So, I'm back. With a new story. A Yu-Gi-Oh! story. Yeah. Anyways, I couldn't find the motivation to actually rewrite the story involving my OC that was based off of yugiyamifangirl's story, Mistaken Identity. However, I still wanted to take my own shot at a similar kind of story, so I removed my OC and will just use the Yu-Gi-Oh! cast this time around. This is the prologue, and I hope you enjoy it!
Inspirations: Mistaken Identity by yugiyamifangirl, Anastasia (Animated Movie) produced by Don Bluth, Gary Goldman, and Roz Phillips, and How did it come to this? by Nithul.
Disclaimer: I think we all know that there is no way I'm the one who owns Yu-Gi-Oh! in any form unless it's merchandise I bought.
Note: The KEY will only establish things that are new, but there will not be any repeats on the key as I don't want to make my A/Ns too long. Also, I will forewarn what SHIPPING is being established in each chapter if there is any shipping to be established. Same rule as the KEY - it will only establish a shipping and then that shipping is to be expected for the remainder of the fic. I will only establish things as they appear and this should be the only note you ever see from me. Key word: SHOULD. Also, the Disclaimer and Inspirations will never appear again after this.
KEY
"Egyptian."
"Japanese."
"Nihon." - A Japanese word being spoke, without that word being translated to English. Such words will usually be defined at the end of the chapter.
"Kemet." - Egyptian variation of what was explained a line ago.
Thoughts.
Prologue: Into Slavery
Chaos. That was all that the boy knew as he lay still, terrified, beneath the body of the woman who had been his mother. Her brown hair was darkened from laying in her own blood, which pooled around the boy and soaked his clothes. His eyes were kept tightly shut, but he could still hear the chaos that had overtaken his home. He did everything his could to keep quite and still, as his mother had begged him to do if she should be killed while they tried to flee. Make their attackers think he was dead too, so he could escape once they were gone. He was then supposed to go to his best friend's home and stay there, where he would be safe. It was hard, though, to stay still and not wail or scream. He was struggling to keep the tears back, his lips trembling with the effort. The sound of fire cackling, and the sound of screams that was slowly starting to die down after… gods knows how long. The boy felt he should pray, but which god he should pray to evaded him and so he did not pray.
Finally, there was silence all around the boy, but he still didn't move. As the silence stretched on, he finally allowed himself to start sobbing quietly. He moved to cling to his mother's body, unwilling to leave her despite her instructions on what he was supposed to do. He was alone, scared, and mourning for his mother, who had been ripped from him far too soon. He was only five, after all, too young to lose a parent. The boy hadn't dared to open his eyes, unwilling to look upon what he knew would be more bodies of those he knew and was close to. He was afraid to see the servants, the slaves, and the guards that were dead and he knew would not get up, the ones who had once played with the boy and his brother and cousins. The boy simply continued to weep silently as he clung to the corpse of his beautiful mother, begging her with a quiet voice to get up and prove that she had just been pretending as well. In his grief, the boy did not realize danger still lurked.
"I'm tellin' you that at least one of the brats is still here! And I know that I didn't see his corpse," a woman's voice snapped.
The danger that was in the room with the boy had not yet noticed him either, said danger being two women and four men. The woman who had spoken was pacing back and forth, ignoring the carnage around her while the second woman looked like she would be sick. Three of the men were prowling the room, over turning any furniture and looking through doors in an effort to find the brat mentioned by the first woman. The fourth man looked irate as he dealt with the woman and was very clearly a foreigner, as he had specific characteristics that the other five did not share. The two women and three searching men were all very pale, although to different degrees. The man, however, had tanned skin that marked him as from the southern countries somewhere.
"And I'm telling you that there ain't no brat here!" spat the man. "You promised me a brat, and you failed to come through. It's either dead or it got away! Either way, my clients won't be happy."
"It's not my fault that you couldn't catch one of them," the woman cried at the foreigner. "Do not forget who got you into the palace, who got you far enough to do what you wanted! I kept my end of the deal! I didn't promise a brat, I just promised an opportunity to get one in exchange for killing that bitch!"
