Tategami
By Citrus Luver
A/N: Finally, the prequel to Kame. Ever wondered what Atemu's days as Pharaoh were like? What made him become the accursed king that is he remembered for? How he became imprisoned in the doll that Yuugi cherished so dearly? Finally, Tategami will shield light on the strange ending to Kame. Like with Kame, this fic will also have an animal title. Tategami means lion in Japanese. Japanese names will be used to fit in with the rest of the trilogy and because I haven't watched the dub in over a year. -.-
Also this fic will have shonen-ai (boyXboy love). Please use good judgment if you are not comfortable with shonen-ai pairings. I do NOT want to any flames about the fact the characters are gay. . Although for the time being, I will keep the pairings a secret.
As of now this fic will only have six chapters, but I'm clueless about their lengths. Some could be as long as some of Kame's chapters while others may be much shorter. Also this and Fenikkusu (the sequel) will be posted at the same time.
Disclaimer: No own Yu-gi-oh!
Summary:A young Prince who is lost in a kingdom plagued by war and death and a peasant boy who is gifted with great magic, both are lost in time and alone, yet slowly they dream, a dangerous dream which is taboo to the Gods...
Chapter 1
Ketsuzen
The blazing hot sun, the fiery hot sand and the lush tropic breeze blew through the palace garden. A lush field of green grass, a tall fruit bearing tree, and in the heart of the grounds a large artificial pond with hundreds of lotus blossoms floated in the water. Sitting on a corner of the pond, a young boy, about eight years of age with a dark tanned chest and a small white free flowing kilt, glazed into the distance. He had the most peculiar mash of tricolor color and a pair of stunning deep red violet eyes.
A stray tear traced the contours of the boy's face. He quickly rubbed him away. His eyes were redder than normal. He had seen them play. Everyone got to play games in their spare time. He wanted to play too. He even wanted to play ball with the palace servants, but they always looked at him scared. When they did allow him to join, they always fumbled with their words or dropped the ball.
"Prince! Prince!"
The boy cringed. He hated those words. It was would made him feel so alone all his life. He sighed before slowly standing up.
A young man around twenty appeared. He was dragging a beautiful white foal behind him. He seemed aspirated. "Prince! There you are! It's time for your riding lesson."
The boy frowned, a little annoyed when the other stuffed the rope attached to his foal in his hands. "Must we?"
"Yes, Prince! The Pharaoh will be most unpleased if you skip. Horse riding is a very important skill in times of war." The man scolded.
"I hate war." The boy stated simply. The foal whined as if agreeing with his master. The other looked at him a little sympathetically. It was a common reaction he frequently experienced. The boy prince knew he was an ideologist. He dreamt of a world without war, without conflict. He wanted peace in a time when thieves, murderers, and raiders roamed the land.
"War is a part of life, Prince, and so is riding. It's important for…"
"For every pharaoh to be a good rider," the prince finished. "I know, I know. You tell me every day."
The tutor sighed. It was a daily battle with the young prince. "You should care more, Prince."
"Why? It's stupid. Everything is stupid. I'll be king someday. I don't need to know everything. When I'm king, everyone will have to listen to whatever I say anyways," the prince added arrogantly.
"You aren't king yet, young prince. You have to learn to ride. The pharaoh's word is law." The tutor nodded towards the practice track. The prince sighed. He hated it. He hated everything. He hated Kemet. He hated the palace, and everything it resembled.
As the prince led his horse to the practice track, he gritted his teeth but held his head high. His earlier thoughts completely vanished from his thoughts. His tutor followed closely behind.
Like all eight year boys, the young prince held his pride dearly. Ever since his fifth birthday, every midsummer's afternoon the palace held a tournament. The tournament was not only to find able soldiers but also for the royalty to show their skills. The pharaoh, the priests, and the even the prince would partake in the festivities in horse racing, archery, and sword fighting. Only on that one rare occasion, did the young prince try. In that one afternoon, he showed his kingdom his true skills. In that one afternoon people could not say he was lazy. His father would always smile and nod at his tutors, for he believed it was they who taught the prince his skills. While in truth the young prince was blessed with them innately.
Night slowly fell in the palace. The young prince leaned against his balcony overlooked a neighboring village. The faint fires from the village were still twinkling. The prince could barely make out the faint traces of people moving around the roads. The prince sighed. He pushed back a piece of his blonde bangs before collapsing on the stone railing.
"Life sucks," he muttered. "I hate this place. I hate it!" He growled. The weight of his tiara felt imprisoning. He hated wearing it, but his father insisted when traveling guests visited from a far. He yanked the gold headdress from his mass of black and red hair. The rubies and emeralds glistened mockingly back at him. It was a strange, accursed irony.
Nobody saw him for who he was, and nobody tried. No one saw him as anything but the future pharaoh. He was nothing more a living god. Nothing else about him mattered. Nobody cared about what he liked, what he hated, and what he cherished. In the people's view he was like a one dimensional character in a children's novel. He sat the tiara on the balcony and stared at it and the hidden meanings that were behind it.
