Official Queen of Dragons Summary:
In the prospering desert kingdom of Ancient Egypt, a single woman with a heart of gold is brought into court due to her unearthly appearance and keen affinity for calming the rampaging minds of dragons. Her name is Kisara. Also in this land is a single boy who's about to be suddenly called upon from the crowds of peasants to become a son of the king. His name is Seto. As their worlds collide in a mix of ancient magic and intrigue, hearts will be tested, but in a world of snakes and old grudges, will love survive? Mizushipping
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Queen of Dragons
Prologue
Echoes
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It is said some lives, are linked across time,
Connected by an ancient calling, that echoes throughout the ages,
Destiny...
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The air was cool in the night. It whispered across the sullen dunes, enchanting their grains to dance to the wind's sweet tune across the valley. A valiant moon hung low in the sky, embracing the edges of the horizon and glowing a brilliant silver in the distance. It ascended higher every waking minute, enlarging its scope on the midnight world below; to observe and preserve the lower domain. The canvas above her head was specked with gleaming starlight, winking with a certain mischief that only they knew how to control. Twas' a beautiful night, but peace never lasted long.
Far above the palace of Egypt, stood a single girl with locks that contrast with the dark, and sapphire orbs that reflected the intellect and heart of a knowing individual. She always stood guard over the capital city in the earliest hours, watching, waiting for the inevitable darkness to combat the fierce purity of light. And if not tonight, then on another.
Trouble was never far, and Anubis made sure she kept her bargain with the Pharaohs. She pursed her lips, saddened. Dragons may waltz in fire, but the burns wreak havoc on the innocents left behind to mend the flames. Heat had never been her preference however, destiny had simply never given her a choice.
A gust of wind churned the sands of the slumbering city, a fair warning for a possible catastrophe of torrential winds to barrage whoever was naive enough not to sleep with one eye open. But then again, while the wrath of the desert was cruel, the hearts of men were far crueler.
Kisara learned this at a very young age.
"No!" she cried, flailing and bruised. "No! No, you can't force me! You can't!"
"Do you think you have a choice?" he hissed beside her mouth, their foreheads almost touching. Her master's breath reeked of death and decay, and the smell of unwashed bodies filled her nostrils in a pungent perfume. Bile rose in her throat.
The thousand lively cheers of peasants flooded her ears in a storm of thunder, and her heart thumped wildly in her chest. She knew exactly where her master had taken her.
The Pits of the capital were the hunting grounds of duelists who used the creatures of the shadow realm, a mythical reality that remained intertwined with her own world. Without any knowledgeable boundaries between dimensions, one treaded carefully in the dark, as it was their home abode, and many shadow creatures were known to be untamable and volatile towards humans. They were not created by the dark souls of others, nor were they able to possess human hosts to do their bidding, but they were of their own breed, a cross between the gods of the immortal dwellings and the human divide. A culture of extensive identity and broad meaning was behind every one of their people, and only a handful were able to be trained by humans.
But the Pits were a place where shadow creatures willingly subjected themselves to fight alongside humans. Why, she wasn't entirely certain. Perhaps it was their own desire for competition and bloodshed that they intermixed themselves with those they usually viewed as their inferior. Then there were the rarest type of people, who were able to tame and maintain trust with shadow creatures. The Millennium Court-the Pharaoh's council and personal advisors-was the most adept in this area, and few could, or would, have the slightest chance of going against them on equal grounds.
The strongest shadow creatures also happened to be the hardest to tame.
Unknowingly, she'd begun to shake. Men of young and old stomped their feet as the duels went on their way, the subchamber of the Pits located some two stories below her, where the duel took place. And one only got out if the opponent was dead or on the verge of dying, knock-outs and forfeits were prohibited by law of the Pit Master, who oversaw the proceedings from his raised perch high up in the stands. It was a kill or be killed mentality.
"Get your ass moving!" her master growled. Grabbing a handful of her hair, she cried out, but her master continued moving despite her pitiful attempts at protesting. Fresh tears flooded her vision as white strands were ruggedly pulled from her head, leaving welts of open flesh to bleed crimson. "Damn bitch."
