Soaring Over Nile

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh

Egyptian names & meanings
amuenet (derived from 'amunet' meaning mystery)
omorose (beautiful)
shemei (desire)
halyma (gentle)
hamadi (praised)

Chapter One- The Gathering

The carvings on two heavy bronze doors glinted faintly as they swung open to admit a young boy about the age of fifteen.

Guards, dressed in simple linen skirts and head coverings, bowed respectfully to the boy as he walked past them, across the huge room, its walls decorated with elaborate pictures and paintings. The carvings of the sandstone pillars melted into the shade of sandy gold; only the shadows outlining the carvings gave any clues as to what the characters were. The boy, ignoring the paintings, stopped only to kneel in front of a golden throne, placed at the back of the room on a raised platform.

"You called for me Father?"

The Pharaoh of Egypt surveyed his son solemnly from his seat, a frown on his lined face, his hands holding his crook and flail stiffly in position. There seemed to be a long pause before his mouth moved, at least to the boy. "Atem, you are aware of the festival taking place at the palace in a few days, are you not?"

"Yes Father," Atem replied, his head still bowed; his voice was rough, with a lingering echo of childhood soprano, and betrayed no emotion.

The Pharaoh sighed, discreetly eyeing his son with a speculative eye, taking in his son's small build. "You will know, then, you are supposed to choose a bride there."

It was there the boy looked up, his golden earrings jangling loudly. The Pharaoh's dark grey eyes met with startled amethyst irises and a second of wordless communication passed between them.

"Father, I-"

"It cannot wait!" The Pharaoh said, his deep voice cutting off his son's protest, "I am old and there is no way you can become Pharaoh unless you have found a wife! You have no siblings to keep the line completely pure. You are my only heir, Atem."

Seeing his son's mouth open up, perhaps to muster another protest, the Pharaoh glared at Atem sternly, "I am being beyond fair. There will be many eligible girls; the daughters of the wealthiest Nobles in Egypt and members of my imakhu. Do not make this difficult for me, my son."

The boy on the floor remained silent and unmoving, his head bowed once again.

"You may choose your own bride Atem. Just choose is all I ask," the Pharaoh concluded, sighing again, his brow furrowed, "I will see to it that she agrees. I predict many would jump at this chance of monarchy…but it is the first time we have married outside our family."

"Father, can it not wait two more years?" Atem argued, his tone respectful…and persuasive, "Surely you will not die so soon. I have merely completed a tiny fraction of my education. I am not completely ready to get married yet."

The Pharaoh was silent, pondering this suggestion. He looked at his son, kneeling on the floor, his boyish and even scrawny figure still painfully obvious, even under the purple cape that billowed out behind him. As a man who valued education over many things, the Pharaoh himself was more than eager to ensure his son was well educated. Atem was certainly old enough to have a wife but to rule the country? The crease between his brows deepened as the Pharaoh thought things over. The five Priests standing in two lines on either side of the Pharaoh peered down, surveying the Crown Prince as the silence stretched longer.

"Please Father…" Atem begged, cutting the thoughtful silence that had lingered over the hall; even the guards had fallen silent and were listening intently, "A few more years? Just until I have furthered my studies…?"

"Very well Atem," the old Pharaoh consented reluctantly, "I will grant you some more time to improve your education. However, I require you to have carefully considered the prospects during the upcoming festival."

Meanwhile, in the southern end of Egypt…

"I am not going!" The resolute voice rang sharply throughout the white, marbled halls of a large villa near the Nile.

"Amuenet!" Servants winced as an even louder voice followed the first. The voice of the master of the house was impossible not to recognise. "You are going whether you like it or not! That is an order!"

A young servant within the inner rooms of the villa closed his eyes and bowed his head, unwilling to be a witness to the argument brewing before him. The master of the house had been laying in his reclining chair as the maids fanned him on a hot autumn morning but he was sitting upright now, his hands balled into tight fists. The important member of the Pharaoh's imakhu, kind at his best but generally presumptuous and vain but, the servant concluded, could really work himself into a temper.

The girl kneeling on the floor was, thankfully, not staring at the servant. Having been on the receiving end of the glare only once before, the servant wasn't willing to recall the experience, but he had to admit there was no denying the familial resemblance in the two people before him. She was dressed in a simple linen tunic with her dark hair loose around her shoulders, a reminder of her young age. The master's long, thick beard was flecked with bits of grey but it still made up a fearsome picture, coupled with the cold fury etched in every line of his rigid face.

-
It had been that way-ever since her mother had died.

Amuenet pictured her mother's smiling face and warm, brown eyes; the broad, kindly face and delicate neck and collarbone and the long, shining hair that cascaded out in gentle waves. The same thoughts always returned to her head, like a bee to a flower, whenever she thought of her mother – her father. She felt fury opening up wounds and the same screaming litany she longed to put a voice to. It was Father's fault. It was all Father's fault! It was Father-

"Amuenet! Are you listening?"

