Author: Desidera
Title: Lord Wolfshade
Rating: PG13
Pairings: Seto/Atemu, Seth/Atemu
Warnings or Spoilers: None, except that it's AU
Status: (1/1)
Disclaimer: The German fairytale "König Drosselbart" is not mine, neither are the Yugioh characters. I don't own the sun, the moon and the stars. I don't own the Nile. I don't even own a book of fairytales, because I can't find mine and had to borrow it from my classmate in order to write this.
Summary: "Auntie, tell me the story of Lord Wolfshade. The one about the beautiful prince who didn't want to marry." SetoAtemu, SethAtemu, One shot, Challenge story for KnY, AU
Author's Notes: I love fairytales. The one I used as an inspiration for this fic is in German called "König Drosselbard", which means directly translated "King Thrushbeard". But I got this weird idea to toss the whole story into an Egyptian setting, where there are no thrushes…well, I made the necessary changes. Hope you'll like it.
Thanks to:
Dragon, for help, suggestions and support, and mic and Telpei for encouragement! –kisses-
And thanks to everyone who reviews my stories and encourages me to write! –hugs- This is kinda my one year anniversary on FFNet (some time past already but because of recent events in RL I wasn't really in the mood to post this although it was already finished) Thanks to you all for staying with me for all this time! Love you all!
"Will you tell me a story, Aunt Amelia?"
"Will you quit jumping and promise to sleep if I tell you a story, little imp?"
"I will and I promise."
"Alright then, lie down. Let me pull up the covers. Here. Is this not much better? What story do you want to hear?"
"Tell me the story of Lord Wolfshade, Auntie."
"You hear that one at least twice a week, you should know it by heart by now…Well, my little imp, this is the story of Lord Wolfshade"
Once upon a time there emerged a powerful kingdom from a place where hot dry sands met cool and life-giving waters, where the desert met the river of the gods that they called the Nile, where those waters that flooded the area made it fertile at certain times of the year, giving peasants and settlers the chance to survive in the otherwise infertile land.
Splendour and wealth were built up over centuries, and adorned in golden glittering ornaments the Pharaonic dynasties arose, gods on earth, media of the divine will. The morning and the evening star.
The people of the kingdom of the Nile, known by the name of Kehmet, had seen many a pharaoh and many a pharaoh's son but there was a general agreement among the current population that their successor to the throne had to have the most beautiful features the gods had ever formed. He was said to be a masterpiece of Creation, the embodiment of each and every god's appearance in the sky, from Ra's sun to Chons' moon to Nut's stars.
In the entire kingdom there was only one thing that could surpass his beauty, and that was his arrogance. Any living people, from commoners to kings were to him but a mediocrity and he tremendously enjoyed making them feel it. He would walk through halls of thousands of pillars, his head, adorned with wild hair of the colour of firelilies, crowned with Kehmet's golden symbols of power, raised high so the ones he passed by would understand once and for all that they were not even worthy of one look of his sundown-red eyes.
Due to his scorn of others Atemu, the crown prince, lead a lonely life, much to the chagrin of his father, who was slowly beginning to feel old and wrinkled and thinking about passing the throne to his son. This act, unfortunately, required after the law of Kehmet a marriage of the soon-to-be pharaoh so the balance of god and goddess would bring stability to the land.
Those were not the plans of the young prince. With a contemptuous laugh he dismissed the ideas and suggestions of his father, stating in his deep commanding voice that in the entire world he did not have an equal in knowledge, talent and mind, and therefore no one could be able to provide stability in marriage with him.
The desperate pharaoh tried to prove him wrong and started to invite nubile young women from all over Kehmet, and, when they were refused, from the furthest and most exotic lands, true marvels each of them, possessing beauty the likes of which Kehmet had never seen before, with the only exception of their own prince.
