The Fine Art of Masculine Beauty

A/N: I read most of The Princess Bride the day I wrote this, and somehow my writing style for this was highly influenced by Morgenstern's elaborate narrative that lingered lovingly over every description. Over a chapter was devoted to the packing of clothing by noble ladies.

There is mild Otogi bashing, but not in a mean sense, it's kinda funny and affectionate, you'll get what I mean as you read it. Otogi fans don't take it seriously, it's all in good fun, not like serious Anzu/Tea bashing which is usually meant to be mean (and so far as the dub is concerned, mostly well deserved.)

Finally, I own nothing, and I can't guarentee all historical accuracy. This is not meant to be a History lesson anyways, you take it seriousl and fail your History exams, it isn't my fault....when I fail my own however, well, i can always say TV was a bad influence. (But Mr. Renfrew, I swer there *were* monsters in Ancient Egypt....and apparently lots of hairgel too, although I think they reserved that for the Pharoah's personal use.)

***

Otogi sighed as he ran a languished hand through his raven mass of curls and looked longingly into his bronze mirror. Said mirror was polished to a burnished shine and the tanned tint gave him an exotic look. Well, not that he needed it, he was the most beautiful man in all of Greece, which was quite an accomplishment. Not many places would appreciate the fine art of true masculine beauty as opposed to plain handsomeness. Being handsome was easy, even the poor could manage it what with the natural tanning and developement one got from slaving outdoors. Being beautiful required great time and practice.

Otogi had worked for months on his mouth, perfecting the most adorable moody pout this side of Athens. He spent loving years, and many hours a day, devoted to the awesome gorgeousness of his long black hair, which now fully reached his waist and continued to grow in well tended splendor. He studied various creatures for weeks, most notably felines, to create the graceful saunter that stole the very breath from the shopkeepers as he strolled, oh so casually, about town. In honesty, there was nothing casual about his periodic walks, they were carefully planned and staged, every movement perfectly correographed days ahead of time. Every sigh, every bored look, every twitch planned and executed with precise timing for maximum effect. Not that he didn't improvise at times, Greeks were the true inventors of the dramatic pursuits afterall, and he was ever the genius in such things.

In the evenings he would retire to his palace and bask in his throne and look long into the mirror that sat in burnished admiration of it's owner. Otogi didn't need the Oracle of Delphi to know with certainty that he was indeed the most beautiful creature in all of Greece.

Almost.

The last word stung and bit at him, worming it's way steadily into his mind and gnawing away happily on his confidence, giving room for doubt to grow. With an angry mutter the young raven haired Greek stood and walked through the marble columns of his throne room. He was only a minor Prince, hardly more than a noble, but apperance really and truly did matter. Besides, most Roman nobles built themselves palaces to stand out from their neighbours, to proclaim their greatness to the world. Sure, this was Greece, but since he was above and beyond the cutest of all, why couldn't he have a palace too?

Almost the cutest. Not quite.

Otogi stormed outside his compound, barely stopping to grab his sandals at the door. He terribly enjoyed walking around on marble floors without his shoes on, such a deliciously cold smooth feeling. He hopped in outrage onto his white horse, of which he had a whole stable, and rode towards the center of town. (It should be noted in passing that his horses were also of unmatched beauty, in the terms of horses, and were specifically selected to be as white as possible, thus enabling their darkhaired master to stand out in remarkable brilliance. It can also be said that the white marble that made his estate served the selfsame purpose. Apperances after all.)

With wonderously gorgeous anger he pounded his fist on the rough door of the slavemaster and demanded entrance in his most authoritative, and well practiced, voice. A pretty frown was on his rosebud mouth and the most darling scowllines settled nicely between his perfectly plucked eyebrows.

"I want that servant." was all he said, all he deigned say to the chubby and unwholesomely ugly man before him. Truly, such ugliness was almost unbearable for him to be in the presence of and Otogi did his best to breath shallowly. The man turned and went deep inside the house, disappearing for several minutes, and when he returned he was no longer alone.

Otogi fumed. He spent several mintues bristling. He next turned to seething. He touched lightly upon fury before skipping into indignation. He lingered over irritation, vexation and exaspertaion before he finally slipped into towering outrage.

How Dare A Stupid Unlearned Ignortant Servent Be Cuter Than He!!!

With his cheeks still flaming in anger he paid a hefty sum for the boy and turned his back resolutly, commanding his new slave to fw. Tw. The boy did. Otogi hopped with lean grace atop his horse and took off at tremedous speed, his mount charging through the streets. The boy ran and followed. Most impressively, he kept up.

Finally, oh so very finally in Otogi's mind, he had the boy in his home. Now finally (oh so finally) something could be done. Something fairly perminent. Nobles are always on the lookout for men of certain talents, artists in their field, experts when it came to the singularily unpleasant job of causing pain. Of course Otogi had a number of such men in his employ. To which one to turn was the most crucial question.

