Chapter Text
Anthony could still remember the first time he laid eyes on Steven, even years later. His father, King Howard, had gone off to war with the Philistines, Anthony at his side. Steven was already in Howard’s service by then, playing the harp for Howard when he got into one of his moods, but Anthony hadn’t had the occasion to meet him yet. As the crown prince, he wasn’t in the palace often, too busy conducting business around the kingdom in his father’s name.
Steven had been bidden leave from Howard’s service when the threat of attack came so that he might care for his father’s sheep while his brothers fought. As the youngest in the family, it was his duty, however much he might have wished to stay. Still, he made trips to the front lines to deliver food and other supplies from home to his brothers. It was on one of these trips that Anthony met him.
Anthony had just left a meeting of the war council. The Philistine forces were approaching from Socoh, in Judah, set to arrive in less than a week, and they were numerous. Even with Yahweh on their side, it would be a hard-won fight and many men would fall, Anthony was sure of it. The council had decided that the Valley of Elah, where they were camped, would be a fitting location for the forces to meet and had begun to draw up the battle lines in preparation. Howard and Anthony had argued, but there was nothing unusual about that. Anthony had watched as the months passed and his father became more and more agitated and volatile. Sometimes, it was as if a dark spirit resided within him, taking control and making him lash out at any and everyone who was unfortunate enough to be around him. Steven’s music was one of the only things that could calm him.
These worries circled in Anthony’s mind as he made his way through the camp, determined to find distraction. Perhaps there was work to be found in the armory; something he could do to ensure their men were as best equipped as possible. The men were responsible for their own armor and weapons, of course, but not all of them could afford quality pieces. If there were any that required servicing, or that Anthony might be able to fix easily enough, it was the least he could do for those willing t-He collided with something solid as he turned a corner, only saved from falling into the dirt by two hands grasping him around the biceps to steady him. He could feel the warmth of them even through the sleeves of his kethōneth and me’īl.
“I’m so sorry!” the man he’d run into apologized immediately. “I wasn’t watching were I was going.”
Anthony looked up, up, up into bright blue eyes set in a handsome face, blond hair held back by a braided band of light blue fabric. It was a bit uncommon to see the combination of blond hair and blue eyes, but not nearly so uncommon as the sheer beauty of the man before him. Anthony’s mouth went dry and he had to clear his throat as he waved off the apology of the handsome stranger.
“Neither was I,” he confessed. “Don’t worry yourself.”
The man smiled down at him for a long moment that stretched just a beat too long before seeming to realize that he was still holding onto Anthony’s arms and quickly releasing him. He coughed awkwardly as a red flush stole across his cheeks, visible even through his darker-blond beard. The distance between them gave Anthony a chance to look the man over. Unlike Anthony himself, he was dressed humbly in a rough-wool kethōneth shift that only fell to his knees, sleeveless to leave his muscular arms on display, and a similarly low-quality simlāh robe. A rough leather belt was wrapped around his waist. His sandals were of leather, too, and so caked in dirt that they nearly blended in with his skin. Odd. Their camp had been set for several days already. None of the troops should have been walking enough to amass so much dirt.
“If I might impose,” the man spoke again, drawing Anthony’s gaze back up to his face, “I am in sore need of direction. I just arrived from my father’s house with food for my brothers, but I haven’t been able to locate them among the ranks.”
For the first time, Anthony noted the pack that lay on the ground just behind the man, likely dropped when he’d reached out to keep Anthony from falling.
“Of course. It’s the least I can do, considering you kept me from getting dirt on my me’īl,” he agreed readily. It was a beautiful robe of woven silk that marked him for his high station, and he loved it dearly. He would have been devastated if it’d gotten ruined. “What is your family’s name? I’ll make sure you get to your brothers.”
Now it was the man’s turn to rake his eyes over Anthony, and he felt his body heat in response. The fine linen sleeves of his sādhīn were visible under an ankle-length kethōneth and his wooden sandals peaked out beneath them. The chestnut curls of his hair lay mostly hidden by a turban, only a few errant strands slipping free. His sword rested in a gilded sheath alongside his dagger on a leather belt that was of far finer make than the one the man wore. There was nothing about his appearance that looked anything but high-class. Still, the man gave no reaction to the obvious signs of his status and wealth.