So the number of potential brides was lead into the throne room and brought before the heir to the throne with a flourish. A gentle breeze found its way inside the thick stone walls with the colourful hieroglyphics on it, rustling and whispering in a hundred different kinds of fabrics, cloths and draperies. From silk to cotton, from velvet to wool, from linen to leather everything was there, a sea of colours that even the old queen of Kehmet, Atemu's mother, had never laid eyes upon before.
The breeze lightly stroked the lonely prince's cheek as he scrutinised the long rows of women who were shivering under the gaze of those eyes, however bored they might have met theirs, however short the moment of their eye contact might have been.
Less than a minute of tense waiting it took the future pharaoh to survey them all. Then he turned away with a yawn and requested indifferently to be left alone and for the girls to be sent home without further delay.
Sadly, the peasants watched them go, carriage after carriage, and to the wondering, fascinated men each of them seemed to be laden with birds of paradise being brought home to their own lands, so marvellous were the colours of their various dresses shining in the bright sunlight.
Most of all people the old pharaoh mourned their parting and the decision of his son, but he would not let go of his plans just yet. Perhaps, he mused, only another male's mind could equal or even rival the intelligence and strength of Atemu's own. A marriage to another man was still better than no marriage at all. Thus he made arrangements for other princes and kings known for their sharp minds and intellectual talents to be invited to the palace.
If possible their arrival was even more pompous than that of the preceding girls. Clad in shining armour themselves most of them brought more than the necessary amount of guards to display their power and military strength. The armies cried their Hails to the young pharaoh then moved to the side, while the princes waved their servants and slaves over who presented the rarest and most beautiful gifts each land could give to the pharaoh's son, trying to win his approval.
Annoyance was evident on Atemu's face as the line of marriage candidates seemed to lack an end. Yet, being shot disapproving glares from the old queen, he bothered to take a look at each of the young men. Never did his expression change, neither did he allow them to speak to him more than a few words of courtesy.
However, when after one hour the end of the ceremony was still far out of sight, a nasty scowl took over the prince's heavenly features, as he interrupted the words of praise a small sandy haired baron was delivering , his tone deep, menacing.
"What do you think you are doing here, Unworthy, talking to the son of Horus the Great as if he would trouble himself with the sound of your screeching voice? No more than a jackal you are to him, dishevelled and skinny."
The queen hissed in anger and the old pharaoh's face turned bright red. Lazily, the heir to the throne waved the shattered baron away, but did not even give the next one, an African tribe leader with dark brown skin, a chance to speak.
"And you, Thicklips? Do you deem yourself capable of pleasuring the morning and the evening star, the jewel of Kehmet?"
In that manner he continued to utter his disgust towards each and every man in the hall. The queen glowered darkly at her son, the pharaoh had his head buried in his hands, trying to escape from the scene of humiliation.
Men were leaving the palace before it was their turn to talk to the soon-to-be ruler, slaves were ordered to gather ignored gifts and carry them back to the various carriages and horses.
Finally only one man remained behind, his pale skin and stillness giving him the appearance of a marble statue while the look in his eyes that were an intense and intelligent blue added the stoic air of a sphinx to the slender grace of his long limbs that were covered in travelling robes, blue in reference to his eyes.
Only four servants accompanied him, discreetly shielding him from behind, seemingly giving him freedom to move around without them, but one look at the pale faces that were hidden beneath light blue hoods made it perfectly clear that, should the situation require it, they were able to kill in the blink of an eye, move with the quiet speed of the Egyptian cats themselves and would furthermore remained utterly, self-destructively faithful to their lord.
Atemu rose from his seat, narrowing his eyes.
"Why are you still here? Has the son of the gods not made his intentions perfectly clear? Do you long for humiliation, White-skinned? The fury of Horus' child is provoked, who would in his infinite foolishness dare approach him now? Indeed, what would the prince of Kehmet want with a worm that shuns the sun and will forever be devoid of colour, disappearing in the earth as white as it emerged? You resemble a white crippled mutt of a wolf that howls to Chons' moon at night, aspiring to be lifted up to it as you desire to be the King of Kehmet. Get back to the lands where you came from, Lord Wolfshade!
