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STORY WARNINGS/ALERTS: Violence, Dark themes, morbidity, character death/s, torture,possible inaccuracy/manipulation of facts/history/canon, unrealistic stuff, and other fictional elements that make this story fiction. If you don't like such things, then obviously this story isn't for you.
CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS/ALERTS: Wordy angst.
USUAL REPRESENTATIONS: *see notes at the bottom of the page;"Dialogue"; thoughts/emphasis/foreign terms/flashback/etc…/'etc…'
Chapter 1
The Promise
1261 B.C. – New Kingdom
A lone figure was walking along the riverbank, not paying heed to the eerie lonesomeness brought about by the night. He was following the Great River, not even slowing nor speeding his candid pace. His footsteps made no sound. From afar, it seemed as though he was gliding. With his cloak flared by the wind, he resembled a lost soul wandering the night.
A smirk adorned his lips as the sound of roaring water grew stronger. A mighty waterfall came into view. The very sight of it made him smirk. He finally arrived at his destination – Kush*.
He moved forward, his pace faster than before, gliding past some exhausted people about to retire for the night, clay houses that illuminated the darkness, and numerous stalls that were bare, the merchants having retired for the night.
In the midst of the soon-to-be sleeping province, a large palace stood. It wasn't as grand as that of the Capital's, but it still stood out among its surrounding structures.
"Halt! Who goes there?!"
The figure stopped in front of the palace gates as the two guards took a defensive stance, ready to strike should he be a threat. Not phased in the slightest, he simply pulled down his hood. The guards, upon seeing the teal-green mane and amber-emerald heterochromatic* eyes, bowed low. "Forgive our insolence, Master Dartz," one of the guards—the one who had addressed his presence—nearly stammered.
The man identified as Dartz simply waved the apology aside and wordlessly entered the palace when the gates were opened. Once he passed through the gardens, a servant intercepted him before he could enter the palace hall.
"My Lord," the young servant greeted, bowing at the waist. "The King's Son of Kush* awaits you," she stated without breaking her stance. "I have been ordered to bring you to his quarters upon your arrival. Please follow me." She straightened up and led the way.
They entered the hall, ascending the stairs located on the other side. The silent journey came to an end when they reached an arch flanked by two heavily built guards. Each had a spear they held in a way that barred the path. The servant bowed to her charge before leaving.
"Master Dartz has arrived, my lord," one of the guards announced. There was a moment of silence before a gruff voice replied,
"Let him enter."
The guards uncrossed their spears in practiced unison, crossing it once again when the visitor had entered the chamber. A giggle drew his attention to the bed. Two scantily dressed women were sprawled across the cotton, their ministrations interrupted by his presence.
A man was seated upon a gold-plated chair, his back turned to Dartz and an arm extended—the hand leisurely holding a golden goblet. "Leave us," the same gruff voice ordered. The women, knowing what awaited them should they hesitate, immediately exited the room. Once the two men were alone,
"Any news from Waset*?" the man asked before taking a sip from the goblet.
Dartz straightened up, a little irritated by the Viceroy's nonchalant demeanor. "The Pharaoh has purged the demon that threatened Kemet," he announced.
The man finally stood up and turned to face Dartz. The latter could tell that he was containing his fury. "I already know that," he sneered. His violet eyes peered studiously at the visitor when he added, "It's difficult to miss the explosion of light and the disappearance of that massive beast a few hours* ago." Gesturing to Dartz, he made his way towards the balcony behind him. "The devastation must be immense," he mused aloud. His cream-colored cloak and platinum-blonde, spiky hair danced with the cool night breeze as he surveyed the distance. The black shenti* he wore did nothing to protect him from the cold, yet not a shiver racked his form as the cold air assaulted him.
"I could see the fire and smoke from here, and that demon towering over the carnage," he continued after taking another swig from the goblet. Gazing at the meagre contents, his grip on it tightened. "If that is the only news you have for me, then you've wasted both of our time." The goblet was thrown to the floor, its contents spilling to the ground while the metal landed with a clatter. He turned to the man behind him. "And you know how I dislike having my time wasted," he snarled menacingly.
Dartz was not phased in the slightest, despite knowing what the man was capable of. The Viceroy was famous for his ruthlessness, brutality, and his gifted skills in causing pain. He was known throughout the kingdom as the King of Pain—a title he was very much proud of.
The King's Son of Kush was a man feared by many.
"Then you should know that now is the perfect time to strike," Dartz replied smoothly as he approached and stopped beside the Viceroy. "Though the Pharaoh has defeated the demon, the battle has weakened him and reduced the Capital to shambles."