"I want to escape. Gods, I want to escape this life."
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Slowly, time progressed.
And the boy prince lost his naivety. After his ninth birthday, the prince's father allowed him to attend the council meetings with his priests and advisors. The prince saw the wars that his father raged to protect the kingdom. The imposing laws he had to place on lawbreakers. And slowly the boy prince began to understand that peace was impossible. His utopian society where there was everlasting peace was an impossible reality.
Yet that afternoon, as the prince walked to the meeting hall from a sword fighting lesson, the palace seemed deathly quiet. Even the servants were muttering softly to one another, the air seem thick.
"Prince!"
The boy turned. He narrowed his eyes. It was his father's high priest Akunadin. The boy never liked Akunadin. There was something strange and distant about the old man.
"Priest Akunadin," the boy stated simply. The two never broke eye contact.
"Pharaoh wanted me tell you. The council meeting will be postponed. You are free for the rest of the day." The boy's eyes narrowed as a strange smile crossed Akunadin's face. It was a strange, sinister look.
The priest placed a hand on the boy's shoulders. The prince's eyes widened. It was a strange touch. One he had rarely ever felt beside from his mother. It almost felt… loving. "Don't run off Prince. Today is a joyous day."
The prince blinked. He watched Akunadin lightly bow to him before retreating.
"Joyous day?"
The prince watched the high priest disappear around the corner before the prince sprinted off into the distance. He left the palace doors to head for the corrals where the horses were kept. In the far distance the young prince could identify the 'pyramids' that held the pharaoh and priests' ka and spirit monsters. The boy shivered seeing them so still now. They normally gave off a bright gold tone. At night, he could even feel them pulsating. The boy knew that someday the center and largest of all the pyramids would house his own ka and spirit monsters, and the others would belong to his own most trusted six priests.
That was one thing the boy prince looked forward to that on his twelfth birthday he would begin his spirit and magic training. He would learn to conjure and bind monsters to do his bidding.
As he walked over to corrals, he wondered who his magic tutor would be. He knew that his father's advisors were already doing mock trials for his tutor. Whoever the person would be, they had to possess one of the greatest amounts of spiritual power in the kingdom. Yet, secretly he hoped it would be someone who cared for who he was, not who he was born to be. The boy prince knew it was tall order, but in his heart that was his one true wish.
Upon seeing his foal, the prince forgot his troubles. The young horse was a birthday present, and would someday be his war stallion. The foal immediately let out a happy neigh upon seeing his master. The prince grinned as he pulled out a lump of sugar. Immediately the foal pounced over to his master allowing the young prince to mount.
The young prince lost track of time and day. He couldn't remember how long he stayed with his horse before being rudely interrupted by a frantic servant. "Prince!" The servant immediately fell to his feet. The prince frowned as he returned his horse to the stable.
"Yes."
"Prince, your majesty requests your presence in the throne room." The servant fumbled with his words. He dared not look up at his master.
The prince blinked, confused. Seeing the cowering servant, the prince decided to not question such a strange request. He immediately ran to the throne room. Yet upon entering the palace doors, the palace seemed unearthly quiet. The guards seemed subdued. The servants all had their heads bowed. The prince bit his lips. He waited for the pair of guards to pull open the throne room doors. It was ghostly empty. He had never seen it so empty. The prince blinked. He could barely make out the form on the throne. It was hunched over and subdued, a ghostly figure.
"Father," the prince called. The man on the throne immediately looked up. He watched his young ten year old son and future heir walk to his side.
"A servant said you were looking for me, Father."
The pharaoh nodded. He slowly rose. Only then did the young prince realize how much his father had aged. The prince's eyes widened as the king pulled him into a tight hug. He felt his body go rigid. It was a strange feeling. It was almost taboo. His father never hugged him much less showed any signs of affection towards him. The king slowly pulled away, yet he did not move away. He let out a tired sigh before gliding his son to the throne.
"My son, you look away from me." The king lightly creased the boy's cheeks. "Have I failed you too my son?"
"Father?" The prince blinked. His red violet eyes widened. "What are you talking about?"
The pharaoh sighed. He glazed down at his son's confused face. The boy looked up. His head tilted to the side. His blonde bangs covered the left side of his face. The boy seemed so young standing there.
"My son, I fear. Your mother is with the gods now." The prince looked up, confused.
"Mother? With the gods? What do you mean?" The red in his eyes slowly disappeared into a wisp of smoke.
"My son, she's gone. Her time here is over."
"Mother… is …" The prince looked away. He felt his body temperature dip. The harsh realization slowly crashed down. He understood, yet he couldn't accept it. "No! No!" The child let out a painful screamed. He felt tears transcend his eyes. He ran out the throne room, ignoring his father's cries. Everything made sense now. Why the soldiers and servants were so subdued. He crashed through the palace halls, knocking over pottery and bumping into servants. Nobody stopped him, and nobody dared. For once, the boy was thankful for his position in power.