As the harsh words echoed in the throne room the young prince turned and left, unheeding of his parents' furious shouts.
Distressed, the pharaoh lifted his head from his hands and opened his mouth to apologise, but no words would come from trembling lips. The stranger well noticed it, striding up to the throne in front of which he bent his knee and head in a polite but in no way submissive greeting, accompanying the gesture with words in the language of the Nile kingdom, although the foreign accent was noticeable.
"I greet you, King of Kehmet, in your son's stead, who I daresay impressed me by the marvellous quick-wittedness of his royal tongue. I greet you also, Queen of Kehmet, most beautiful woman of your whole land, for only your son surpasses you, who I may remark also inherited your scowl."
He looked up at the startled parents and an amused twinkle of laughter flickered in his eyes, before he continued to speak, changing his tone of voice to a low whisper.
"Do not frown for I am pleased with what I saw and I do not think I journeyed in vain. With your leave, my king, with your approval, my queen, Lord Wolfshade knows just the way to get what he wants."
While the blue-eyed stranger leaned closer to the royal couple to explain himself upon the king's demand he do so, Atemu was pacing in his chambers, attempting to will away his anger.
With a sigh he placed his hands on either side of the window facing the Nile and supported his weight on them watching the peasants work near the river. He wondered if he had deliberately meant to be so hurtful and why the white-skinned stranger had managed to arouse such a passionate fury in his heart. A marriage was not what he wanted and the needs of Kehmet did not mean anything to him. The only thing his soul truly longed for was travelling to foreign lands on his own. Smelling sweet scents of freedom in the air he leaned further out of the window.
A sudden knock of a guard's spear against his door brought him back from his mental flights to the stony ground of his chambers. He averted his eyes from the Nile to the door where his father stood, his face not a furious as Atemu had expected it to be. The old man began to speak quietly.
"You embarrassed me shamelessly today, my son. I know you will not feel the need to apologise. You know, my son, that the future of Kehmet depends on your marriage. I really do not care whom you marry, choose anyone you like. I will give you more time to search all the lands of the world, but at least try to find someone. You know that you are under no obligation to love your wife or husband, you could have hundreds of pleasure slaves and ten other wives or husbands, should that be your wish. Naturally your wife or husband will obtain the same rights. The marriage is a formality that is expected from you, being the duty of a pharaoh. Is that acceptable, Atemu?"
The young prince gave him a black look.
"It is not. I will not marry. Your fruitless efforts bore me tremendously, father."
The old pharaoh's eyes hardened to a shade just as icy as his voice.
"Very well. You will not get a choice in the matter. I have wasted enough time and anger on you. You will be given to the first person that comes to court tomorrow, heedless of who it is. Those are my words, Ra the Great will hold me to them."
A lazy snort was all that Atemu uttered as he returned his gaze to the Nile. He did not give his father's threat any more consideration being used to always getting away with his antics. His father had never made an attempt at punishing him before since that was usually reserved for his tutors, and he had learned how to evade those.
When the sun vanished bright red beyond the Nile and one after the other the stars were scattered all over the blue velvet night sky by the growing darkness, the prince's sleep was peaceful and undisturbed. And when he woke up in the morning the previous day's anger was forgotten along with the vow his father had made. Calling for his servants to help him dress in his royal attire he prepared for the daily morning routine which included him sitting in the throne room, watching his father and mother deal with brainless peasants and their humble requests and complaints. Fortunately for him his tutor, Shimon, would come to fetch him in an hour, when the sun passed the mountains on the other side of the Nile.
Entering the court room he noticed his parents already sitting there but missed the way his father's hands held onto the armrests of the throne, missed the tension in the face of his mother, until the old pharaoh quietly spoke to him.
"I see you dressed to impress the woman or man you will marry, my son. Are you prepared to meet them?"