As the woman and the foreigner quarreled, the second woman made her way over to where the mother's corpse lay, looking at it sorrowfully as she did so. She hadn't wanted any of this to happen, but how could she stop it? She was just glad that most of the innocents got away without being killed when all the other woman wanted was the mother's death. That was when the second woman realized that the child which they were looking for was right there. She felt her heart twist as she finally heard the boy's sobbing and pleading with his mother, whom the woman knew was very much dead. She sighed softly and reached down, picking the boy up. The boy did not fight her, to grief-stricken to do so.
"Look here, both of you," the woman called to the two who were bickering. "The child is right here. He was under his mother's body, hiding. Come now, there is no need to be cross with each other."
The first woman and the foreigner looked to the second woman, realizing that the boy was, indeed, right there. The foreigner walked over and took the boy from her, pleased when the child didn't struggle or scream. That would get annoy very quickly, and he didn't want to have a headache.
"Wonderful," the man said. "My clients will be very pleased with this."
The little boy was terrified as he stood on a wooden platform as a man wearing only a headdress and a skirt of some kind called out something in a language the boy didn't understand. The land the boy was now in was so foreign, with only hot sand as far as he could see. There were crops and plants around the village as well, but not as much as back at his home. His wrists were bound together, and the heat was nearly unbearable as he stood, bare-footed, on the platform. He no longer wore his old clothes, having been garbed in a tan tunic that was rough spun, with a single rope around his waist.
He wasn't sure for how long he was forced to stand there with so many people watching him, a few calling out things back to the man he stood next to. The boy didn't really understand what was happening, but it finally ended with a mean-looking man coming forward. The boy cowered back, whimpering softly as the rope attached to his bound hands was given to the man. The man was tall and broad-shouldered, with dark eyes and dark hair. Like everyone in this strange place, his skin was much darker than the boy's. He yelped a bit as he was pulled forwards roughly, forced to follow the man.
The sand scorched the boy's feet as he hurried after the man, whimpering the whole way as they went. Finally, they walked into a building that was large and made the boy realize the man must be a Noble, as only Lords and Ladies could have such big homes. The boy was taken to a room with little furnishings beyond the many beds that were there, filled with many others filled with who wore garments similar to what the boy was being made to wear. This made the boy realize that he must be a slave now, which only made him whimper again. He found that he was whimpering a lot. Finally, the bindings were removed from the child's wrists and the man grabbed the boy by his shoulder. Rather than being roughly thrown, the boy found himself being gently pushed towards a woman who had another young child with her. The man said something gruffly before leaving, and the boy stood there, lost and confused.
The woman had brown hair, reminding the boy of his mother, as well as kind eyes. Her skin was lighter than the skin of the others in the room, but not by a whole lot. Just enough that the boy could see it, though. The kind-eyed woman knelt before him and began to speak, but the boy couldn't understand her.
"I-I'm s-sorry," the boy stuttered in a whisper. "I-I don't – don't under-."
The woman shook her head and gently put her finger to his lips, cutting the little boy off. The woman then pointed to herself before speaking again, this time going slow as she did so.
"Rasui," the woman said, repeating that one word a few times. "Rasui."
It took the boy a few minutes, but he finally realized that she was telling him her name. He then clumsily attempted to repeat the name, struggling with it. Once the woman was satisfied with his pronunciation with her name, she nodded and brought the other child forward. He was taller than the boy was, with brown hair and blue eyes and skin that was darker than the woman's skin. The woman said something to the boy, who rolled then rolled his eyes. However, the boy then pointed to himself and spoke.
"Set," the boy said, talking slowly as the woman had done.
The little boy repeated Set's name, like he had done with Rasui's name. The little boy was going to do what they did, but Rasui stopped him from doing so. She had a sad look when she did this and the boy figured she had an explanation but couldn't tell him thanks to the language barrier. She then pointed at him and said a new word.
"Moswen."
She had to repeat it slowly more times than her own name, or than Set had said his before the child understood that he had been given a new name. He frowned at this but nodded and repeated his new name. He didn't want a new name but knew that he had no choice in the matter.