Kisara's feeble whimpers were drowned out with the roar of the crowd, the large men and boys catcalling names and curse words left and right. And she knew, oh, she knew all too well what would transpire within the next several moments. Her master hadn't taken her here for a galavant trip of leisure enjoyment, but to gamble and wager on how well she'd do in the Pitts.
And as her fear grew, a power from beyond this world awakened from a deep slumber. In her heart, she felt it.
As another contender was slain by Gearfried the Iron Knight and his partner, she was pushed through the metal gates, the momentum driving her face into the hot sands of the Pitts. She choked on the little grains, coughing erratically and laughter erupted from the stands. Her opponent joined in their merriment too. In truth, she hadn't realized how long her master had pulled her along, but now it was her turn. Vaguely, she heard the gates lock with a creaking click from behind her, and she cried out, wanting out. "Get up!" her master hissed from the other side of the gate. She looked up at him, fear in her eyes. "You are not dying like some little baby with a Kuriboh to fight with. Get up, damn it! Kill or be killed."
Kill or be killed.
Her blood went cold. She didn't want to die!
"Are you going to get up, little girl?" her opponent taunted, grinning toothlessly from across the chamber. "I'm ready when you are!"
Scared for her life, she stared at her opponent, trembling. Slowly, she got to her feet, but not without an unsuccessful attempt that landed her right back on her stomach. Sonorous laughter rang in her ears, an unending call to the dead. Her master growled. Her shaky arms were giving out on her, but she finally managed to stand upright.
"What? No monster to help you?" her opponent called out, amused. Horrified by the mere implication of what she would release if that happened, she shook her head vigorously.
"Get that damn dragon out here!" her master demanded, and she visibly flinched. "You wanna die?"
Her opponent was undeterred by the comment however. "A dragon, huh? A pathetic, little bitch like you can call out a dragon?" He roared with laughter, and the crowd followed by example. "You're barely able to stand! How are you going to bring a dragon to the field? Even the most experienced Tamers can only call things out like Baby Dragon! What could you do?"
Kisara bit her lip and pushed down on her reserves, forcing the dragon into the shadows. She was unwilling to submit. Unleashing her dragon… The mere thought of it… She didn't want to go there. Not after the last time…
"No monster, huh?" He grinned, and drew a dagger from side. "Fine by me. Time to strike, Gearfried!"
Kisara paled when Gearfried himself came at her, arms gleaming with twin blades. He leapt towards her with inhuman speed, and she threw herself out of the way, barely evading his direct attack. She spared the iron man a glance, and those eyes bled a vivid crimson. Panicked, she scrambled away as quickly as she could, but her opponent himself was suddenly in front of her, dagger in hand. He swiped at her, and she ducked under his legs. She nearly crashed into the chamber wall, but stopped herself just in time, then ducked her head when the same dagger was sent flying at her forehead. She cried out, and the dagger fell to her head, the weight of metal probably leaving another bruise. However, it could also be used as a means of defense now.
She clutched the unfamiliar object in hand, presumably aware that many had died from this blade, but she held back the mortifying images of blood spatter and assassination. It would be a means of defense in her hands, no more, no less.
"Oh?" her opponent sang. "Going to dodge all day, huh? Think tiring me out will get you out of here, little girl? Not likely."
Kisara gulped. How was she going to get of here like this? Calling out her dragon was out of the question, but dying? No! She wasn't going to die like this!
"Gearfried, kill her, now!"
Eyes widening, Kisara ran away, her miniature legs barely gaining any distance from the shadow creature. Running wouldn't help her in this situation, she realized quickly. She needed to think of a strategy.
But time wasn't giving her any gifts.
She yelped when Gearfried attempted to slice her head clean off her shoulders, lowering herself and sprinting to the side without a scratch, bolting away as fast as she could. She pressed herself into an aclove of darkness thereafter, knowing that the dragon inside would allow her to remain hidden long enough to catch her breath. The shadows—while also Gearfried's domain as well as her dragon's—wouldn't be able to find her immediately. Her dragon would comply with her hopes, her powers keeping Kisara safe.