It was not a question, rather a plea, a last desperate effort to make him renounce his decision and accept marriage, but Atemu dismissed it with an annoyed look at the ceiling.
"Father, this is downright ridiculo…"
The crack of stone interrupted him as two guards pulled open the heavy palace doors, allowing the beams of morning sunlight to trace patterns on the floor and momentarily blind the reigning couple and their son.
More guards approached, armed with spears, trying to keep the crowd from flooding the court room while upon the pharaoh's order the one who had been the first to arrive at the palace was lead in.
It was a dark haired man who sank down onto his knees gracefully when he came to stand in front of the throne, tall and agile, tanned and handsome but clad in rugs of a tunic that had once resembled the earth in its colour but was now grey from the dirt of many wandered streets.
On the pharaoh's cue the guard who had led the man in spoke up.
"His name is Seth, he is a nomad and cameleers, asking for a license to travel on Kehmet's roads and sell some of his camels. He claims they are a high quality breed and well-trained."
Silently, the ruler of Kehmet let his gaze drift over the kneeling man, as if trying to guess his character and sense of honour. Then he nodded curtly.
"You may speak, Seth, when you are asked. You came for a trade license? What I offer you is far more than that, I offer you my son as a husband. I vowed to give him to the first person to pass those doors today, and it was you the gods sent to us. Will you take him?"
Atemu's eyes widened a fraction, but his voice was still calm.
"Father..."
"The morning and evening star asks you, Seth, to take his most precious jewel with you. You may speak now, will you accept the offer?"
Slowly, the tall man lifted his head and his eyes were a striking blue shade, much like the Nile's ever moving waters in all their depth and mysterious glory. His voice resembled the river's current even more in its graceful flow, carrying a mixture of accents, marking him a traveller, one who called no place his home.
"I will."
The young prince pushed himself up, on his lips an accusing shout of disbelief.
"Father!"
However, the pharaoh ignored his son as he allowed Seth to get to his feet and started a conversation with him while the queen quietly ordered three of her servants to prepare a room for the future husband of her son.
Throughout the whole day the prince tried to get his father's attention but his complaints went unheard, his curses unheeded. Wedding plans were made that Atemu had no saying in and until shortly before nightfall the palace was made ready for the ceremony.
Facing the priest who was ordered to conjoin the pharaoh's son and the cameleers in marriage, the former looked at his mother for help, but she avoided his eyes, whereas his father gave him a stern look.
Thus Atemu found himself married and taking his leave from the palace and its inhabitants, since as the husband of a mere nomad he had no longer the right to call himself by the title of prince of Kehmet.
"Father…Mother…"
In a last, shuddering whisper he begged them to wake him up from this nightmare, but both of them averted their eyes, leaving him to his misery.
But when the former prince regretfully turned away and followed his husband with slow, hesitant steps, the eyes of the king and the queen of Kehmet met, a silent understanding passing between them, a flicker of hope.
Atemu did not see their shared moment. His eyes were cast down, at first to ensure his companion could not see his eyes glazed with unshed tears, but soon to avoid the looks he received from passer-bys or peasants, wondering how long it would take for the news and the laughter to spread all over the kingdom. The most beautiful prince the gods had ever sent to Kehmet's throne married to a nomad. Quietly, he asked Seth for a cape and hood to cover up his identity.
After a long day's tiring struggle on the hot sandy roads which they covered mostly unspeaking they put up a tent of linen and unrolled oriental carpets to sleep upon. Secretly Atemu dreaded the moment they would have to lie down. Soon enough the sky was fully darkening and Seth dislodged his long tunic in front of his royal husband whose eyes widened as he stared fascinated at the other's bare form, but then averted his gaze with a sudden blush.
Then, without so much as a glance at him, Seth went into the tent and gave him the privacy to undress before he followed uncomfortably, a deep frown on his face while he contemplated his chances in a fight. They were more than pathetic. Should his nomadic husband decide he wanted a wedding night with him, he was powerless to stop him.