Her father's voice was angry – angrier than usual. Had she been a servant, she would be close to being executed right at this moment. Thankfully, though probably closer to a servant than she would have liked in this household, Amuenet was still the daughter of Noble Hamadi of Lower Egypt. Whether she liked it or not that was.

"You are a member of my family and you shall be going to the Pharaoh's Gathering in Upper Egypt. Do you hear me?"

The calculating part of Amuenet's mind, tuned to the various degrees of her father's threatening tone since early childhood, figured her father was very close to calling the guards on her. Her hands, covered by her dress, tightened as she took in his blazing eyes and the rigid line of his mouth.

"Amuenet! Do I have an answer?"

Seeing the two guards near her father's side take a few discreet steps forward, Amuenet rose quickly, feeling the hem of her tunic whip at her legs. Every fibre of her body tensed as she saw the movements of the guards at the corners of her eyes.

"I refuse to," Amuenet said coldly, matching her father's blazing eyes with her own dark irises. Noble Hamadi's hands went up in a silent command and the guards lunged forward. One guard lunged for the small girl and she sprang aside, backing swiftly away from him. She sensed a movement behind her and cursed mentally. The other guard, more cunning than his companion, had managed to get behind her and grabbed roughly at her arm.

Amuenet twisted around, scrabbling at the guard's arms with her fingernails, throwing a kick at the first guard who was rushing up toward them. Feeling her foot connect with something soft and a grunt, she drew her hand into a fist and punched at the guard who was holding her with all her strength. The grip on her arm loosened and she wrenched her arm away.

Jumping aside from the two guards, she sprang out the door into the cool evening, hearing the shouts of the guards die away. Wincing, she felt a throbbing bruise start to develop on her arm and a tugging sensation at her knee. Stopping briefly, Amuenet realised she had a few cuts on her legs – probably when she had fallen on the ground.

Biting back the pain, Amuenet ran for it. Dodging some servants and maids, who were staring, wide-eyed, she made her way back to her chamber near the garden of the villa, hoping fervently her father would not send guards over there as well.

0000000

The Noble of Lower Egypt watched his daughter run out the door, anger abruptly giving away to weariness. Sighing, he took a seat, calling the two guards back. For such a skinny girl, she had actually dealt a little pain to both of the burly men. Rubbing his temples, Hamadi reclined back into his chair, calling for some wine. His daughter Amuenet, self-righteous and stubborn, was always running away from discipline. Even her name, spelt differently from the conventional Amunet, both meant and was a mystery in itself.

Amuenet was a strange one, unexplainable. Hamadi could not figure out why she had not enjoyed playing with the little toys her sisters had enjoyed. He could not explain why she had, upon finishing her education, asked to learn combat with her brothers. He had thought she had been placated when he agreed to allow her to observe the guards training and her two brothers when they had lessons; it had certainly kept her quiet for the better part of the last three years.

Amuenet had always had a sharp tongue but even Hamadi could detect the change in her voice now – it was not merely a child's annoyance but contained a cold hint of an adult's words. She hated him.

Noble Hamadi's mind wandered back to his first wife, Akila and to the five years since her last breath. Amuenet had been Akila's only child. Upon Akila's death and, try as he did to comfort her; Amuenet had pulled away from his helping hand. First Amuenet had been miserable and then came the period of silence before the inexplicable bouts of fury and hatred at the slightest things.

Now, Amuenet was fifteen and beyond ready to be married. Hamadi couldn't help comparing her physique to those of his other daughters – she seemed merely a child and in no way ready to bear children. He did not relish the idea of marrying her off ort the difficult task of convincing her. She hated him and whatever he wished for her to do and the hatred at slowly grown and multiplied until it had spread to just about everyone in the family.

She had never been a sweet child like his other children but she had not been this defiant, angry, closed-off young girl who had stood before him.

"Would you like us to follow after her, my lord?" one of Hamadi's guards asked, bowing respectfully. Noticing the faint bruise on the guard's cheek, Noble Hamadi shook his head, pushing the thought of Amuenet back from his mind. He would deal with her later.

0000000

"You are lucky this is not deep Amuenet," a servant girl remarked as she cleansed the scrapes with some water and papyrus reeds. She tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ears and dipped the cloth in water.

Amuenet snorted in disgust, looking away, despite addressing the girl. "It doesn't hurt at all. You don't need to go to all the trouble, Halyma."

Halyma smiled secretly to herself. This was typical of Amuenet, always keeping her pride in check. Seeing her mistress wince, Halyma dabbed the wound gently with some more water. "It is almost done Amuenet. I will just apply-"

"Well, look who has decided to return!" a high, fluttering voice interrupted Halyma's words. Amuenet looked up automatically toward the doorway as Halyma fell silent. Two girls stood at the doorway to the chamber, dressed in colourful silks, jewellery glinting off their arms and ears in the dim candlelight. Amuenet rolled her eyes inwardly as she recognised her two half-sisters, Omorose and Shemei.