But her safe zone was invaded sooner than she expected. Her opponent grabbed her by the throat, and hauled her to the middle of the chamber, throwing her to the sands as she struggled to return the air to her lungs. She sucked in oxygen for dear life, the savory life-source eventually restored to her body, and she was able to conform secondary thoughts once more, like how she was going to be able to survive this life or death match. The odds were certainly not in her favor.
The crowds were roaring with cheers at her opponent's quick adversity, but Kisara wasn't about to let herself die. She still held the dagger she'd been holding, but had tucked it into one of her sleeves moments prior. Her opponent was completely unaware that she had it in her possession. That was his mistake.
I don't want to do this, but I am going to live. I will not throw my life away when I have yet to meet my savior again. I need to find Seto! I deeply apologize for this, sir, but I cannot let you kill me without seeing him again! I refuse to die here!
Without a second thought, Kisara plunged the dagger into the dirty flesh of his right foot. He cried out in pain, howling curses, and the cheers became even louder. Gritting her teeth against her inner demons, she withdrew her dagger, and got to her feet, scrambling to the far end of the chamber without looking back.
Scarlet droplets were left in her wake.
"You damnable bitch!" her opponent swore, crimson overflowing from his wound as he hobbled after her. He fell to the sands, unable to maintain his balance. He crushed his fists into the sands. "Gearfried, kill her! Do it! Do it now! Avenge me!"
Gearfried did as instructed, cornering her near the gate where her master stood behind. He was screaming at her, demanding that she bring out her trump card. To live damn it!
She didn't have a strategy at this point, and Gearfried's shadow was already enveloping her body in malicious darkness. Fear gnawed her senseless, but she wouldn't unleash her dragon. She wouldn't. She couldn't! Disaster struck whenever her dragon was involved. Lands had burned to the ground from her white lightning. Small kingdoms were toppled by accidental outbursts of emotion, but she'd learned to control it bit by dreary bit, containing the power by sheer willpower alone. All these people would die if it were released!
Seto… What would he do?
Tears flooded her vision, despair filling her soul as hopelessness set in. The knowledge that she'd never be able to see him again, the one person that had helped her since birth. The only kindness she'd ever received…
He was her hope, she realized then, her link to happiness. He was her one true dream. The single greatest dream she could ever even hope for. Seto. Like the setting sun, but really, he was her rising sun. The beginning of a new day, the start of a new chapter. Her light in all encompassing darkness. She would see him again, in this life. She would.
I will not die here.
Her tears vanished, and an energy form beyond the human world melded in her hands. Pure, electrical energy morphed into a spherical ball of white lightning, humming with immortal powers from a draconian dominion of light. Kisara's eyes glowed a brilliant blue, connecting with an otherworldly force.
"I WILL NOT DIE HERE!"
Then the White Lightning attack was thrown from her hands, and it collided with Gearfried with a sickening crack that expunged the iron knight from existence within the human world, searing his very spirit. She heard an alien scream, but it was drown out when her mind began to blur. Unknowingly, the attack had also successfully made contact with her opponent, killing him instantly.
But unable to stay on her feet, Kisara blacked out, falling to the sands.
The hearts of men were cruel, Kisara thought many years later, remembering that day's events as if they were yesterday.
But there were also men who were courageous and brave.
His footsteps echoed along the stone surface, and she turned to him. A bright smile adorned her lips, love pouring through into her very core. The moonlight reflected off his azure irises, making them shine. She loved his alluring shades of blue.
She ran to him, throwing her arms around his waist. She sighed into the linen tunic he wore, his body-heat a natural warmth in the cool night. "Seto…" she breathed. "My Pharaoh."
He reached out at the same time, and the content curve of his mouth transformed into the smallest smile. When they pulled away slightly, her arms wound their way around his neck, drawing him closer.
Everything was at peace. With the darkness defeated and locked away, and the time of war at its end, tranquility took hold over the prospering kingdom of Egypt. But victory was not without its many losses and scars, and they'd lost friends along the way. Their memory would never be forgotten, but the were in a better place in the heavens; among the gods and stars. And as it was, she was happy.
"Kisara," he whispered. "My Queen of Dragons."
As their lips met, the universe shattered into a thousand shades of blue.