“My brothers and I are the sons of Roger of Bethlehem,” he said, before boldly continuing. “I’m Steven.”
Anthony’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, not only at the disregard for proper etiquette involving introductions, but at the information that was revealed by him doing so.
“You’re Steven?” he blurted, incredulously. “The shepherd boy?”
Steven’s smile was crooked and Anthony caught a twinkle of mischief in his eye.
“Well, I’m not much of a boy… but yes. I tend my father’s sheep. Or, I did, and now I am again while this battle is on and my brothers have been called away. You’ve heard of me?”
Not a boy, indeed… Steven might be the youngest among his brothers, but Anthony suspected he was still only a few scant years younger than Anthony himself. The way his father had described his newest servant, Anthony had pictured some skinny little twig of a boy, lying in a field and daydreaming as he watched the clouds, not… this.
“You recently came into my father’s service playing your harp. I am King Howard’s son, Anthony.”
He wasn’t sure quite what he expected. Most people of Steven’s station were prone to throwing themselves into the dirt at Anthony’s feet when they found out who he was, but Steven had already shown little to no reaction to his obvious wealth. What he hadn’t expected was for Steven’s grin to become even wider as his eyes flitted over Anthony’s form once again.
“Your father is a great man,” he praised, “and he speaks of you fondly.”
It was kind of him to say, but Anthony doubted that was true. He and his father had been close, once, but they clashed more and more often as of late, particularly with Howard’s increasing moodiness.
“Well, we’d best get to tracking down your brothers,” he said, changing the subject rather than addressing what Steven had said. “Shall we?”
Steven bent to pick up his pack again and hoist it onto his shoulder, allowing Anthony a moment to appreciate the play of his muscles as he did so. Shepherd boy, indeed.
.
If Anthony had been surprised by Steven’s appearance, it was nothing compared to his surprise at what he discovered in conversation with the man on their way to find his brothers. Despite his low-standing in society and lack of education, Steven was incredibly well-spoken and dedicated to the Lord. He was a brave man who lamented that he was not able to join the other men in battle instead of rejoicing that he was allowed to stay home in relative comfort.
“What right do I have to do any less than them?” he asked Anthony without even a hint of irony in his voice. “Less than you?”
The smile that stole across Anthony’s face was soft.
“That’s why you bring food to your brothers” Anthony guessed.
“It gives me a way to contribute,” Steven agreed. “And it’s also a good way for me to keep abreast of the latest news. I like knowing what’s going on.”
Anthony nodded easily.
“I can understand that. The Philistines will be here tomorrow afternoon at the latest and then it’s only a matter of time before the fighting begins. Once it starts, there’s no telling which way things will go.”
“Except that we will win,” Steven said with a grin. “Yahweh is with the people of Israel and with King Howard. He will deliver our enemies into our hands.”
Anthony bit back the confession that he was not so sure Yahweh was still with his father. He didn’t know Steven that well, could not be assured that he wouldn’t run off and tell Howard of Anthony’s words or, worse, the people. Something about Steven’s openness and genuine nature as he spoke made Anthony feel comfortable with him, but that wasn’t enough to break through his entire upbringing of conscientious distrust. Still, he could see Steven becoming a trusted advisor if they had more time. No wonder Howard had become so immediately fond of him.
“Yes,” he said instead. “Yahweh is with us.”
He wished he could be so confident. The priests taught them that none should worry and to trust in the Lord, but that was far easier said than done. Anthony wanted to give his trust and concerns over, but it was a difficult thing for him to let go of. He was far more comfortable when he was able to be active and work toward a solution himself. Luckily, he didn’t have to scramble for any further conversation as he spotted the tent they’d been looking for up ahead. A large man in a black turban, rolled up so that none of the cloth hung down, even in the back, tended the fire out front.
“There.” Anthony pointed it out to Steven. “That is your family’s tent, I believe.”
He could tell the moment Steven’s gaze found it, because his entire face lit up with a grin so bright it left Anthony momentarily stunned. Steven picked up speed and raised one hand in an exuberant wave at the same time as he called out to the man at the fire, “Dum Dum!”