"What do you two want?" Amuenet asked, regarding the two sisters warily.

Omorose, the eldest of the three girls, was the one who had spoken and she strutted into the chamber, not missing a chance to give her bright red veil a flick. Omorose's brown eyes were focused coldly at her younger half-sister. Being the eldest, even if it were only three years, Omorose had always considered herself above Amuenet and treated her as such. Amuenet returned the dislike with interest.

"We wanted to see how badly you had been beaten by Father," Shemei piped up from behind Omorose pleasantly. She was wearing a bright blue veil, her ears adorned with heavy golden jewellery and eyes smeared heavily with kohl. Though only a few months older than Amuenet, Shemei always looked older than she was when she put on the expensive jewellery she was given.

"You are in for disappointment," Amuenet replied coldly. She had never been on good terms with her half-sisters – they were vain, bossy and vapid girls. It didn't help that Shemei was considered extremely beautiful in the area and had received proposals from distinguished men in the region. It made the girl egotistical on top of her other bad traits.

"What can be so horrible about the annual gathering in Upper Egypt that you have to complain to father about?" Omorose continued, raising a finely painted eyebrow at Amuenet. "Surely you still know how to talk to people right?"

"No, no, I hear the Prince of Egypt will be attending for the first time," Shemei interrupted, "and that he is of marriageable age now. Perhaps Amuenet is too afraid to meet him in person!"

The two girls collapsed in giggles.

Amuenet rolled her eyes. "You two really think you have a chance with the Prince?" she asked, mirroring their disdainful tones. Though if the Prince is as vapid as the rumours say, he might end up falling in love with Shemei, a tiny part of her brain added. She forced back a groan at the prospect.

"A better chance than you have the least," Shemei countered her half-sister, smiling with the self-confidence that came from constant praise. "Perhaps you consider me a rival for the Prince's affections?"

The two girls collapsed into more raucous giggles.

Amuenet felt a blaze of indignation. They thought she was interested in the Prince? The very idea that she could somehow resemble the two girls giggling before her was offensive. "I will not even entertain the notion I could somehow have something in common with you…you common tavern wrenches," she snarled icily.

The giggles were abruptly cut short. Omorose glared at Amuenet, her laughter vanishing. "Watch your tongue Amuenet. You have no authority to speak to me that way. If you dare to again, I shall tell father."

She signalled for Shemei and the two strode out of Amuenet's chamber haughtily, traces of their perfume lingering in the air. Hearing their dying footsteps, Amuenet gave an audible groaned and sat back down on the bed.

Halyma glanced at her mistress in sympathy. It was true Amuenet was not interested in associating with any other people her age, especially young men but Halyma believed her mistress was just as capable of loving as anyone else.

Upon first glance, Amuenet was as ordinary looking as a commoner, from her tanned skin to the simple white linen tunic she favoured. A closer glance revealed the inbred nobility in Amuenet's language and mannerisms, however much the girl tried to hide it. Having known Amuenet for most of her life, however, Halyma was well aware of Amuenet's unconventional beauty, having inherited her mother's thoughtful, intelligent eyes and thick black hair. It was the closed-off, contemptuous mask and the suspicious edge in her voice that everyone noticed first.

Halyma recalled being brought into Noble Hamadi's family at the age of six, sold by parents who could no longer support her, bound and treated like dirt as all servants were. Amuenet's mother had saved her from a hard beating after she had spilt a bowl of soup over the Noble's sandals. As she prepared her mistress' bed and combed out Amuenet's long hair, Halyma recalled being first introduced to Amuenet, many years ago…

The older maid took her to the wide door of the playroom. Her heart was pounding and she gripped her rough tunic, biting her lip. Halyma stepped inside, looking at the maid who gave her a nod and left. She was now alone. Taking a look around, Halyma's eyes widened. The room was magnificent – decorated in colourful woven rugs with wooden toys she had never seen scattered on the floor. The woven cot in the corner of the room was the largest one Halyma had ever seen!

"Hello," a high, clear child's voice spoke from the cot. Halyma looked toward the cot, meeting the eyes of a small girl sitting on the cot. Immediately, she bowed as a sign of respect. The little girl slipped off the cot and walked toward Halyma. She couldn't help noticing the girl was so much shorter than she was.

"Good morning Miss Amuenet," Halyma said, speaking the words she had been taught. "M-My name is Halyma. I'm to be your new servant."

"Miss Amuenet?" Amuenet giggled. "That's so funny - no one calls me that. Call me Amuenet okay? How old are you? I've just turned five!" She held up one hand, her tiny fingers outstretched.