And Seto remembered.
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Millennias past before the King of Dragons was reborn in the midst of modern Japan, his Queen the only one who remembered the past history of the events of their life together and the war against the forces of shadow.
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Long ago in a land far away, there once rose an empire that stretched from the steps of Arabia to the shores of the Mediterranean. That empire was Egypt. Fierce in battle, wise in victory. Where the Egyptian sword went, order followed. The Pharaoh, Aknamkanon, ruled with his brother, Aknadin, upon the principles of loyalty and brotherhood.
The Pharaoh had two sons who gave him great joy, but in the eyes of the gods, the Pharaoh's family was not yet complete.
Not until the day he witnessed a single act of courage, from an orphan boy from the streets of Memphis.
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The sun was high in the Eastern horizon, a spherical ball of undulating light. It was the abode of the Winged Dragon of Ra, Egyptian God of the Sun. And the capital city of Memphis was sweltering in the summer heat as Ra blazed down upon the lower domain with a burning inferno of fire. Perhaps Ra knew what the day meant for the Pharaohs. Joyous in knowledge as an omniscient, he probably did know.
But Seto didn't.
"Thanks," he muttered softly to the merchant. A freshly picked apple rested in his palm, the remainder of his copper spent from his need of food. He didn't frown or eye the apple with disdain as he remembered that he hadn't bought it for himself, but for Moku, a boy only a few years younger than himself, but his closest friend. Both orphaned at a young age, the two were a banded pact bound to each other. Few were aware of how far they were willing to go for one another, especially with Seto's decidedly waspish personality. Not many were able to breach past his arrogant intellect and vigilant gaze. Cold by nature, he was, but loyal to the end, he kept secret.
Despite being a street rat in the capital city of Egypt, Seto's mother, a frail being with little to her name, had somehow made a deal with people beyond her status before her untimely demise. Her deal had allowed for Seto to receive an education, and in turn, a possible future that twisted with some of the most powerful humans on Earth. Not that he knew that now, of course.
Raised on the dustlain streets within the last several years, Seto had flourished as a student, excelling in fields that nobles couldn't even compare themselves in. Dueling, strategy, history, war, spirituality, and overall brilliance of the mind, he wasn't one to forget. His scores were unlike any before him, and it would be his greatest asset in the events to come. He was only twelve years old.
Years.
How many years had it been since he'd seen the maiden with the eyes of blue? And what had become of the white dragon?
His lips fell into a frown, and his grip on the apple tightened.
What had become of them both?
The high-pitched neigh of a horse shattered his thoughts. His eyes darted around the area. The garb of the Pharaoh's Guard adored men on horseback, the signature beads and colors capturing the attentions of the market people. But that wasn't what he cared for. Moku was standing before one of the guardsmen, frozen as the horse raged onward, until he stopped just in time. The guardsmen let out a yelp as his horse raised itself onto two legs, protesting for being halted so abruptly. A sharp neigh pierced the air once more, and gravity did the rest.
Silence befell the marketplace and Moku was snatched by another pair of guards. The fallen guardsman stood on his feet in an instant, enraged from being humiliated in such a fashion. Seto raced through the marketeers for fear of what would happen, but he was unable to hinder the guardsmen from retaliating. The man presumed to beat Moku, landing jabs on his face and chest with the back of his hand, and Seto had seen quite enough.
The cries from his closest friend drove him down a path that would set the course of history's greatest war.
"Enough!" he bellowed into the air. But the guard wasn't listening. With a keen thought to the consequences, Seto hurled his newly bought apple at the guardsman. Though not a knife or a sword, it provided a decent distraction, and that was all he needed. He didn't flinch as the guardsman whirled on him, yelling out a warning of predestined pain if he was caught. The guardsman had done exactly as he'd predicted, and Moku fled to his side as the entirety of the Pharaoh's Guard chased after them in a flurry of commands and curses.
"Run, Moku," Seto called. "Run!"
And run they did.
Unknown to either of them, the Pharaoh himself watched the proceedings with an eye of interest. The Millennium Court as well.