The man’s head snapped up, revealing a face burnished red by the sun behind a thick beard. He looked, Anthony reflected, very little like Steven for someone who was supposed to be his brother. He was probably from one of Roger’s other wives. Where Steven’s face and jaw were chiseled with his handsomeness, his brother’s had the same broadness as every other inch of his frame. His surprise quickly changed to a broad grin when he spotted the two of them coming forward.
“Steven,” he cried, stepping away from the fire and into a tight hug, pulling Steven in close and squeezing, “you made it!”
“I almost didn’t,” Steven confided with good humor. “Navigating the roads were easier than finding my way around this encampment! If it weren’t for Anthony, I might have ended up back in the desert.”
This, of course, drew Dum Dum’s attention to Anthony. Unlike Steven, his eyes went so wide upon spotting Anthony that he was afraid they might pop out. He sputtered out something unintelligible, probably an apology of some sort, already starting to sink onto his knees, but Anthony waved that nonsense off.
“There’s no need for that, I assure you,” he bade the man. He gave him a smile as Dum Dum, and he really did hope that was a nickname, cautiously rose. “I’m only here as a guide, so there’s no need to stand on ceremony.”
Dum Dum still didn’t look convinced, but he gave a tentative nod.
“Thank you, Anthony Hanassich, for ensuring our brother got to us safely. May Yahweh’s blessings be upon you.”
Anthony grimaced at the use of his official title but nodded in gracious acceptance anyway. It would be rude to do anything less.
“It was no trouble. Besides, I quite enjoyed finding the chance to finally meet the man whose harp has so captured my father’s admiration.”
Steven’s answering smile was bashful.
“Once the battle here is over and you have returned to the palace, you will have to come listen to me play.”
Something in Anthony’s chest warmed pleasantly.
“I will make certain to.”
Steven dipped his head in farewell and turned as if to enter the tent, only to turn back again.
“Will you be in the area in another hour or so? I should be finished up by then and I’d hate to get lost trying to find my way back out of here.”
Anthony’s lips tugged upward at the corners. It didn’t escape his notice that Steven’s brothers were surely quite capable of guiding him back out of the camp.
“I can be.”
By all that was holy, Steven’s smiles were something else.
“Then I hope you will.”
.
Steven’s journey back out of the camp took longer than it had any right to. Admittedly, though, that likely had something to do with Anthony insisting on feeding him before he got back on the road and it was only proper to host a guest in his own tent. They spoke of many things as they ate finely roasted meat with bread. Even once they had finished eating, they remained lounging across the many rugs and cushions that decorated Anthony’s tent.
Talking to Steven was easy, even effortless. He bore no hidden agenda nor abject ambitions so far as Anthony could tell. Well, except for being able to serve in the coming battle, of course. It was refreshing to speak with someone who had no regard for Anthony’s station and such a unique perspective on the issues faced by their people. A commoner saw things no royal would ever witness, simply by virtue that no one was putting on a show for their eyes.
Steven laughed with him as though they were friends, railed again injustices as though they were age-old comrades. He showed a familiarity with him that, slowly but surely, was working to crumble the walls Anthony had spent nearly his entire life building up. It would have been quite worrisome, in all honesty, except that Anthony felt quite sure Steven wasn’t the type for subterfuge or even subtlety. He was far too straightforward and blunt for that. It was so wildly different from most of those who Anthony was used to interacting with that he found himself, time and again, just smiling at Steven as he told tale after tale of his life.
“But enough about me,” Steven finally said. “I feel like I’ve done nothing but talk about myself and that’s terribly rude. Tell me about you.”
Anthony pursed his lips, considering. If he were talking to a foreign dignitary or a member of the court, he would know exactly what to say, but he was no as sure-footed talking to Steven.
“What do you want to know?”
“Whatever you would like me to. I haven’t met the queen before, what is she like? What do you do when you’re not in court? Have you gotten to travel much? I’ve always wanted to, but, well…” He gave a chagrined smile. “What’s your favorite place that you’ve visited?”
Yes. Definitely not the things a member of the court would have wanted to know. Except, perhaps, for the question about Anthony’s mother, but that would have been leading, looking for ways to gain her favor.