Mere minutes later, the young prince stopped at the doorway of the infirmary. The holy scents still covered the room. He felt his breath hitch. The priests and the burial guards were already gathered preparing for the mummification. The room was dark. A nearly burnt out candle was the only source of light in the room. It cast long, subdued shadows on the walls.
Yet the prince noticed none of it. He only saw the beautiful, pale body of a young woman in her late twenties lying on the bed. Her hands were collapsed over her breast. A wilted lotus blossom was clasped in her hands. He bowed his head as he slowly advanced. He trembled. She looked so beautiful and at peace with the world. The boy prince collapsed onto the floor. He buried his face into the nock of his mother's neck. Unlike the many times before, she would not awake to comfort him. Instead, she would forever sleep on.
The guards chose not to remove the young prince. Instead they left the young child to mourn the death of his mother. It was long hours later after the boy had cried himself to sleep that he was removed from the dead queen's side.
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It would be days later after the body was sent to the valley of the queens did the prince learn from a young mage in training, Mahado, how his mother had died. It was in childbirth. She had bled herself to death. The heal could do nothing to save neither her nor the unborn child. The fact, that his parents had desired another child after so long, left a burning aftertaste in the boy's mouth.
That night and many nights afterwards, it still hurt. He felt as if a piece of his heart had been ripped out of his body. He hadn't only lost his mother, but he had lost someone who saw him more than just a prince but as a person. As he lay in bed clutching his covers, memories of his mother filled his mind.
He remembered her beautiful voice. When he was younger and sick, at night after the priests left, she would come to his room and sit by his side. She would take his burning hot hand and sing him to sleep.
He remembered his first riding lesson. She had been there to encourage him and make him forget his fears.
He remembered the first time he lost a swordfight. She was only one who didn't sympathize. Instead she simply creased his face and said, "There are wins and losses, as important as wins are, losses help us grow."
The prince couldn't help but wonder how losing his mother would help him grow. It just seemed so unfair. She was young and strong. Healthy people don't die, Mahado told him so.
XXXXXXXXXXXX
Slowly time went on in the palace. The days were no longer bright instead the stench of death covered to fill the palace walls. The love and comfort that the empire's lovely queen gave off seemed to completely vanish.
The prince watched as his father, the pharaoh, slowly far apart. He noticed the minor chances in his father. No longer was the elder king vibrant. Instead he looked like the next day would be his last.
And the prince knew the priests and advisors were worried about his father and his sanity.
Ra had risen over the palace walls once again. A long council meeting on the dealings with the border villages had concluded. It was a long and tedious meeting. The prince still had a dazed look over his face when his father excused him and the rest of the priests. Yet, as he left the conference room, he noticed that Shimon had stayed behind.
The prince, curious, lingered behind.
"Pharaoh," Shimon twisted the sides of his robe. Both men seemed not to notice that the prince had not left the room
"Shimon," the pharaoh acknowledged. His face still hovered over the scrolls.
"Pharaoh, I do not wish to impose, but…" Shimon sighed. He glanced around the room as if he feared being overheard. The prince ducked behind a plant. He narrowed his eyes. He always had a suspicion Shimon knew more than he let out.
"Get on with it," the pharaoh growled.
"It's about the future… the prince."
"What about my son? He will be the heir, the next pharaoh when I am gone." The pharaoh snapped.
"I know, Pharaoh. The other priests and advisors we have been considering… marriage."
"Marriage?" the pharaoh narrowed his eyes. The prince felt his jaw fall open. He knew that day would come, the day when he would be forced to find a wife. The boy shivered at the thought. He never loved a woman besides his mother.
"Yes, marriage, with the empire so unstable, the prince should find his wife soon."
The pharaoh sighed. He rubbed his beard. A sad, lonely look creased his face. "Yes, yes. That is the best. We will hold a ball soon. The princesses from our neighboring countries will be invited."
"Thank you Pharaoh." Shimon nodded. He looked over at his pharaoh and sighed. Shimon knew even now, the death of his wife still affected the elder man. He felt sorry for his old friend. The two had been friends since they were children. "Pharaoh…" Shimon stopped and held back his words. It wasn't his place to speak, and it burned. He left the room… leaving only the pharaoh hunched over his desk, and the prince hidden behind a plant.
The prince watched his father's feeble form. The pharaoh was spinning a feather between his fingers. He looked as if he had aged so much just a few moments. Yet, Atemu could not feel sorry for his father. He glanced at the door. Shimon's words drowned through his heart.
The young prince knew. Marriage was ultimate. He could never escape after he became betrothed.
Slowly, as the prince walked back to his chambers, a dazed look on his face, a small plan began to take form in his head. A plan formed that would allow him to escape his duty as prince, a role that he hated.
That night, by a darkness of a new moon, the prince scaled the palace walls and disappeared into the night.
TBC
A/N: What do you guys think? Feedback please?