When Ja-kal met Rath. Just some fluff.
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Most times, Ja-kal was happy to stick to his brother’s side within the palace. It was a large, awe-inspiring place, the royal family, dignitaries from far lands, and heroes of war alike walked its grand halls, and a lone boy could get swallowed in it. Both Ja-kal and Arakh were old enough now to follow their father’s steps in those halls on the occasion he was needed within, rather than out hunting with his men, but when he was busy in meetings with fellow nobles or making plans, the two were allowed a bit of wandering.
But today Arakh’s usual boisterous harrying was too much and so Ja-kal made his escape and did some exploring on his own. Ra was high in the sky now, the beams of his light only slanted in through windows slightly, yet the white gleaming walls kept the halls bright, the murals nigh sparkling in their color. Ja-kal followed them, finger tracing over figures, animals, and plants, moments of serenity and excitement both captured here for all to remember.
His finger swooped along the Nile, under a royal barque, and around a corner. The dimming of light caught his attention and he looked up. He was heading into an inner room, protected all round and windowless, and about to turn around when voices made him pause. He abandoned the murals and followed those instead. There were guards, but they merely glanced at him. They were familiar to Ja-kal, even if he didn’t know their names, and with his confident steps they thought little of him. Alright then.
He slipped into the inner chamber by the wall, stealth a habit taught by his father, and looked around. In the center of the chamber, lit by one small skylight and torches, men clustered around a table. It was covered in maps and figures, and lying on it was the royal scepter and flail. The Pharaoh leaned over that table, gesturing to points on the map and in deep discussion with generals and guards. Beside the Pharaoh was the prince Amenhotep, listening and quiet, but standing among the men as one of them now, instead of merely learning. He had proven himself in the recent battle of some months ago, despite his young age.
Something else caught Ja-kal’s attention though. Leaning on the same wall which he crept was Amenhotep’s guardian, easily recognized by his snake regalia, a gift from the Pharaoh after the battle. The man was still, arms crossed and eyes locked on the discussion, save when they flicked to Ja-kal to note his presence.
Ja-kal stopped and looked up at him, though not very far. He’d seen the guardian before, of course, the Prince’s constant shadow, but never this close. The Sword of Wadjet they called him, though Ja-kal wondered if that caused confusion, considering the large sword strapped to his back.
The Fang of Wadjet. More than a name, it was literal. They said the goddess Wadjet had pulled it from her own mouth and forged it into a sword right there on the battlefield, gifting it to the guardian. It was all so...legendary that Ja-kal couldn’t help but clear his throat and speak.
“O Guardian…” he began, whispering to not interrupt the discussions at the table.
The guardian’s head snapped around and looked at Ja-kal, eyes wide, as though just now seeing him despite the earlier glance. He said nothing but raised his eyebrows in question, though Ja-kal nearly missed it, partially obscured as they were by his winged snake headdress.
The boy hesitated, then went for it, unable to hide his childish enthusiasm. “Can I see your godblade?”
The guardian gaped at him a second, then rolled his eyes.
Ja-kal sighed in disappointment, awaiting his dismissal, but instead the man reached back and took hold of the sword’s hilt. The cloth wrappings around it and him loosening of their own accord and the sword came free. He turned it and held it out hilt-first to the boy.
“Be careful.” His voice was pitched higher than Ja-kal imaged, and there was tilt in the command that reminded him of his mother.
It was still sound advice, as Ja-kal took hold of the sword with one hand and proceeded to almost drop it before he grabbed it with the second. It was heavy! Well, it should be, it was a snake goddess’ fang. Ja-kal held it up, feeling the weight and perfect balance.
It was as curved and white as a crescent moon, gleaming even in the dim room. About the golden root coiled a snake so deep a green in color Ja-kal thought it might be alive. But the sword was, in a way, no doubt, and was whispering to him to wield it…
He nearly did, raising it as though to strike, when Ja-kal noticed the guardian watching him, face impassive...maybe bored. He swallowed and lowered the blade slightly.
“Uh, may I…?” he tilted the sword to show his intention.
Another eye roll. “Just mind where it and others are,” he insisted quietly, “and yourself.”
Ja-kal beamed, his excitement seeming to flow into the Fang of Wadjet and return to him, and he stepped closer to an empty, dark corner of the room. He raised the sword and swung it sideways and oh!
The sword was heavy, but once in motion it flew. It’s shape cut through the air and like a bird’s wing was lifted by it, leaping and weightless. Ja-kal spun and swung it again; it cost so little to wield this heavy blade, and how it sang to his inner ear…! For a moment he was a great warrior, a protector, a hero of stories his father would tell.
He remembered himself before he laughed aloud, much as he wanted to, and lowered the blade. He returned to the guardian and held it out the hilt to him with a small bow.
The man reached out and took the sword, placing it back on his back. “In recompense.”
“Hm?” Ja-kal watched wide-eyed as the ‘tail’ of the regalia wrapped back around the sword, covering the blade and holding it to the guardian once more. “For what?”
The guardian inhaled deeply before letting the air back out through his nose. “That’s my name. R’ath.”
“Oh…” he trailed off, not sure how to answer that in a way that wasn’t rude. Who would name their child that? Fortunately the guardian’s attention was back on his charge, currently speaking to one of the generals.
Ja-kal was spared a further awkward moment as the guardian...Rath...returned his eyes to him. “Who are you?”
Oh, right, he hadn’t introduced himself. “Ja-kal, son of Kir-sul,” he added another small bow.
Rath tapped a finger to his lips in thought. “Ah, yes, the royal huntsman.”
Another long silence as once again Rath’s attention returned to the men at the table. Ja-kal bounced on the balls of his feet a little, eyes on the sword at the guardian’s back.
“Did Wadjet really give that to you during the battle?”
Rath’s shoulders tightened at the question, his hands waving helplessly in the air, “It’s...yes and no.” Charms bound to wrappings around his right hand rang quietly as he dropped his hands to his side and glowered at Ja-kal. He looked back at the men at the table, then down to the boy, eyes narrowed. “Are you supposed to be in here?” he asked slowly.
“Uh…” he too looked to the important men making plans and discussing things a boy his age could only know but a little. No one had stopped his entering, but Ja-kal knew he shouldn’t lie. “...Probably not.”
Rath glared and gave a sharp gesture, almost as sharp as the “Shhht!” accompanying it. “Out, before we both get in trouble!” he hissed.
The idea of the prince’s guardian getting in trouble along with him finally did make Ja-kal laugh as he spun back to the doorway out of this dim yet important place. He stopped at the threshold and gave one final, playful bow. “Thank you, O Great Guardian Rath!” When he straightened he almost missed the tug of a smile at Rath’s mouth.
Ja-kal hurried down the hall back out to sunlight. He couldn’t wait to tell Arakh about it all.
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