Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh isn't mine. If it was, I'd be as rich as Seto Kaiba himself. (Well, probably not, but you get the idea…)
Author's Note: This is a one-shot about Set and Akunadin, and how the old priest feels about not being able to be a true father to his son. It plays upon events that happen in my other fic, The Reeds, The Lotus and The High Priest and is dedicated to all those of you who have read and liked that fic. But it also stands as a standalone. There needs to be more Akunadin fics. Meh…
Summary: Akunadin is capable of reading minds. But he cannot read matters of the heart, especially his own. Having to keep Set in the dark that he's the boy's father has taken its toll. How does he feel?
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Raising Set
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"Yes, but it's not like you're my father."
"No, I'm not…"
'And it pains me... I only have your best interests at heart…' Akunadin mused quietly, a sad, tired look on his face. This pretence was torturous… Set did not even see the way he was looking at him as he swiftly strode down the corridor, or the wistful sigh that followed.
"... Son"
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Hurtful…
Even after the decision he had made to be forgotten by his son, those words his 'student' had spat at him had hurt. Such pretence was hard to maintain, even after these twelve years that had passed ever since that fateful day. The young man who was striding away from him had no idea as to the irony of what he had said, or the truth of their relationship.
The image of his son when younger came to mind as he turned on his heel and walked in the opposite direction. It was hard, but he had to cope for the both of them. Set would be better off not knowing the truth, that he was the son of a murderer. If he did, he would once more think of him as a monster, just like he had done when his son's younger self had seen him with the Sennen Eye.
But no. I only did what was necessary for our country to survive. I was willing to pay the price.
Now, he was nothing more than a mentor to his son, teaching one who had no idea of the fact how he truly felt. He had taught his son everything he knew: alchemy, astronomy, medicine and more besides. He had watched with pride when his son had become part of the priesthood. If only he knew how proud he felt…
Set was coming to that age when every boy needed his father's advice, but he could only be there in a certain capacity. He was seen as a father figure and mentor, perhaps a friend, but nothing more than that. He opened the door to his quarters, weighted down by the fact he had willingly excluded himself from these important areas of his son's life. There was only so much a mentor could do, only so much until Set felt offended.
And then he lost his mother. My wife…The young twelve-year-old had been inconsolable after being told that his mother had perished. He had told Set himself; it was the least he could do. He had… it was better when he did not think about it. She had been one he held most dear, until he had been forced to let her go. It was better that she did not greet the arrival of a man steeped in blood, and that she should look after their son. She had claimed to understand him, but he had sensed her fear.
He crossed the room and seated himself in a chair next to a table, his white hair falling about his face. His hands linked together in his lap as he sighed. Now, his son had seemingly developed an interest in that young woman he had seen him accompanying, and he could not share that joy with him as a father. He could only offer advice and his best wishes.
It's something I have to celebrate in private. Bah! he thought angrily, grabbing the small jar of wine from the table to his side. Such sentimentality is unbecoming of me. I made my bed, and I shall lie in it.
His head fell, his eyes gazing blankly at the floor. Perhaps it was time he started thinking more like a mentor and less like a father. Only one other person was left who knew the truth, and they had the decency to keep it to themselves.
Speak of the devil…He looked up at Shimon, his old acquaintance looking down at him from by the open door. His lips curved up in an evil smile that he had seen his son wear often enough. Set had used it to scare the other students.
"Is there something I can do for you?" he asked coldly. "Come in if you want. But be warned; I'm not in the mood for company."
Glancing up at the approaching priest, he grumbled to himself and took a swig from the jar before putting it back on the table. It helped sometimes; having another person he could talk to about Set. Shimon knew how proud he was of his son.
"There's only one person who can make you feel like this. What has he done now?" Shimon asked him, pulling up a nearby chair.
He barked in amusement.
"Nothing. That's the point. Only, he effectively told me to keep my nose out of his personal affairs. He said I wasn't his father."
Shimon looked sympathetic.
"Set isn't like that. Not towards you. He may not know you're his father, but he respects you like you're his father," he was told, raising an eyebrow. "What made him feel so affronted that he would take it out on you?"
"A woman," he replied simply.
"A woman? My, he's growing up at last… And that's why you're feeling like this?" He gazed sceptically at the old priest. "… I'm sorry. It must hurt you, to only be so involved."
"Yes, it does. He can never know how truly proud I am."
But that was not the only time he was tested…Several days later, he had been waiting up late for the return of his errant pupil and son. He had wondered where Set could have gone and had become worried, like any father would be. His son had never been this late before. He was usually holed up in the palace, reading. He had smiled, reminded of himself. Set truly took after him.
He had then seen his son arrive, his arm protectively wrapped around the waist of this woman he was so interested in. He had exchanged a few words with the pair, received and apology and he had smiled to himself as Set had escorted this woman away.
She seemed like a good prospect for his son, and would prove to be useful in making sure Set secured what was rightfully his.
His son would become king…--