"I know." A smile formed on the Viceroy's lips before he chuckled deviously. The chuckle evolved into maniacal laughter that echoed into the night. "By Ra! The signs have never been clearer!" he declared, arms raised before he turned to Dartz. "After three years of his pathetic rule, the Gods have finally deemed that brat unworthy of the throne!" He laughed again.
Watching the Viceroy bask in his moment of glory, Dartz smirked. The man was so feared by his subjects, he could get away with blasphemy against the Pharaoh. He would be of great use to his cause. "I hope you have not forgotten our agreement," he reminded when the man calmed down.
The Viceroy nodded. He turned around and leaned his back on the balcony railing. "I haven't," he said knowingly before returning to his chambers. He addressed the guards beyond his room, "Tell the men to begin the preparations for battle." He smirked. "It's time for a new Pharaoh to take the throne."
…
"My Pharaoh, please rest yourself. You've been weakened from the battle."
The Pharaoh, realizing that further movement was causing him more pain, finally stopped trying to rise from his bed. He took a deep breath, wincing as his wounds began to sting from the salve Isis was using. He gripped his chest. The area still throbbed mercilessly after he performed the ultimate sacrifice.
The ritual was performed a night prior, engulfing the demon in a light so bright it looked like Ra decided to rise in the middle of the night. The demon had been sealed inside the Millennium Puzzle, but not without a heavy cost.
The ritual required a soul of equal, if not greater, power—one of purity and light. He didn't hesitate to offer his own soul when they realized it was more than qualified, much to his subjects' horror.
The sacrifice had been made. His fate had been sealed,
And his subjects still refused to accept it.
"There has to be another way to contain the demon!"
The Pharaoh sighed and braced himself for another argument. Priest Seto had finally stopped pacing outside and finally graced them with his presence. "There is none, Seto," the Pharaoh stated. "You need not fret. It is a sacrifice that I am willing to make."
"But it is too cruel a sacrifice," Seto argued. Realizing his aggressive tone, he bowed his head. "Forgive my insolence, Pharaoh."
The Pharaoh waved it aside. "It is a sacrifice that will save this kingdom," he said confidently. "As Pharaoh, it is my duty to do everything in my power to protect Kemet." He looked Seto in the eye. "Even if it means denying my right to the Afterlife."
Silence fell upon them, broken by a choked sob that echoed beyond the entrance to the Pharaoh's quarters. The Pharaoh lost his serious demeanor upon recognizing the broken voice. "Mana," he whispered. He slowly propped himself up as the young apprentice peered at him from beyond the arch. "Please enter."
Mana did as told, slightly shrinking from the intimidating gaze Priest Seto threw at her; but seeing her childhood friend—weakened and bedridden—strengthened her resolve. "Prince!" she cried, tears streaming down her face as she rushed to her king and embraced him, mindful of his injuries. Burying her face on her king's chest, she succumbed to her grief.
The Pharaoh held on to her, occasionally whispering words of comfort and tightening his hold reassuringly. "Hush now, Mana," he whispered as the apprentice faced him. Gently cupping her face in both hands, he thumbed away the tear-tracks that stained her cheeks. "Death hasn't claimed me yet," he added in a lighter tone.
Mana sniffled and took her king's hands in her own trembling ones. "But when it does—" She whimpered and tightened her grip "—y-you'll suffer for eternity!"
The Pharaoh bit his lip and embraced her as she succumbed to her grief once more. Save for her sobbing, the room was silent. He could tell that his two remaining priests were just as distressed as she was, but they kept their silence.
It was a fact that no-one wanted to acknowledge.
As long as the demon was locked in the confines of the Puzzle, The Pharaoh's soul would be bound to the Item. His death would shatter the Puzzle just as much as the shattering of the Puzzle would be his demise. Whichever happened first, both would lead to the same fate,
Upon his death, his soul—instead of entering the Afterlife—would be imprisoned with the demon inside the Millennium Puzzle.
He had sentenced himself to a fate worse than death.
I'm sorry, the Pharaoh thought, his eyes closed and struggling to hold back tears. He tightened his grip on Mana's trembling form. But there is no other way. Isis had a hand covering her mouth while Seto had his head bowed, eyes obscured by the shadow of his chestnut bangs. "Have you done what I asked of you?" he queried, earning him everyone's attention.
A heavy silence hovered over before Seto finally answered, "It shall be carried out, my king."
Mana had frozen upon hearing those words. "No…" she whimpered as she turned to her Pharaoh. "Please reconsider, Prince!"
The Pharaoh avoided her gaze. "It is for the best, Mana. I do not wish to discuss it anymore."
But Mana wasn't having any of it…
"Haven't you suffered enough?!" Mana yelled, startling the Priests. "Not only do you accept such a terrible fate, but you're also going to deface yourself?!" She buried her face on his chest once more. "Please stop punishing yourself, Prince! Please!"