Seto and Mokuba climbed the nearest wall, hands digging into the hot mud as they raced over rooftops and into an aclove where they momentarily rested. The Pharaoh's Guard wasn't too far behind them, but their massive armor and adult weight hindered their already slow progress.
"Stay here," Seto hissed, and Moku complied with a shaken nod. Seto then ran back into the fray, the Pharaoh's Guard shouting that he was within sight. He grit his teeth as he leapt from one building to the next, soaring over an unkempt alleyway where more guards added themselves to aid in his capture.
The guardsmen were less than graceful as they attempted to climb atop the stone buildings of the marketplace, but Seto was agile and quick in his movements. He didn't fall and he didn't waver, and that was how he was managing to get away. He also knew the routes and places by heart. Somehow he'd known he'd need his mental map of the capital one day.
He stopped at one building in particular to slow down. A dozen or so guards were on the building behind him, and as they leapt onto the one he stood upon, they were immediately dragged downwards, the top having collapsed beneath them. They screamed out loud, hitting the ground with a groan. At least that got rid of a few, he thought grimly. He continued on.
Nible and deft, Seto sprinted along foot-length walls and the rails of balconies, reminding himself that he couldn't stop moving. Guardsmen fell as he went, slipping on slanted buildings and landing awkwardly from their jumps. Some were just too slow, and others were just too heavy for the acrobatics he easily managed. Seto kept them on their toes, but there were far too many men, and while Seto wasn't even beginning to tire, he knew he was going to be surrounded. From an aerial perspective, he could see the guardsmen chasing him from the ground. He wouldn't be able to go anywhere soon.
As he rounded a corner, some two dozen guardsmen were waiting for him there. With no weapon to defend himself, he was all but caught. So, he played his trump card.
Calling upon the aid of a shadow creature was a rare sight, even for a man of the Pharaoh's Guard. It was probably why they hadn't used one against him, but Seto was a practiced Tamer and understood the use of heartstrings. His studies had taught him much. "I release thee from the void, Lord of Dragons."
A man with skeletal armor and a cape as dark as the midnight hour appeared from the shadows. The guardsmen reeled back from the shadow creature, terrified at its hulking form, but before Seto could make any commands, two guardsmen threw themselves on the frontlines. A struggling Moku was sandwiched between them, arms pressed behind his back in a bone-breaking angle. Three degrees inward, and his shoulder would snap.
As he saw Seto, Moku cried, "Don't you dare do something you'll regret! You are not throwing your life away to save mine!" Moku knew Seto so well. He would lay his life down for the friend he treated like a little brother. But Seto wasn't going to just let him die..
Seto closed his eyes, defeated at his own game. There was nothing more to be done. No intelligence or strategy could help him now. He'd rather pass on with Moku than see him die for no reason other than petty revenge over something as stupid as pride.
Seto wasn't heartless.
"Leave me," he ordered quietly, and Lord of Dragons vanished into the shadows once more. Holding up his hands, the Pharaoh's Guard descended upon him. Dragged back into the square where this mess had started, Seto recognized the guardsman he'd recently insulted, but he felt no trace of fear, merely begrudging acceptance. If it had been anyone else other than Moku, he would've made more of a struggle to escape, but not with the little boy whom he treated as his brother. Risk wasn't an option.
Maybe their hearts would be weighted kindly in the underworld instead.
The guardsmen was infuriated when he saw Seto. The ones who'd found him before kept his head down for the most part, their nails digging into the flesh of his scalp and tearing at his hair. He snapped his neck in all directions, wanting to at least look into the eye of the man who would kill him.
His head would roll, hew knew. What wasted talent, he thought snidely. Great things could've come from him.
From the edges of his peripheral, a sharpened blade gleamed in the guardsman's hand. It glinted from the sun, and the other two guards finally allowed him raise his head. Setting his lips into a deep sneer, he pointed his strangely blue-eyed glare at his soon-to-be murderer, prepared yet gloriously stubborn. Seeing this, the insulted guardsman let out a battle cry before gathering his sword in the collapsed grip of his hand. Seto didn't close his eyes, and watched with gritting teeth as the sword ripped through the air and towards his throat.
Let the people see how unafraid of death he was. Let them bear witness to a display where a hero would die from simply being who he was.
