Warning: YAOI which is MxM. Flames will be ignored.
Pairing: SethxAtemu, AtemuxMoswen (the equivalent of Ancient!Yuugi)
Disclaimer: YGO is not mine. I make no money of fanficcing this.
Background: First in a trilogy.
Dedication: To whoever sends dreams. And the hot myth teacher. ^_~

The Betrayal

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He had meant to find Atemu – to ask him to go walking in the gardens… Had meant to engage him in conversation of something academic, do something that wasn't physical, for once.
Atemu always returned to his chambers after bathing. Seth had gone to change out of his own ruined ceremonial robes, replacing them with an exact duplicate. Atemu liked to tease him about always dressing the same way – his response had always been the same: that there was a tailor out there, somewhere, in love with the palace coffers.
It didn't matter. He had walked to the prince's rooms, and been frozen at the door. Not by the sight of the prince with another person, but from where Atemu was. Not over the other's body. Not even underneath with his partner impaled – no. Truly subordinate, panting and moaning as the small form of another male possessed him.
He watched, open mouthed in surprise. Atemu's body began to shake, the male above him half-growling.
He waited, expecting the prince to roll over at any minute – reverse the situations and finish himself in his partner's body.
Waited.
Waited.
But Atemu didn't make any move towards that, mewling like a kitten as his back arched. The other male collapsed on him, then, and Seth felt something like a choked sob force its way out of his throat.
He ran.
But he could hear Atemu's soft footfalls chasing behind him.
He didn't want to see the prince, didn't want to deal with his insufferable royal self. Was it even possible to want someone more? Was it possible to hate them more?
His indecision reflected in his speed – Atemu was catching him. Granted, he wasn't the foot-racer the prince was, but with longer legs, he should have had some sort of advantage.
Atemu's hand closed around his wrist, stopping his headlong charge into nowhere. Seth turned, pulling his hand back, the cool and collected part in the back of his head noting that the prince had had the intelligence to put a hip wrap on, at least.
To hide the marks of claiming.
Seth pulled back from the prince, shaking his head and refusing to meet Atemu's eyes.
"Seth!" His name stopped him, yanking him backwards like a dog on a tether cut too short.
He could feel himself shaking all over, wondering what in hell's name had happened to him.
Do the gods hate me so?
"Seth – " Atemu's voice was soothing, his crimson eyes less so. Pits of fire in an unnaturally perfect face.
Seth blinked and looked away.
"Were you looking for me?"
Was he going to simply pretend nothing had happened? Mute, not trusting his voice to words, Seth nodded.
A pair of arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer to the sweaty body of the prince. His sharp nose could smell the heady scent of sex and betrayal. Atemu didn't seem to notice his affront.
"It wasn't what it looked like," the prince whispered to him, his low voice forcing calm over Seth's high strung body, even as his mind shrieked in protest.
At last he managed a semblance of voice. "Of course it was," he raggedly breathed. "He was on top of you."
It seemed like such a silly thing to say – of course he'd been on top – but his mind decided it had to be pointed out. The wrongs of the world could be instantly righted if only he'd seen incorrectly.
He waited, expecting Atemu to deny it and prove that he had seen wrong – that his memory was incorrect. He waited for his failings to be pointed out and for the twisted chuckle of taunting laughter that was at once so infuriating and so comforting.
It never came.
Atemu exhaled slowly. "Seth…" He seemed at a complete loss for words. "He's the boy you left for me. The slave."
What did that have to do with anything?
Cautious in his agreement, Seth nodded. It was beside the point that he hadn't recognized that small detail. Being preoccupied with his – the – prince being possessed had been rather forefront in his mind, after all.
The prince's whole demeanor seemed defeated, asking for sustaining comfort of some sort.
He couldn't help but answer that need, despite how much he felt like he should be loathing Atemu and his actions. Seth tugged on his arm.
"It seems we both have things to say. We can talk in the gardens."
Atemu's nod seemed weary. His red eyes were faded crimson, no longer the vicious pools of living fire but more a set of infected sores, leaking blood that was too red.
"Let's go."

The gardens were not overly large, but they were ornate and there were benches scattered around, as well as stone walls that were supposed to be part of the scenery. Atemu had chosen a section of one of the walls and laid himself out on it, still oozing unconscious sex appeal as Seth sought his own resting place. Nearby.
On the same wall.
Inches away from Atemu.
"May I ask just why you were playing ewe today?" Seth inquired, glad when his voice did not display emotion.
Atemu sat up abruptly, his face contorted with some kind of pain.
Seth reached out to him, unsure of what exactly to do. Atemu's physicality had everything to do with sex. He wasn't sure what the reaction to physical comfort would be.
His hand rested gently on the prince's shoulder. Atemu turned into him and clutched at his robes, trembling.
"Atemu?"
"Gods…Seth, I – I…" He trailed off sounding so broken, looking up to meet Seth's eyes.
"What is it, Atemu?" The protective instinct arose in him. Had that – thing – done something to hurt his prince? "What did he do?"
Atemu laughed. It sounded like someone was choking a songbird. "He didn't do anything."
"Then what is it?" He was impatient now, wondering what had gotten so badly into the prince that Atemu looked like he was going to break down.
Crimson eyes drifted shut. So softly, Atemu whispered, "Seth – I raped him."

