water of the Iteru was unsettled. Its murmur was trying to tell him something. Yumiko would have understood, but Fuji could only wait and wonder.
"Back so soon?" Fuji asked when Eiji entered the pavilion, trying to conceal his own anxiety. "Did all go as planned?"
"Fuji…" Eiji whispered, taking his hand.
Fuji saw something strange in his eyes, something terrible.
"Tell me!" he ordered. Eiji licked his parched lips, opened his mouth, and began to speak.
Tezuka stared at him, uncomprehending.
"Who is dead?" he asked.
"The Pharaoh. Fuji is dead." Eiji tried to keep his voice steady, terrified that he would not be able to maintain the lie. He wasn't much of an actor, but Fuji was counting on him to make the plan succeed.
Tezuka's eyes went blank, as if he had suddenly grown blind. He trembled, drew in a gasping breath, and sank to his knees. For a long time he knelt there, and Eiji thought he might have gone mad.
"Dead?" he said at last. "How?"
Eiji bit his lip, hating the suffering he was putting the man through.
"He killed himself," he said quickly, forcing out the words. "I was there. He didn't want to…to…"
But Tezuka was already stumbling towards the cliff. He stopped for a moment and smiled, the first time Eiji had ever seen him smile.
"He would not leave thinking I would not follow," he said. "I vowed to stay by his side. If he waits there, even death is life." He stood at the very edge, staring down into the brilliant blue of the water flowing by.
"Wait!" Eiji cried, understanding, at last.
Tezuka stepped forward.
Fuji threw back his head and laughed until tears ran down his cheeks. The voice that came forth was harsh and strained, as if all the air had been sucked from his lungs.
"What a fool I was!" he cried. "So arrogant, to believe that I loved him the best. And I killed him!" He doubled over and began to sob.
"No!" Eiji shouted, seizing his wrist. "You didn't mean to."
"No," Fuji whispered, his face suddenly calm. "I didn't mean to. But from the day I first loved him, I doomed him to die. There's no place in this world that we could love each other, living. But he could not live without me, and now that he's dead I see that I am the same. Go away, Eiji."
"My lord?"
"I don't want the memory of this to burden you. Go find Oishi. And carry word of this to Atobe. One last message."
Without looking back, Fuji walked towards the river, his unbound hair billowing behind him in the breeze.
"Is your soul waiting here in the river, Tezuka?" he asked. "Are you waiting for me there? You wouldn't go ahead alone, would you?"
He stepped into the water, felt it close around over his bare feet. He stretched his arms out wide and moved deeper, embracing the numbness. The Iteru welcomed him like he was a long lost child returning to its mother's arms. The water brushing against his cheeks was like a tender caress, the water pouring into his mouth was ambrosia.
"I will travel a thousand, thousand miles with you, Kunimitsu. The Iteru will take us there together."
***
"I wouldn't have thought it of either of them," Atobe said. He was exhausted, and he could feel the beginning of a massive headache.
"Of course not!" Oshitari said, a little wildly. "Who would have thought that Tezuka would kill himself upon hearing of Fuji's death, and that Fuji would do the same as soon as word of it reached him? It's completely mad!" He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.
"At least there will be no war," Atobe said. "The people of Ptolemeia will not die in a useless battle. The people of Alba will not starve for lack of grain."
"That's true," Oshitari agreed. "And Ptolemeia is yours now. Fuji left no heir."
"I didn't want Tezuka to die," Atobe said. "Or Fuji, either. It was the last thing I wanted. But I am the ruler of Alba, and I know that they will not be the last men to die because of me."
"That is the responsibility that both Fuji and Tezuka died to avoid," Oshitari said, with a bitter smile. "Love was what they wanted, the fools. But you and I, who have no such passion, have an empire to run."
"Still," Atobe said. "May the gods spare me from a love like theirs. It was too great for human hearts to bear."
END