"Mana!" Isis gasped, pulling the bawling apprentice away from the unresponsive king. "Please control yourself." She turned to her Pharaoh, "My Pharaoh, I apologize on Mana's behalf. Please grant us permission to leave you in peace."
"Permission granted," the Pharaoh stated.
"No!" Mana cried out as she tried to fight Isis' hold on her. She turned to her king, heartbroken to find that he was not looking at her. "Prince!"
No response…
Severely hurt by the cold treatment, Mana rushed out of the room, ignoring Isis who pursued her.
With the ladies gone, the Pharaoh released a shaky breath. He resisted the urge to wrap his arms around himself. Seeing Mana distraught made his heart heavy and ache.
"She has a point, your highness."
The Pharaoh sighed and shook his head. "I never thought I'd see the day you would approve of anything she says," he added in an exasperated tone.
"Erasing your name is a great dishono—"
"—that would keep the demon from causing destruction!" the Pharaoh interjected. He sighed. "It needs to be done, to ensure that the demon shall not escape," he explained. He leaned back, the action a little too fast, bringing about a surge of pain from his bruised side. A hand was immediately held up to stop his trusted priest from coming to his aid, the other clutching the affected area. Taking slow and steady breaths, he forced himself to relax as he waited for the pain to end—or, at least, become bearable.
Unable to take the sight, "Fetch the healers!" Seto barked at the guards by the chamber entrance before hastily approaching the king's bedside, taking hold of the cloth and a clay jar atop it. Using the cloth, he scooped a generous amount of the healing salve from the jar.
The Pharaoh, seeing his Priest's intentions, removed the hand covering his side. A palm-sized bruise marred the area, standing out with its deep purple hue. Surrounding it were smaller marks of purple and angry streaks of red.
Seeing it made the Priest's heart heavy with disappointment—disappointment in himself. He had taken an oath to protect his king, keeping him safe from harm. Adding weight to his already burdened heart was the fact that his allegiance wasn't just due to the oath or the fact that his liege was Kemet's hope and future.
It was something he shared with the other Priests. It was the only thing he had in common with Mahado and his annoying apprentice…
Friendship…
He had known the Pharaoh since he was a prince, even going so far as sharing a (not so) healthy rivalry with him. A brilliant and mischievous boy, his liege had caused plenty of headaches. Together with Mana, they're the very definition of trouble. He was arrogant, self-righteous, naïve, reckless, and (slightly) spoiled. Not much better than the pampered brats Seto had met when he was still a priest-in-training. But what struck the priest was the fact that he always had everyone's best interests at heart, to the point that he'd neglect himself. Fiercely standing up for the people he loved and what he believed was right, he saw people as people, his court as friends, and treated them as such. Selfish and unjust would never be among the many words that could describe his former-prince.
During his reign, his Pharaoh was akin to a strict parent who only wanted what's best for all his children. Despite his youth, he possessed admirable intelligence which he used to propel Kemet to prosperity. But his reign was not without conflicts. His desire for fairness and equality, coupled with his reckless insistence had earned him a number of enemies among the wealthy, but his arrogance and tenacity ensured their begrudging acceptance and quelled their rage to a quiet simmer. It made Seto and the rest of Kemet's people admire him even more. Hence, many obeyed him, had sworn to protect him, out of loyalty and respect more than duty.
And he, Priest Seto—the strongest of the Pharaoh's servants—failed to do so.
"Stay strong, my king," he whispered, an uncharacteristic note of concern in his voice when the Pharaoh flinched as the cool salve touched his skin. "Your people need you."
The Pharaoh leaned back, eyes absently staring at the ceiling. Such destruction. All brought about by one thief's rage. Bakura's revelation had impaled his mind with guilt.
Left behind to witness ninety-nine souls of friends and family sacrificed for the Items, he was scarred and twisted by such brutality. He was driven by the need for retribution; to punish those who were truly responsible…
The Royal Family.
The Thief couldn't be blamed for his rage. He had every right to be. If only he didn't endanger the innocent. If only he took his anger out on him alone. He would have obliged him.
His people certainly didn't need a ruler whose legacy was marred by the blood of the innocent. He needed to be punished, to atone for all those souls who suffered because of the Items.
He felt the Priest freeze in his ministrations. Looking at him, he found those blue eyes directly on his own. The pupils were dilated in horror.
It seemed some of his thoughts escaped through his lips.
"My King," Seto whispered, aghast at his Pharaoh's words. "You are not to blame for what that thief accuses you of!" he growled, Bakura's title spoken as though he just spat at filth's feet. "You are innocent just as your father was. If there is anyone to blame, it should be Akhenaden!" Anger simmered in his heart at the mention of his so-called father.