“Queen Maria is every bit the jewel she’s described to be,” he said with a fond smile. “She is elegant and upright and taught me everything I know about interacting with people in the court. And she is kind.” Or she had been. He did not speak of the careful distance she kept as Anthony grew older. “As for my time outside of my official duties, I greatly enjoy blacksmithing, though my father doesn’t approve. It’s messy work, but I’ll admit I’m entranced by almost any kind of metal work. I like having something to do with my hands.”
“Sababa,” Steven praised, sounding honestly impressed. “That sounds amazing. I bet you’re very good at it.”
“I manage,” he demurred modestly. “And I have gotten to travel quite extensively. I would have to say that Egypt is my favorite.”
“Egypt? Really?”
“Our shared history may be sordid, I’ll grant you, but they have some of the finest craftsmen of any nation. It was there that I acquired my robe.”
He held out one sleeve with a flourish.
“It is a very fine piece,” Steven admitted, “though I am no judge of such things.”
Anthony stroked his fingers over the silk fabric fondly.
“My mother had it commissioned for me, actually,” he confessed, though it was something he normally would not have. It’d been completely out of the blue and one of the only things he had to give him physical proof that she still loved him the way she once had when he was a child. “She saw me admiring some that we saw among the court there and so she found the weaver who had made them and commissioned this. Red is my… favorite color.”
Steven’s eyes softened, as if he understood what was not being said.
“A very fine piece, then.”
Several hours passed as they drifted on to other, less heartfelt topics, and yet it felt like it had been only minutes when Steven announced that he needed to be on his way.
“I don’t have any desire to be traveling these roads after dark. They are far too dangerous for a lone man with no weapon to defend himself.”
“You could always spend the night here,” Anthony offered, not truly expecting Steven to take him up on it. “I would be happy to host you in my tent and you could travel back home refreshed in the morning.”
The slow simmering attraction that had been burning between them only grew hotter with the desire clear in Steven’s eyes.
“If only I could,” he lamented, “but someone must mind the sheep.”
Anthony nodded in understanding as he stood.
“Very well, then at least take this with you.” He removed the dagger from his belt and held it out for Steven to take. “So you are not unarmed in case of bandits.”
Steven gaped at the blade.
“I couldn’t! It is much too fine for a shepherd like me. You have already been more than generous enough.”
Anthony pressed it into his hands anyway, shamelessly allowing his fingers to linger upon the other man’s flesh.
“I insist. You can return it to me on your next trip to see your brothers, provided you bring a weapon of your own to replace it as your protection.”
Finally, Steven’s hands gripped the blade and accepted it.
“Very well,” he said, never letting his gaze stray from Anthony’s. “You have my word that I will return with it soon, so as not to leave you inconvenienced by the loss. You will surely have need of it once the fighting starts.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
.
Only a few days later, Steven was back. Anthony probably shouldn’t have been surprised, but some part of him had seemingly decided that Steven’s appearance and their stimulating conversations had been… perhaps not made up, but certainly embellished by the rosy tint of fond memory. Surely, Steven’s eyes hadn’t been that stunningly blue. Surely, his words hadn’t been so honey-sweet that Anthony was left wanting to lick them right off his lips. Surely, the warmth between them had not burned so strongly.
And yet, here Steven was, looking every bit as handsome as Anthony remembered, smiling with what seemed to be genuine joy as he spotted Anthony down the row of tents and began jogging his way. As he drew to a halt just an arm’s reach away, Anthony couldn’t help but notice how his eyes sparkled in the sunlight.
“Anthony!” Steven greeted warmly and with what seemed to be utter sincerity. “I was hoping to find you again. I missed you.”
Anthony snorted indelicately.
“It’s only been two days.”
Steven’s smile didn’t diminish in the slightest and Anthony could feel his own stretching wider in response.
“And yet I couldn’t rest easy until I made sure to get this back to you.”
He rummaged through his pack for a moment before producing Anthony’s dagger. It gleamed with what was obviously a recent polishing and Anthony found himself oddly touched by the gesture.
“I hope you brought a weapon of your own with you, then, if you’re planning on returning mine,” he teased lightly.
Steven pulled aside a bit of his simlāh robe to show Anthony the leather pouch attached to his belt.
“Of course!”
“Is that,” Anthony hesitated a moment to wrestle with his rising horror, “a sling? That is not a weapon, Steven. That’s a toy.”