Seto didn't like bullies.
But the blow didn't meet its mark.
And something extraordinary happened.
"IN THE PHARAOH'S NAME!"
All at once, the people of the marketplace fell to the ground, bowing to the one they revered and treasured as Pharaoh. Their leader, their king, their personification of Horus. Their Pharaoh.
The once gleaming sword of the guardsman clattered to the ground, and the guardsmen who'd been holding him back, released him from their hold. Seto was the only one to remain standing other than the Pharaoh and his council, who were all drawn up on horseback. Gold and silver adorned their heads, the Millennium Items around their necks and heads and hands. The very air about them was regal and profound, the very definition of their trade and duties presented in both posture and expression. The most powerful people in all of Egypt were before him. The entirety of the Millennium Court.
The Pharaoh himself was nearest Seto, observing his reactions with unabashed interest. The Millennium Puzzle glowed a faint gold for only a second, but Seto was aware of the change. What immortal magic rested in the Items he would never know, but they radiated a force he'd never experienced in this life.
"What is your name, boy?" the Pharaoh inquired.
There wasn't a hint of nerves as he declared, "Seto." As an afterthought, he added, "Your Majesty."
"And your parents?"
Seto's chest tightened. A vision of his mother flashed was in his mind, and he looked away, resting his glare at the ground.
That was answer enough for the Pharaoh, but he paused in his thinking. Finally, he called, "Boy?" Seto spared him a glance, but his eyes were cold. In the Pharaoh's hand was the apple he'd thrown at the guardsman, and he tossed it to Seto without a second thought. He caught it, staring at the fruit in mild blankness. What good would this do him now-"Aknadin, take him with you."
Seto's head snapped up, finding the bearer of the Millennium Eye sizing him up from his perch on horseback. He held out a leathery hand, the years of servitude a blatant reminder on his skin. Seto took it anyway, his intuitive mind calculating the reasons behind the Pharaoh's actions. Surely he couldn't be-
"Another one, hmm?" Aknadin muttered to himself, almost intrigued by the notion. Seto briefly pondered whether or not the man cared if he heard his ramblings. "I can't say it's a bad idea for now, but…"
Seto wasn't sure how to respond to that, but shock eventually found its place on his heart. A son of the Pharaoh. What would've caused the ruler of Egypt to think of such a wild notion? The lack of parents, or… Or what? What he'd done for Moku? What would've...
But taken from his shock he was, when the Palace came into view. His shoulders relaxed, and he held his head high. For now, he wouldn't question it. He would find out more in the passing hours.
He'd become a Prince of Egypt.
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Moved by what he saw, the king adopted the boy Seto into his family. A son with no royal blood and no eye on his throne. But perhaps there was something else at work that day, something beyond simple understanding. The day a boy from the unlikeliest of places became a prince of Egypt.
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Queen of Dragons
Character Names:
Moku - Mokuba Kaiba
Author's Note:
Prologue complete~! Short, I know, but the regular chapters will be longer, I can assure you! Next chapter will start at the end of the flashback shown and that will be considered the present time instead, make sense? The beginning and end scene were glimpses into the VERY distant future.
All characters from the YuGiOh franchise will appear in their ancient forms, including ones not featured in either the anime or manga in their ancient forms, because I really wanted to have them in this story, like having Atem and Yugi as brothers, and including Tea and Joey in their respective roles. Names will be similar, but different (other than Yugi). Seto will very much have the personality of Seto Kaiba. Side Pairings will be included, but will be used as SIDE pairings only.
Warning: There will be blood and gore in this story. But there will be moments of fluff added as necessary/desired. ;)
Just saying here, but I totally got Seto's becomings as a Prince from Disney's 'Prince of Persia'. It's one of my favorite movies ever, and I figured that if Seto ever became royalty-before he became Pharaoh anyways, following Atem-it would be kind of like this. He has a certain honor about him, a greatness, and I wanted that seen immediately.
This is set 3,000 years before the events of my sequel/modern time period story 'King of Dragons'
Inform me of errors please.
And review, lovely readers! Constructive criticism is happily read by yours truly.
Have a lovely day~!
-CassandraRoyal