The Last Place On Earth

Author: Kerry ~Aja
Pairing: ViggOrli, Harry/Orli
Series: Last Place On Earth
Rating: R
Summary: Orlando tells Harry of his first life.
Note: Originally written for a challenge from dh, this fic was 'finished'. Now, thanks to Nisi, it's being expanded, so I've changed some things in order to fit four new chapters in.
Warning: AU fic. May be angsty in parts. Death/reincarnation. Non-con in later chapters. Cheery stuff. ~grin~
Disclaimer: Totally made up. All of it's lies.


CITY OF THE SUN


"I used to wake early because I liked watching the sun rise over the desert beyond our city. Sometimes I wouldn't even get to bed, if it was a late night. But, usually, I would sleep for a few hours until I was woken by the workers moving in the streets. They always began their day before dawn, before the sun's heat became too great to bear. In my line of work, of course, things were the opposite. They toiled by day, my wealth was earned by the light of the moon and the stars. This particular morning began like many had before it. I woke to darkness. Far to the east of me, I could see the shadows of great pyramids, with the dawn breaking lazily behind them. I had slept that night with cattle keeping me warm, but now they were beginning to move in anticipation of the day ahead. So I left them, before their master arrived, and walked the streets eastward for a while.

I felt like a stranger to this place. All the years after my Father died, I had a feeling like I didn't belong. Everything about me was so different.

The only people who needed me were the lonely, those dissatisfied with their wives, and the warriors. If I was lucky, somebody of importance would require me for a night. I would be allowed to sleep somewhere soft and sheltered. I slept with a Priest once, but when I touched the skin he wore, he beat me. I was little beyond eighteen, and still had a lot to learn.

Anyway, I walked, silently thanking Amon-Re for the sun as He began to lift away the dark world of night. I let myself be near-blinded by it sometimes, staring openly when I knew I should not. Sometimes the Priests would beat me for that, as well. But I didn't complain. I knew my place. I continued east for a reason more important than blinding myself that morning. I was expected at the Temple. I had a fair idea of why, so I didn't tarry."

Harry listened, fascinated and unwilling to interrupt. He could almost feel the sun on his skin. Orlando continued.

"When I arrived, I was taken inside the temple and to a room where slaves were normally not allowed to tread. I was then clothed in richer linen than I had ever seen before. White flax, and the women had bound me a length of leather and blue feathers that made me think of a Sunbird. A young priest dressed me, saying nothing of how pale my skin was, or how short my hair. Apparently he had been told I was an oddity. He tied the leather around my arm and left. And.. that's when the High Priest came in. I think I almost fainted," Orlando said, with a wry smile. He was rubbing his arm absently, Harry noticed, maybe remembering where the leather had been.

"I thought maybe it was him who had asked for me, but it wasn't. It was worse. A foreign Prince had been brought to our city some months ago, and the King had remolded him into something else. A man fit to live as a Vassal to the King. He'd been given the name Pamiu, which to me seemed an insult. But what did I know? As thanks for Pamiu's loyalty, the King was gifting him with a worthy slave. Me. Oh, he would have a few other slaves for more menial tasks, but I was to give him pleasure. I didn't know if I should be proud or ashamed that I had the kind of reputation that would draw the King himself to recommend my services.

The High Priest gave me oils for my skin and told me that I was to be brought before Pamiu for his inspection. He reminded me I was to be obedient, or I would be whipped until I could no longer stand. He didn't need to tell me that, but he told me anyway. When another of the temple slaves arrived to escort me to the Prince, the High Priest left. The slave oiled me until his hands slipped on my skin, and then.. Then I was taken from the Temple."

Orlando stopped there, taking a deep breath. Harry offered his water, which Orlando gratefully took. He sipped, rolling the liquid over his tongue as he held the bottle up and shook it. "It's so clear."

Harry licked his upper lip, salty sweat a fine skin across his face. He became aware of rain falling against the window, spattering onto the floor through a broken pane. "Do you need more water? I can go and get some.."

Orlando shook his head, and curled his hand over Harry's large fist. "Not yet. Wait until the rain stops. Unless.. You don't have to stay if you don't want to, you know that? Right?"

Harry stared down at those slender fingers, the knuckles red from being scratched, and smiled. "Yes, I know that. I'll stay. But when the rain stops, will you let me go out and bring you some water? Some food?"

Orlando gave Harry's hand a gentle squeeze, and nodded. That confused sadness was back in his eyes. "Of course. You're free to do whatever you like."

"So are you," Harry told him.

"Maybe I am now. But as a slave to the King's new Vassal, I was free only to do his bidding. I had no idea what this Master would be like, only that he was nobility. I respected that, because I knew that if I did a single thing to displease him, I would be put to a painful death.

The Prince wasn't there when we arrived at his chamber. I was left alone to await his arrival. He had been writing, I noticed. I had no idea what, but it looked beautiful to me. He was a foreign Prince, they said, brought across the miles by the King's warriors. He had been taught our ways, our language, and had sworn fealty to our King. I, along with the few slaves spared from duties at the Temple, was his reward. And I'll confess this: I didn't mind one bit. If he only wanted me for one night, it was a night in rooms that were fit, as far as I was concerned, for Amon-Re himself."