Halyma felt a small smile creep up on her face. "I am ten summers old."

Blowing the candle out, Halyma let her eyes adjust to the darkness. She heard the familiar sound of Amuenet's breathing as her mistress drifted off to sleep. Even in sleep, the frown on Amuenet's face was illuminated by the moonlight shining through the small window. Halyma gazed at Amuenet's face sadly, remembering when the expression had first appeared into her mistress' life.

"Mother!" Halyma grabbed the ten-year-old Amuenet's arms, her own heart heavy with grief. The doors to the Mistress' chambers were closed and it seemed Amuenet's anguished calls were not reaching the people inside…

The woman lying on the bed made no sound or movement and neither did the little figure kneeling at her bedside. Halyma approached tentatively, hearing the sobs of the older maids who were standing by the door. As she knelt slowly by Amuenet's side, Halyma took in the face of Noble Hamadi's first wife.

Her face still looked kind and peaceful with a small smile still on its features but it bore no resemblance to the youth Halyma had grown to associate with the woman. The skin was ashen and bloodless, making the dark hair pooled around her even darker. The eyelids were closed…closed and would never open anymore.

Halyma looked away, feeling her own tears prick at her eyes. She put an arm around Amuenet's shoulders, feeling her flinch slightly at the contact. Amuenet looked up, her face streaked with tears, eyes searching Halyma's for some kind of explanation.

"Why Halyma?" she asked, voice hoarse and soft. "Why did she have to go?"

Halyma shook my head, unsure of what to say. Her own mother had died in childbirth giving birth to her and her cold stepmother had been all she had known. Amuenet's mother had been the only mother she had ever really known. "Would you like some more time alone Amuenet?" Halyma whispered. Amuenet nodded her head weakly.

Bowing her head, Halyma backed out of the room; saying a silent prayer for Lady Akila and feeling her own tears run down her face. She thought she heart a small whisper before she shut the door – something that sounded like, "Father…"

Amuenet emerged from her mother's room as a different person; a caterpillar spinning its cocoon. Even to Halyma, Amuenet began to change, growing constantly unhappy and locked up. Only Halyma sensed the hate that radiated from Amuenet every time she saw her father, the slowly increasing distrust. It was obvious Amuenet blamed her father for her mother's death.

Amuenet was unhappy, as unhappy as a bird locked in a cage. Halyma could see that, but a lowly servant was not expected to help her mistress in personal affairs and Amuenet tried to hide it as best as she could in Halyma's presence. Halyma could only watch sadly for five years as the young, vibrant girl she used to know disappeared into a cold, empty shell.

One could only hope she turns back…while she still has time…

Halyma knew her mistress's only desire was freedom. Sadly, freedom to a Noble's daughter was like waiting for rain in the desert. She would never have freedom as the daughter of Noble Hamadi and in the life she was destined for.

Sighing, Halyma lay down in her small cot, looking at the moonlight shining through the window shafts, lost in her own memories…

A/N: Well, well, well, doesn't this look familiar? Hello everyone, it's been awhile. As you may have noticed, this is Soaring over Nile Version 2! This was not predicted. I started editing Chapter One purely as a reflection exercise - to see how much I could improve the story and it got quite out of hand. I'll have to be honest with you - I was not thirteen as I said when I started writing SoN - I was twelve and in Year Six (Sixth Grade) when I started.

I'm actually fifteen now and, for the fun of it (and for my conscience at seeing such vague/crappy writing), I'm attempting to re-edit and rewrite Soaring over Nile! As you may have noticed, this version is longer. I wrote SoN as a "movie" so I was very very vague about certain details because they made sense in my head! No details are necessary! I'm changing bits to make them less cliche/depressing/Mary-Sue/OOC as Fluffy'sMate17 and other reviewers suggested.

I have to warn you - this revamped version will take a long time to complete - I'm terribly erratic with my writing so I will have bursts of inspiration and then months of hiatus. Sorry in advance. No guarantees I can finish this at all or even if it'll be very good (YuGiOh itself kind of ignored Ancient Egypt "canon" so it's hard to write). I'm sorry if this seems excessive, especially since I've not finished any of my other chapter fanfics, but I was honestly not expecting to return to this account so this is kind of kicking a dead horse. Sorry again. Like I said - a writing exercise!

I would just like to thank the anonymous reviewer Queen Lyria for her two amazing reviews - I'm sorry I can't reply to them because I could ramble for ages about them. I do wish you could review Luck for me because it is closer to my current style but your reviews were really wonderful. I'm really flattered you think so highly of my writing (I certainly don't right now!). About your suggestions to turn it into a novel - my obsessive phase with Ancient Egypt has passed now but I am writing original fiction now that may see the light of day sometime.

Eh. This has been as long as the chapter itself. Thank you for reading if you did!