"His intentions were pure despite the means," the Pharaoh murmured.
Seto bit his lip. They had learned from Mahado that the Items were forged fifteen summers ago. A war had been brewing. Invaders had breached their kingdom, looted everything in their path until only the Capital was left. Had it not been for the power of the Items, Kemet would've crumbled that day.
But what's a foreign invasion compared to a demon's wrath? Fifteen years of prosperity only to end in fire and, for their Pharaoh, a fate much worse than death? The Items couldn't have been the only option that day!
Just like the Sealing Ritual couldn't be their only salvation now…
A low grunt broke Seto's train of thought. The Pharaoh was slightly hunched over, face pinched and a hand pressed to his bruised side. Seto's fists clenched uselessly at his side. Where are those damned healers?!
Once the pain receded, "But that is no excuse for what was done to the people of Kul Elna," the Pharaoh mused. "Innocent lives should never be sacrificed for the kingdom, for that is the duty of the Pharaoh."
Seto froze as the Pharaoh turned to face him. Those fiery eyes were weary from the heavy burden he was carrying. "Seto. I have a favour to ask of you," he said.
The priest dipped his head. "Anything, my king."
For a second, a smile graced the king's face. But perhaps, it was just Seto's imagination. "I want you to be my heir."
Blue eyes widened. Seto nearly fell back in shock, eyes never leaving his king's face as though waiting for him to say that it was another one of his poor attempts at humour.
But the Pharaoh remained serious and slightly irritated at Seto's hesitation. He closed his eyes and sighed, turning towards the balcony. "We are cousins, are we not? And I have no heir of my own." He glanced at the priest. "I do not see why it is such a problem."
"B-but… I… You'll be fulfilling Akhenaden's wish!" The words Seto spoke seemed to be stuck on his tongue. "Our battle against him will be in vain!"
"Calm yourself, Seto," the Pharaoh practically groaned with a roll of his eyes. "It's not like I'm asking you to strike me down right now." He sobered up and turned away again, hands tightening on the sheets pooled at his hips. "I have no son and I don't think I have the time for that with everything that's happened."
"But—"
"Promise me, Seto," the Pharaoh interjected, snapping his gaze up at the tall priest. "Promise me you will take over when I can no longer keep going."
Those red eyes pierced his own blue orbs. Seto couldn't turn away. He couldn't stop his mouth from falling agape when his king's hand took hold of his right fist. It was so small compared to his. "Do this for me. Not as your Pharaoh. But as your friend and cousin."
He remained silent as his mind struggled to comprehend such a responsibility. To his relief, the Pharaoh didn't push him. He was patiently waiting, those red eyes looking at him with understanding. Seto remembered that he had his jaw open and closed it with a snap. He didn't have much of a choice. His Pharaoh hardly took 'no' for an answer. "I promise," he finally said, his limp hand finally returning the Pharaoh's grip.
Beyond the room, just a hairsbreadth from the Pharaoh's line of sight, Mana placed a fist to her mouth, stemming the whimpers that could give her away but not the tears that flowed from her eyes.
A/N: Hello, peeps! Miss me? Been a while since I published a fic. To those who read Sealed Fate, I promised something big. Well. Here it is. A redux. While it's still an AU/AE fic regarding the aftermath of Atem's sealing, this one's going to be different. And, it's (probably) going to be illustrated by yours truly. Illustrated version will be up shortly in my shiny new AO3 account (link's on my profile). What better way to practice my drawing and hone my writing skills than by making an illustrated fic, no?
Notes:
*Kush: Nubia
*Heterochromatic: adjective form of Heterochromia, a case wherein one has more than one eye color.
*King's son of Kush (Hieroglyphic: Sa-nisut-n-Kush): Refers to the Viceroy of Kush. Kush was a province/colony of Ancient Egypt during the New Kingdom. It was ruled by a Viceroy who answered directly to the Pharaoh
*Waset: Ancient Egyptian for Thebes, the Capital of the New Kingdom.
*Hour (Hieroglyphic: wnwt) and other measurements of time – Egyptian Equivalent values of time: 24 hours (12 daytime, 12 nighttime) = 1 day. 30 days = 1 month. 12 months (divided into three seasons (Akhet, Peret, Shemu), each with four months) = 1 year.
*Shenti: the skirt-thing Ancient Egyptians wore.
Next time on For the Greater Good:
The guards were all gathered around the main entrance, majority with their backs against the doors. Those who didn't were armed and ready to fight to the death. Another strong crash. The gold-plated wood was starting to fall apart.
One soldier—the captain of the guards—took notice of the four. "Your grace! You must flee! The doors cannot hold out much longer!"
A third crash and the doors finally fell.
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Date Posted: May23,2015 (GMT + 8:00)