He was startled, perhaps more than he should have been. Atemu had always enjoyed being rough – his back bore enough evidence to support that claim.
But being rough and actually forcing someone – that was an entirely different animal altogether.
"You couldn't have," Seth pointed out, trying to be reasonable. "He was on top of you." That proved he hadn't done that. Atemu had been on the bottom.
But the prince was shaking his head, pupils dilating madly against the sun. "No – the first night. When you were studying. That's when I did it." He was shaking even more. Seth wondered if he was going to rattle himself apart.
"Then why was he still there?"
"He was too afraid to leave." Atemu's gaze latched onto his.
"Why would he be afraid?" It didn't make sense to Seth. That servant – that slave – must have done something terrible to make Atemu feel like this. It made the blood begin to boil in his veins. His prince would not rape someone.
Atemu half-laughed, half-coughed. "You didn't see his eyes." His own eyes closed, and the grimace on his face told Seth he was reliving whatever it was he'd done. "I killed something in him."
"He's your slave to kill," Seth pointed out, trying to be reasonable. By all laws, it was true. The whole of Egypt – everything from the silt in the Nile and the smallest grains of desert sand to the harvest and the lives of the citizenry belonged to the royal family.
Judging from the violent shaking of his head, Atemu didn't see things quite the same way.
"He hadn't been touched before. I hurt him." No tears, but a dizzying sense of self-hate that was more difficult to deal with than tears would have been.
Crimson blazed. "You remember the advisor father had when he invaded Nubia. The one who wanted to kill all the civilians – even the children." Atemu sat up straighter and pulled back a bit from Seth. "Father said 'I do not make war on children.' You remember that, don't you?"
Wordless, Seth nodded. He did remember.
"Well, I won't kill part of one and let myself get away with it," the prince snarled.
Seth watched as Atemu fled, disappearing further into the gardens.

The prince's room was empty. There wasn't even a stain on the floor to mark what had transpired there. He frowned and withdrew from the room, wondering where that slave had gotten to.
"Seth?" It was Atemu. The prince was back in his haughty glory. "Is something wrong?"
Seth shook his head slightly. "I was looking for the boy."
Atemu frowned. "He's down in the bathing halls. Why?"
"How much does he know about the Rite?"
The prince's confusion melted into understanding. "He doesn't even know who I am."
"How do you know he doesn't?"
A funny half-smile flickered over the prince's face. The far-away look in his eyes bothered Seth immensely, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out just why. It did. That was all.
"Well?"
"Well what?"
Seth frowned. "How do you know he doesn't know you're the prince and what the Rite means?"
Atemu shook his head. "You're not a very trusting person, are you, Seth?"
If anything, I'm too trusting. I trusted you.
"You didn't answer my question."
"He knows about the Rite – everyone does and you know that, or you would if you bothered to pull you head out of your books for longer than it took to get off." A familiar taunt.
"So how is it he doesn't know you're the prince?"
Atemu glared. "Are you incapable of taking my word on it?" he snapped.
Seth scowled back. "Since I spend all my time in my books, I can supply you with quite a few examples of what has happened to kings who let commoners rule them."
"He's not a commoner!"
"You're right." He paused, staring down at the prince, before a vicious smirk twisted his lips. "He's a slave."
Deliberately hurtful, the words had the desired effect of rendering Atemu speechless. The silence gave Seth enough time to brush by the prince, refusing to cast a backward glance over his shoulder.
He headed for the bathing rooms, intending to finish this twisted triangle.
One of them had to go, and it wasn't going to be him.
That only left one choice.

The bathing halls were empty.
Where is he?
Atemu had said he would be here, hadn't he?
The door opened and Seth hid himself as best as he could among the linens.
It was not the slave. Just a servant.
The servant placed a tray down on the floor and knelt, beginning to scrub at the tiles.
Bile rose in Seth's throat. A servant cleaning – he'd taken that upon himself so many times. Had Atemu been with that slave here?
Anger and other disjointed emotions he had no name for careened around in his head. He stood up, coming out from his hiding place crouched behind the linens. The servant took no notice of him, even as he walked out.
Seth narrowed his eyes.
He wouldn't have this slave intruding on his prince. He would find him. If necessary, he would kill him.
But first, he had to find him.

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Author's Note: Honestly, I was a little nervous about having Atemu be so freaked out about having raped Yuugi/Moswen. (And having him do it in the first place, as well.) I wasn't sure how well that fit with the character I'd written for him, but then I remembered he was getting a little protective, and even being a whore/slut (Rayemoon's rather accurate description) he's still got a conscience of sorts.
Seth's mad at Yuugi/Moswen so he's calling him 'slave', just to put him down further in his own mind. All the other slaves are still 'servant' to him, though. Just to keep ya'll in my circle.
Crapola that's short! *dies*
Well, I had written out the first two chapters by hand, so they got the attention they sorely deserved. This one though… Well, actually, truth be told, this was supposed to be a first person POV chapter and the final one in the fic. I'll post the other chapter (which is a million pages shorter than even this one) as a separate ending, because that's how I had it planned out, but then my imagination ran off with me. XD
Blame the birds. They made me do it. And I wanted more reviews too. I'm a review hog. =)