However, when he pulled aside the linen to crawl into the wretched shelter, the other was already asleep, blankets laid out for him a decent distance away.
Atemu's first dream seemed vague, distant, at the edge of the unreal as he felt himself being carried by the winds over wide lands and deep waters. Due to the speed and the ever-changing surroundings, his head began to spin and grow light, but just when it became uncomfortable he noticed he was slowing down and looked ahead where there was a massive edifice of grey stone, shapeless compared to the palaces and temples of Kehmet, but inviting in the air of strength it radiated and gleaming in the setting sun's light.
Without a doubt he knew whose possession it was and in a half-waking state he gave a mournful whisper.
"Had I only taken Lord Wolfshade…"
The second dream showed more than the first as it allowed Atemu a first tentative look at a marvellous harbour with ships three times the size of those on the Nile, being prepared by pale-skinned sailors for journeys into all the known and unknown kingdoms of the Earth. Oh, how he longed to sail with one of them to see the new lands, to feel the salty wind on his tanned cheeks!
And again he knew the ships and the harbour to belong to him, as clearly as if his name had been written on them, making him heave another sigh of regret.
"Had I only taken Lord Wolfshade…"
When he fell asleep for the third time it was a large pool of still waters that he saw, almost black, but surrounded by huge plants, trees he realised with wonder, that, with an infinite variety of green colours, were reflected by the mirror-like surface.
And out of the thick bushes of whispering leaves he stepped, accompanied by his most faithful protectors, all dressed in green and black, a pack of wolf-like dogs surrounding them, howling like the jackals would at night and for a moment blue eyes locked with his and he felt like a wave was surging over him making his stomach leap at its force.
Then the scrutinizing gaze left him and all of sudden emptiness and longing washed over him and again his wistful words were mumbled into the night.
"Had I only taken Lord Wolfshade…"
The low cough of his husband startled him awake and his crimson eyes met annoyed blue ones as the first gentle beams of morning light crept through the linen tent. Seth's voice was husky and breathy with sleep, but had not lost its dark, floating tone.
"Do not forget you are married to me, Atemu. I do not like you talking about another all the time."
The smaller boy hung his head in defeat. There was no use in dreaming about something he would never see now that he had refused it so ungratefully. His musings were interrupted by Seth who demanded he help prepare a bowl of modest breakfast for the both of them. Atemu had never cooked before let alone kindled a fire and despite his efforts it was quite noticeable. With a look of disapproval Seth kneeled down next to him and showed him how it was done. Inwardly Atemu was seething with humiliation at not being capable of doing this himself but he let none of it show and due to being a fast learner had the fire crackling and glowing soon, ready for the cooking. Before the meal, though, the camels had to be fed, which was another thing the young boy had to learn.
This way a week of travelling in the desert passed, with conversation reduced to the absolutely necessary limit but with a mutual tolerance forming in the silence. In spite of his unhappiness and unwillingness to spend the rest of his life like this, the former prince of Kehmet had found a momentary peace within himself, in a strange and foreign way enjoying the company of the taciturn nomad.
But now they were nearing a city and a way to earn their living had to be found for camels did not always sell very well. Seth, who knew the supply and demand of the markets soon found a product that there could never be enough of, which were cheap baskets made from the thin, long leaves of date palms. He instructed Atemu on how to weave the leaves together to form the wickerwork before he went to the city centre where the merchants were praising their trade.
Atemu found himself on the banks of the river, staring up to where the large palms were swaying in the warm breeze. Finally he bit his lip and started to climb one of them. Halfway up the tree he was panting, feet and hands burning, sweat running down his back, but he refused to climb down until he had managed to cut off a reasonable number of leaves. However, the way back down to Earth was even more painful and difficult and even the weaving of the baskets proved a troublesome labour.