Steven seemed unfazed by Anthony’s completely legitimate defaming of his chosen defense system, just chuckling in amusement.
“It’s served me well enough so far.”
Anthony just gave him an unimpressed look.
“Fight off a lot of bandits, then, do you?”
“Not really,” Steven demurred modestly, “but there are plenty of lions and bears that come after the sheep.”
Anthony’s jaw dropped.
“Excuse me, what?”
“Lions and bears. The sheep make easy prey, so I have to run predators off if they start getting too interested. A few smacks across the nose with a small rock is usually enough to deter them, but sometimes they can be rather stubborn and keep coming anyway.”
“And that’s when you run, right?”
Steven just looked confused.
“No? Then there’d be no one to get between them and the sheep. It’d be a bloodbath and they’d just keep coming back whenever they felt like it. Normally, that’s when I have to wrestle them a bit.”
“You wrestle. The bears,” Anthony said slowly, carefully enunciating each word as if it might somehow help them make sense.
“Well, I can’t very well just let them eat the sheep, can I?”
“No, of course not. Prioritizing your own life over those of stock animals would be completely ridiculous.”
Steven chuckled and held out the knife once more.
“The point is, I can handle myself, though I appreciate your concern. You can have this back, now.”
Anthony willed himself to reach out and take it, to, for once, not let his weird, stupid quirk get in the way of things. He just… couldn’t quite manage it.
“I don’t like being handed things,” he said, a little too sharply in his anxiety. Then, in an attempt to soften the words, “but there is a perfectly serviceable trunk back in my tent you could set it down on, if you’d like. Unless you need to get to your brothers quickly, that is.”
This was it, Anthony knew it. This was the moment he went and made things awkward, the moment when Steven’s smile would dim, and his eyes would shutter as he realized that this was all a horrible mistake. Anthony was brilliant and charismatic, yes, but only when he kept people at arm’s length and didn’t let them get too close. He’d even given Steven the perfect excuse to make an escape. It’d be a simple thing for the man to avoid running into him again unless they were thrown into the same event back at the palace and then it would only be a matter of pretending none of this had ever happened.
“I actually already went by,” Steven admitted, causing Anthony to have to scramble for a moment to get his head back into the conversation as opposed to lost in his fears. “I didn’t want to have to cut our conversation any shorter than absolutely necessary.”
Well, that didn’t sound like Steven was planning to cut his losses and make a run for it, at least.
“So, you have time to join me for another meal, then?” Anthony asked hopefully.
“I’d like that.”
.
After Steven left once again, Anthony found himself torn between his attraction to Steven and what he knew to be the reality of the situation. He hardly knew Steven, and this was hardly the time or place for even a carnal dalliance, even if their stations in life didn’t put miles between them. Not that there was anything set in stone just yet. There was only the possibility there, the ‘what if’ of a future not yet determined. Anthony knew his heart, knew how it yearned for intimacy and jumped at the smallest show of kindness and companionship from another.
But that was not his lot in life. Anthony had a role to play in his nation, for his people and his father’s house. He was all too aware that there were those who would take his attraction or even friendship as a chance to advance their own station. It’d happened before and, while he did not have the fear that Steven was among that number, he had grown far too wary to take a chance at revealing himself and his desires, whether physical or emotional. It didn’t matter the handsomeness of Steven’s physique, nor his wit and kindness that made Anthony yearn for something more.
This was not something Anthony could have. This was not something Anthony could even be allowed to want.
And yet, he couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the easy conversations that had flowed between them. Sure, Anthony had originally been attracted to Steven’s body, but his mind and personality had only drawn him in further. Anthony liked Steven. As much as he thought he’d enjoy a simple roll in the hay, he couldn’t help but imagine the possibility of a deeper connection between them and had to quickly school himself away from such thoughts. At this point, he’d rather keep Steven around as a friend than as a one-time lover who disappeared as soon as they were both satiated.
Not that the looks he and Steven had shared seemed to indicate Steven wanted to simply remain friends. Anthony just struggled to take the plunge when he knew the loss that would come later. Oh, he was happy to flirt – that came as naturally to him as breathing – but he wasn’t ready to make any actual moves in the direction of carrying it through. War was hardly a fitting place, anyway. Even if he and Steven did pursue something, which he did his best to keep from considering, it would have to be after all of this with the Philistines was resolved. For now, the enemy threat definitely took priority. He could worry about himself and his fears of eternal loneliness later.