Acid was somewhat harder to procure and since it had certainly nasty side effects, and a single spill could be deadly, Otogi decided against it.

To scar the boy with a sword or dagger could prove to be sufficent enough to ruin the perfection of his face, but there was a certain pedestrianism to such methods, and Otogi would never allow himself to behave so commonly.

Starvation might work and had the benefits of being cost free. However, how much work could you get out of a sick slave?

It came to him quite suddenly as he peered into the brazen loveliness of his reflection, the most perfectly wrteched, painful and permanent punishment he could bestow upon the boy who dared to be his better. Otogi crossed out the last though. The boy who pretended to be his better, but of course was no and never could be since he was only a simple servant and not a glourious Prince as Otogi himself was.

What was that remarkably wonderful answer to the problem?

Fire of course.

Otogi found the idea of melting away the perfection from his servants face to be an overwhelmingly satisfying idea. He plucked a grape from his tray of fruit, which stood every ready at his side, and smiled darkly in anticipation. One finger reached out to caress an errant lock of raven hair and his emerald eyes sought out the face of his victim.

Soft golden hair fell in disarray across his forhead. Deep honey eyes stared out in defiance from a face of smooth peachy skin. His shoulders were broad and well muscled, stripped to the waist it was easy to see his whole body mirrored the perfection of his face, both tender and naive yet far too knowing for one so young. Eyes that belonged on a much older, and likely uglier, man watched Otogi with eerie silence.

"Why do you look at me like that?" Otogi snapped peevishly, momentarily forgetting how too much anger in a day led to premature wrinkles.

The boy shrugged his perfect tanned shoulders and stood relaxed, a diginty not worthy of a servant boy radianted outwards from him. Otogi bit down on the unoffending lock of hair he held in frustration.

"So?" he tapped his manicured hand on the arm on his throne. "Well, at least then tell me your name."

The boy did nothing.

Otogi stood dramatically, the trail of his mantle furling out behind him. "I demand an answer!"

Slowly the boy turned his face from his master, his dark eyes glittering and far away. He set his body proudly before he tilted his chin upwards and Otogi was aghast to see the one imperfection that marred the blonde boy's body. Tight against his throat where it lay hidden in the shadows of his jaw an ugly red scar crossed angrily along his flesh breaking the perfection of his rosy skin.

Otogi sat heavily, once a tho thoughts of vanity fled his mind and it hurt him to the quick to see how someone might destroy such beauty in such a devastating way. To rob the boy of his voice, his only communication....it was horrible. In shame Otogi hung his head from the jealous destruction his own heart had been so intent to cause.

The boy's eyes cut back sharply to the figure on the throne and blazed with defiance. He brough his hand up quickly and made a series of rapid gestures. Otogi noticed that despite being a slave his hands were slender and soft looking, and they possessed as much grace on their own as his entire body.

He had heard of such languages of course, he had studied several other spoken languages, but had no clue what the other youth was trying to convey to him. He put a hand tired on his forhead and waved the boy off.

"It's not important right now." Green eyes looked into honey "Can you write?" he asked hopefully.

The blonde head nodded somewhat slowly, unsure. Immediately a quill and ink were brought with sheets of papyrus for the activity, which ultimately was short lived. The boy could write. Only two words however.

"Jounouchi Katsuya....I have no clue what that means....could you at least give me a hint what language?"

The blonde rolled his eyes andped ped his foot impatiently. After several more blank moments he finally pointed to himself and gave a mocking bow to his new master.

Otogi blinked and blushed, knowing himself to be quite cute whilst blushing. "Sorry....I guess I pulled a blank for a moment, " he apologized. "Uh...It's nice to meet you Katsuya."

The boy shook his head sharply.

"Fine whatever," Otogi took his turn and rolled his eyes, which always made him look fetching. "Jounouchi it is then."

blonblonde relaxed slightly and bowed in honesty, Otogi found his heart beating with uncomfortable pace in his chest."I'll have someone show you to your quarters." he said quietly, his eyes never leaving the perfect person bowing before him. It was more than a little flattering, and somehow flustering. It was common practice in Greece for nobles to take on little side adventures amongst their slaveboys, but it had never occured to Otogi that there might be any point. Until now. Such perfection, if he could not have it for himself, then he would possess the one who did.

The blonde looked up hesitantly, his body tense under the careful gaze of his emerald eyed master. He saw within those orbs of such green beauty something he had never once seen before in all the masters who had ever owned him. A mind and perhaps the faint glimmerings of a soul.

Jounouchi's sudden smile was like the sun rising and it stole Otogi's breath away.

****


A/N: Well, if anybody actually like this I'll write more, if not, well, I had a lot of fun writing it, so I don't care. This was my only story that I was smiling and laughing about while writing, 'cause I was having a good time. I think having read Proncess Bride right before certainly helped, it was a lot of laughs.
See ya!