When Seth returned in the evening he found Atemu in despair, covered in dirt, his fingers blistered and his feet full of chafes, only one misshapen basket formed. The younger male refused to look at him, instead directing his gaze at the Nile to avoid the confrontation. With a sigh Seth wetted a linen cloth in the water and wiped the other's face clean, telling him he had sold enough camels for them to get by another week, enough time to find a new work for Atemu. Humiliated, the other boy did not answer, shoving Seth's hand away.
Indeed it did not take Seth a long time to form a new plan. At the next market his husband was going to sell earthenware jars which they themselves made out of clay and dried in sun and fire. The former prince agreed on the condition of being allowed to wear a tunic shielding him from the looks of nosy passer-bys that might know him to be the out-of-favour son of the pharaoh. He felt that this time everything would go well, wanting nothing more than to prove himself to his husband and regain his self-respect.
When the day came he made his way to the market with Seth and chose a place in the middle of the street for himself where he made certain every man's eye would turn to him. Then he laid out the jars and began to quietly sing a song he had learned in Kehmet's palace, a long time ago.
People on the street stopped to admire the young man, recognised to be beautiful despite the tunic covering his face partly, listening to his wistful, sad singing and rumours about his obscure origin spread quickly. Interest of the customers and the high quality of the ware made the jars sell smoothly and with every sold piece Atemu's mood lightened.
"Heeeyaaah!"
A loud shout suddenly interrupted the young man's peaceful singing and he turned his head towards the noise to see a sandy camel rounding the corner at a crazed pace, causing a cloud of dust and sand to lift from the street and hiding the crowds on both sides of it as the animal dashed forward. Atemu's scream was lost in the trampling of large, merciless hooves and the clang of shattered earthenware.
"No!"
But the camel did not stop and proceeded to race along the street when on its back Atemu could make out a tall, graceful rider who didn't even turn his head. Tears collected in the former prince's eyes and he was unable to stop them, even when the other people crowded around him, offering their help and support. What he needed was neither help nor support.
With dread he awaited the coming of his husband. Seth took the news calmly, eyes carefully scanning the crashed mess of ruined jars, probably measuring the loss they had suffered.
His silence was worse than any angry words he could have uttered, except maybe for the comment he made before he bent down to pick up the shards of clay.
"Once you have some market experience you will know better than sit in the middle of the street."
Blind with tears of helpless anger Atemu stood and walked away from the market.
He was furious with Seth, particularly because the taller man ignored his question concerning a new occupation for him. Furthermore he told the former prince it was time to buy a reasonable amount of new camels to increase the herd to its original number and refused to take him along since he planned to buy on one of Kehmet's cheaper but more criminal markets where Atemu could get into trouble.
The other would not have any of that but in the end had to concede, for Seth threatened to bring him back to the palace, which would have been the worst disgrace a prince of Kehmet had ever faced, surpassing even this marriage. Thus it was decided that in the next city a place for Atemu to stay would be found.
However, making their way over the long, sandy desert roads, they heard shouting and laughter and following the sound found a great camp put up around a small oasis. White tents had been raised beneath the palms shielding them from the harsh desert sun, the small breeze playing with their linen coverings. Many of them had foreign blue emblems stitched on them. Camels were resting in the shade, tended by tanned Egyptians, but the majority of the people in the camp seemed to be light skinned from what they saw from the distance.
When they went down for closer inspection, four blue-clad guards blocked their way and demanded to be told their intentions. They confirmed they had simply approached the camp out of curiosity, looking for someone to sell their camels to. After having to undergo some careful scrutinising by the guards, they were informed that a lord was staying here with his people for a week, before he would travel back to his homelands.
Seth threw a meaningful look at Atemu, and before the other had the time to complain or oppose the idea, his husband was already arranging his stay at the camp as a kitchen servant, hissing at him to be quiet since this was his chance to actually earn some money for them. The smaller boy refused to admit it but he was scared of being left alone in this camp of strangers. On the other hand the need to prove his independence and worth was stronger than ever and he was determined to make things work out well this time.