The Philistines had arrived just an hour past Steven’s departure and set up camp on a hill on the opposite end of the Valley of Elah. Anthony stood at the edge of the Israelite camp with his father and stared off into the distance at where they could just barely make out the movement of the opposing army settling in.
“They’re numbers are great, just as our scouts indicated,” he said, hoping to keep the statement neutral enough to avoid his father’s unpredictable temper.
Still, a scowl spread over Howard’s face.
“We have conquered great opposition before. Our people will find victory.”
Anthony bowed his head in supplication.
“Of course. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. Shall we adjourn to the war tent? I’m sure the rest of the council has gathered by now. Perhaps the prophets will have had some word from Yahweh to guide us.”
He turned in that direction as if to urge his father’s compliance, but Howard didn’t move, eyes fixed in the distance still. His brow furrowed and eyes narrowed in an attempt to see more clearly.
“Someone has left their camp.”
Anthony whirled back around, alarmed.
“They’re attacking?” he exclaimed. “So soon?”
“No. It looks like just a single individual. My horse!” Howard called to his attendant. “Bring me my horse!”
Anthony signaled for the man to bring his as well and they, accompanied by a moderate guard, were soon riding out to confront the solitary figure making its way across the valley toward their camp. As they approached, the figure grew larger and larger. They reigned in their horses just five meters away and the man, for it was a man, also stopped. Standing in the grass in nothing taller than a pair of leather sandals, his head still drew level with Anthony’s own.
This was no man. This was a giant.
He was adorned in all bronze, from his helmet to his greaves. Glistening scale armor covered him like a coat. It had to be staggeringly heavy, and yet he carried it with ease. A javelin was slung casually across his back, its shaft as wide as a weaver’s rod, and a sword hung at his side. Whoever his man was, there was no doubt he was impossibly strong.
“Hail!” Howard called out to him. “Announce yourself and your business for approaching our camp. Do you carry a message from the Philistines?”
The man laughed.
“Why do you come out and line up for battle? I am Thanos of Gath, and I am a Philistine, indeed. However, I abhor unnecessary death and have proposed an alternate solution to my king, rather than an all-out battle where the blood of both sides will surely be spilled across the very ground where we now stand.”
The Philistines wanted to negotiate now? After all that had brought them here? Anthony could scarcely believe it. Perhaps, though, they had not expected that Howard would really be willing to head to war. Or perhaps they had underestimated the force of Israel. He glanced at his father to gauge his reaction, but Howard remained stoic.
“And what is it that you propose, Thanos of Gath?”
“Though I have a distaste for needless death, I have an unquenchable thirst for battle. I have fought with many opponents from all across the lands, and yet none has been able to come close to felling me. Choose a man from among your ranks and have him come down to me. If he is able to fight and kill me, we will become your subjects, O’ King; but if I overcome him and kill him, you will become our subjects and serve us.”
“You lay the fate of your entire nation upon your shoulders? And your king agreed to this?”
“My king knows my skill and ability. This day I defy the ranks of Israel,” the man crowed. “Give me a man and let us fight each other!”
He seemed entirely undaunted by the way Howard scowled at him.
“I will consider your words,” Howard said. “I trust our camps may maintain peace as I do so?”
Thanos swept into a bow that managed to look more mocking than respectful.
“I would allow no one to rob me of the joy of a good fight.”
With a nod of acceptance, Howard turned his horse and began the ride back to their camp. Anthony quickly followed, trusting their guards to watch their backs.
“Surely you cannot be truly considering this,” he said as he drew up beside his father. “The size of him! There are none among our ranks who could stand against him alone. A single blow from his fist would surely split a man’s skull wide open!”
“Enough,” Howard commanded tersely. “I have made no decision yet. If there is a great battle, many of our people will die. He is right about that much. If one of our own could face him, then it could save many lives.”
“And who would face him?” Anthony challenged. “Who could possibly stand a chance?”
His father had no answer.
.
The next morning, Howard announced to the camp that he was offering a great reward to any man who could defeat Thanos, and that he would offer the hand of one of his daughters in marriage on top of that.