"The God of Gods," Harry murmured. Orlando drew back his hand. When he spoke again, it was with a degree more reverence than before.

"I felt it before he even entered the room. Something was about to happen. Something that would change me forever. It was like.. my heart beat just that little bit faster. I could see everything more clearly. It was strange, but somehow I suddenly felt.. whole. Pamiu took my breath away. His skin was fair, fairer even than mine. His hair, too, was the colour of wheat. He was so beautiful I wanted to cry. But he didn't give me the chance for tears, because the first thing he did was kiss me. I'd never been kissed before, and straight away he put his lips on mine. I wasn't sure what to do, so I did nothing. It wasn't my place to make advances. At least, not yet." Orlando shifted, curling his legs behind him. He scratched his knuckles briefly before pushing both hands underneath him.

"He looked as surprised by the kiss as I felt. But it didn't stop him from doing it again. He kissed hard and fast and dry, like a sandstorm. I couldn't react, because no man had put his tongue in my mouth before. Especially not a Prince. I think I must have been shaking, because he asked me if I was cold. I told him no, that I thought I was on fire.

'Strange boy', he said to me. 'They told me you had experience.'

I told him I would be willing to share my experience with him for as long as he would have me. He laughed, and I fell in love. He didn't kiss me again that day. When he was not busy with his own duties, he would return to me and hold me in his arms and talk of the Gods and their stories. He told me about his homeland, and I asked if he missed it. He looked sad, just for a moment. A moment long enough. All he said was, 'This is my homeland now, Hebeny. And I would not leave it for all the world. I would not leave you.'

I couldn't breathe. I thought that maybe I really -was- on fire, because I could feel the heat of it consuming me. Killing me with loving hands and eyes the colour of a cloudy sky. I knew it was wrong, but I clung to him and kissed his throat and told him, 'No. You will not leave me, for I would die without you.' I believed those words. Believed that if he went away and never returned to me, my heart would simply stop. If he went away. I knew already it was 'when' and not 'if'.

Oh, he loved me. I was certain of it. And though it was less than what he was, I loved him for being a Prince, because it allowed him certain decadences that would otherwise have caused an uproar. It allowed him to howl in the night with no fear of interruption. And he would howl, just like an old tom cat, when I put my mouth on him. He would mewl, and he would purr when his desire was sated, and nobody would ever ask why.

One afternoon, we lay in the reeds beside the great River, exhausted from our lovemaking. I was watching a blood and bright blue Kingfisher as it darted down into the water. The flashes of colour were distracting, dizzying in the heat. I thought if I focused on it, I wouldn't be tempted to do indecent things to Pamiu out in the open air. He was restful, stretched out behind me, but his hand was restless. It wandered on my skin, and Pamiu hardly seemed to notice what he was doing to me. Eventually I asked him what was wrong.

'Do you ever feel like a prisoner here?' he asked.

I thought it was a strange question, I a I answered it nonetheless. 'I'm a slave, my Prince. Not a prisoner.'

'But you are prisoner to me,' he said. 'Bound to me, bound to serve me.'

I tried to understand why he would say such things. 'Yes, I am bound to you. But I'm bound more in heart now than I am in duty.'

'We'll see,' was all he said.

When I awoke the next morning, to the pre-dawn darkness as always, my Prince was gone. His eyes were dull, his chest still. His touch, when I lifted his hand to my heart, was cold. He had left me, and he had been right. I was a prisoner to him. To his heart. I told him I would die without him. Until the sun rose, I tried to will the night to take me. I tried to will myself to die, but my body wouldn't listen.

I was blamed for the death of the King's favourite Vassal. I suspect his heart failed him, but the Priests claimed that I had stolen his life, his spirit. They'd never agreed with our relationship, I think they only put up with it because it was what the King commanded. With Pamiu's death, they had the excuse they needed. My execution was ordered. The High Priest closed me into Pamiu's tomb, and I died with him. Bound to him."

"They just.. left you there?"

Orlando shrugged. "It's how it was done. It could have been a lot worse."

Harry shuddered. He couldn't think of much worse than being unable to escape from, God, a tomb of all places. With the one you loved dead and rotting, or mummified or whatever, just.. right there.

"Pamiu was right. I was his prisoner, in life and in death. In life again. But I was a willing prisoner."

"So.. when did you next meet?"

"When it was time. We were together, in one form or another, always. From the moment our souls became halves of a whole, we were together. It was like.." Orlando thought for a moment, searching for a reference Harry might understand. "Do you know 'The Ecstasie'? It's a poem."

Harry's mind drifted back to humid classrooms, bad-tempered literature teachers. "Vaguely," he said.

"That's what it was. Soul flowing into soul. Forsaking our bodies for the ultimate ecstasy. The ultimate completion, and.." Orlando trailed off, hiding suddenly behind a shy smile.

"Please. Tell me mo" Ha" Harry implored, leaning closer.

Orlando shook his head no. "You should eat. Go, get some food and water. If you come back, I'll tell you more. I'll tell you all that I can."

Harry nodded. Outside, the sky was starting to darken. He decided he would bring back some candles and a lighter, unsure if the lights would work here. Yes, he would return to hear more. There was no way he couldn't go back.

Ebony eyes watched him leave.

~continued in 'Actions'