Yet, when Seth climbed onto the leading camel to journey on to the market, his small husband suddenly reached out for his hand and held it in his for the duration of a few tense heartbeats, then whispered a small goodbye and loosened his grip on the other.
Thus Atemu was introduced to the cook, a slim but intimidating man whose head was crowned with a mop of thick white hair that was just as untameable as the former prince's own. They called him Bakura and he had a high status among the servants of the lord, being by far the physically most attractive and also the strongest. Once he had been the fiercest warrior of all, but after a terrible injury he was now limping and, as the lord claimed, no longer fit for a fight, at least not at the moment. To spare him from the mockery upon returning to their home country, the lord had made him cook for the time being, since the old one had been killed recently.
Probably out of envy he enjoyed humiliating his new kitchen servant by making him fulfil the lowliest tasks. More than once Atemu had to bite his tongue to stop a curse or a malicious remark from slipping past his lips.
While Bakura knew at least some words in the tongue of Kehmet, most of the other inhabitants of the camp were unable to understand Atemu, much less converse with him. Although never badly treated, the young boy was as unhappy as could be, seeing that he did not have the chance to talk to anyone but a grumpy and jealous cook. With every passing day he missed his husband more and hoped his return would be swift.
On the fourth day of his stay, Atemu noticed the men all around him talk to each other with excitement and noticed they were wearing blue tunics with embroidered symbols similar to those on the tents. He decided to ask Bakura about it when they were chopping exotic fruits.
"Is today special to your people?"
Indeed he found out that a large celebration was about to take place that evening in honour of the lord and the one he was supposed to marry. While Bakura was talking Atemu could almost see the lights of the torches, could hear the music of pipes and lyres and the singing, could almost see the wonderful dishes laid out for everyone to eat, and he suddenly realised he could have had all of this had he not been so stubborn and arrogant and agreed to find someone to marry. Again the image of the pale blue-eyed man appeared in his mind and he remembered his dreams and wistful words.
"Had I only taken Lord Wolfshade"
When night fell over the camp and the torches were lit Atemu received the order to fill a leather pouch with dates from the palms near the middle of the camp and to prepare them with honey, which was the favourite dish of the lord's mysterious fiancé. Bakura himself would attend the celebration. On the one hand the former prince cursed this job as he himself had always loved dates with honey and his envy of Bakura who might get the chance to taste them was clearly noticeable, but on the other hand this gave him the possibility of sneaking a bit closer to the festivity and have a look.
Returning from the palms with his pouch carefully filled and slung over his shoulder, a wild foreign tune made him come closer and upon reaching the fire place of the camp he saw men dancing to it around a marvellous bonfire. In the centre there was a tall, young man, his robes a deep blue that seemed almost black in the firelight. He moved with such unearthly grace that Atemu felt himself being irresistibly drawn towards him, and he slowly moved forward.
The dance's steps seemed random at first but after taking a closer look a pattern could be noticed that was wild and delirious with its twists and turns, in a way resembling a fight more than anything else. Every now and then the tall man, who was instantly recognisable as the lord by his air of authority, would change partner, would dance with two or three people at once, rhythm changing with the tune but never the speed of the movements. Mesmerized, Atemu took another step towards them.
Suddenly he noticed the flash of familiar white hair next to him and almost at the same second the crowd moving closer as the lord took Bakura's hand and invited him to a slower dance, undoubtedly chosen because of the white-haired man's injury. As he watched them dance, Atemu noticed the beauty of Bakura's dance partner, the long graceful legs, the wild brown hair, crowned with a headdress of silver and sapphires, the skin glowing red from the firelight. Again, he stepped closer.
Then, before he had the chance to reconsider his boldness, someone grabbed his hand and drew him into the circle and as the tune increased in speed at the same moment, the lord turned away from Bakura and all of a sudden Atemu found familiar blue eyes boring into his. All his instincts told him to run as fast as possible but the other's gaze held him paralysed and his legs would not move.