Moswen was his name now, and he would do his best to remember that. The woman took him to a bed and when she spoke, he guessed that he was being told to sleep for now. He didn't like any of this at all, and vowed to never forget his real name, no matter what. My name is Yugi, the little boy thought. Not Moswen.
As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, Yugi found himself slowly growing used to being called Moswen and had come to learn that it meant Light Skin. He guessed that made sense, as his skin may as well have been the color of snow as far as the natives of this strange land were concerned. Rasui had slowly begun to develop into a mother figure for the young boy, who followed her around and learned from her what he was supposed to do. He was learning the language as well and could now at least be respectful to his new Master and any other Nobles. Set was nice to him and would even play with him despite being two years older than he was.
As time moved on, Yugi discovered with horror that he was slowly starting to forget about his old life. His mother, his father who must be worried sick, his brother, his cousins. He couldn't even remember his best friend's name anymore, or what he even looked like. This scared the boy so badly when he realized it that he had begun to cry. Rasui had seemed to understand and had comforted him the whole night, going as far as to sing to him to help him calm down.
Yugi was afraid that he would forget his own name with time if this continued on, so he one day begged Set to always call him by his real name. He had learned enough of the language by then to be able to do so, and Set had agreed. The older boy was always looking out for Yugi, whom was grateful for it. Set reminded him of his older cousin, who also always looked out for him.
"Yugi, what is the land you come from called?" Set asked one day, about a year and a half after Yugi had met the boy. "You never told me it."
"Oh, well," Yugi blinked up at Set, pausing in his washing of the floor to think for a moment. "Nihon. At least, that's what it is in my words. I don't know what it would be in your words."
"N... Ni...Nihon," Set attempted to repeat, though he struggled. "That's a hard word to say."
"Now you know how I felt as I tried to learn your words!" Yugi giggled.
Set had to agree with Yugi, knowing that that was probably a very true statement. The two boys got back to work but continued to chat with one another as they did so. Set was happy that he had another boy around his age to play with - it had been very lonely and hard without the other boy and Set wasn't sure how he'd managed. He loved his mother, of course, but things were just easier with a friend to laugh with.
"Set, where am I? I don't know this place's name," Yugi said softly, having been meaning to ask for a while.
"Kemet," Set replied. "You're in Kemet."
"Egypt," Yugi repeated the word, which sounded familiar to him. Wasn't Father talking about a place called Kemet? Yugi wondered to himself. He couldn't quite remember, which frustrated him.
"Yugi," Set suddenly said, sitting up a bit. "I made you something. Remember how I asked you to show me how to write your name in your writing?"
"Yeah," Yugi said, blinking at the older boy in confusion. "Why?"
"I did that for a reason," Set explained, pulling something from his tunic. "It's called a shenu, and we put our names on them. A wooden one isn't the best, but it was all that I could get. I wrote your name in your writing on it, so that you could always remember your name and the land you come from. I also wrote your real name in Hieroglyphics, since I figured you would want to know how to spell your name in my writing. This way, you'll always know your real name, even if we're separated by our Master."
Yugi knew that that was a very real threat, though he had rarely ever thought of it. He was glad that Set had thought of this and was very touched by it.
"Thank you, Set," he said as he accepted the pendant, which he immediately put on. He hid the cartouche beneath his tunic, wanting to keep it between him and Set.
"Anything for my little brother," Set grinned, as he really had come to view Yugi as his little brother. "Come on, we best get back to work before Master comes to find we've done very little."
Yugi nodded, smiling as he returned to his work. Maybe... Maybe this life wouldn't be so bad, after all. Even if Set was the only one who was willing to use his real name and not let him forget that he once had a life before this.
Nihon - What the Japanese call Japan.
Kemet - What the Ancient Egyptians called Egypt.
Shenu - Egyptian word for cartouche.
Well, that's the prologue. Probably one of the longest I've ever written, but it felt right to write it like this. I hope that you liked it, since I'm hoping to work on this for at least a little while. I want to note here that Ryou, Malik, and Joey will NOT be Yugi's cousins, as tempting as it is to make them such. Truthfully, I may not include Joey (I will not be including Tristan) at all. Not entirely sure yet about Joey, but I'll try to decide soon. Anyways, have a good night/day!