It was too late. A pale hand closed around his and he was pulled forward, stumbling into the dance, his widened eyes never leaving the other man's calm ones. The rhythm left him blind to everything and everyone around him and as Lord Wolfshade spun him around he lost his rational thought along with his hesitance, imitating the other's steps with natural grace.
But just as he jumped into the air like the lord's men all around him, he heard the terrible sound of fabric being torn. The linen sling holding his leather pouch was ripped apart as the small bag swung in the air, and a shower of dates dropped onto the ground, scattering the delicious fruit all over the clay soil.
The music stopped and after a tense moment of absolute silence laughter erupted like thunder, maliciously loud to Atemu's ears as he stood frozen, mouth opened in shock. Laughter filled his ear, laughing faces his sight, and he felt himself blush furiously, tears of frustration rising in his eyes. He did not waste a second but started to run, driven by the single thought of escaping and never coming back to be reminded of this greatest humiliation of his whole life.
Suddenly there were strong arms wrapping around his waist, effectively stopping his flight. Atemu let out a harsh breath as he struggled to escape. He could feel someone breathe onto his neck before a deep seductive voice whispered into his ear.
"Stay with me."
And then the same voice continued to the other men, so commanding that it cut off all sound but for the crackling of the fire.
"Stop laughing. This is nothing to laugh about. In fact everyone who dares to laugh at my husband is sure to be left behind in Kehmet's desert on his own when we all move on to our homelands."
Atemu's eyes widened and he turned around to look into the blue eyes of the lord, holding him, a warm smile on his face as he spoke quietly to him.
"Do not fear, Atemu, prince of Kehmet, for that is what you shall be called again from now on, given that your husband is of lordly blood and worthy of someone as beautiful and high as you. Indeed, do not fear for I am no stranger. I am Seth, the nomad, whom you married in front of your father's throne. But I am also the camel rider on the market who destroyed your earthenware. I am the one you called Lord Wolfshade, and this name I will keep forever and carry with pride in honour of you, my beloved. But my real name is Seto, lord of a large kingdom far north of your homelands, over the sea. I apologise for playing with you like this, but I did it all for you, so you would fall in love with me and consider me worth your attention."
Kneeling down in front of Atemu, Seto bowed his head, and kissed the prince's hand, while the other stared down at him for a long minute. In Seto's downcast face he now recognised the features of Seth as well as the grace of the camel rider. For a minute he felt nothing but anger at being deceived in this fashion, then embarrassment at himself for failing to see the deceit. Yet, with every second he watched the other kneeling in front of him as a sign of submission, with every time the apologetic words echoed in his ears, he felt the anger vanish to make room for a new emotion. He took a deep breath and murmured.
"Indeed, Lord Wolfshade, you seem to be worth my attention, since you tried so hard to earn it. I might forgive you if you get up now and fulfil your duty as a husband to show me and everyone else you really mean it."
A smirk was evident in Lord Seto's eyes as he stood and took Atemu's face into his gentle hands, leaning down and tenderly brushing their lips together, over and over again, until Atemu's eyes were closed and he was trembling with longing for more. Cheering and shouting could be heard all around them as they began to kiss in earnest, wrapped in each other's arms.
"And then they lived happily ever after?"
"You know I do not like that line, my little imp. Life is never happy ever after. What do you think will the old pharaoh say about his son wanting to leave Kehmet to go with Seto and journey the world to his heart's content? He might have agreed to Seto's plan but this is not what he wanted, is it?
How do you think will Atemu feel all alone in a foreign country? Do you not think he would get homesick after some time?
And who would reign Kehmet?"
"But Auntie! They are in love! They will find a way! They might live in Seto's land for a year and then return to Kehmet. Or they might find someone else to become pharaoh. You spoil every good fairy tale! Grandma Ella always says it!"
"You little imp! Hush now, lest your mum will hear you and find out you are still awake. Will you finally sleep if I say it?"
"I will, honest!"
"Alright. Well, my little imp….I guess they lived happily ever after."