DISCLAIMER: I don't won 'Yu-gi-oh!' or its characters. I just like to
torture them (especially Jou). Don't sue me.
WARNINGS: This fic will contain yaoi, (maybe) violence, and……… other things. If you don't like, don't read!
AN: This is an AU fic taking place in Ancient Rome. Please excuse my complete butchering of the Latin language. (Maybe if Latin class wasn't so DREADFULLY BORING then I'd be able to pay attention for more than just the first five minutes. ¬.¬) I also 'lost' my Latin textbooks in an unfortunate accident (XD) so the words are probably screwed up as they were plucked from my memory, which on average is only about 18% reliable. Anyways, I try to stick to historical facts but, I had to alter a few things for the sake of this fanfiction. Most things will be historically accurate, however. Oh, and this is the only chapter in which Latin will be used. -^^- I'm not really sure where this fic is going or if it'll be continued, and the main reason I started writing it was to take a break from "Good Enough For Me". But ENJOY ANYWAYS!!! ^-^
The boy in the story IS Jou, in case anyone didn't know.
*****
The boy's eyes drifted to the heavy wooden door ahead of him, one of the many obstructions standing in the way of his freedom. The hushed footsteps behind the wearisome barrier were the only indication of the liberated world turning and thriving beyond his depressing little corner of the universe.
He had long ago decided that this was his personal Hell, tailored exclusively for him with the measurement of all his fears and nightmares.
Yes, that's the best way to describe his current situation. Hell.
He was dirty, tired, starving, cold, and could not move from the uncomfortable position he placed in due to the shackles that bound his wrists and ankles.
Not that any of it mattered. Not anymore. Not now, not since……… Not since………
The golden-haired youth tried to push the thoughts out of memory as he leaned his head against the damp stone wall, silently spilling the familiar tears that had already been shed many times before.
How cruel must fate be?
More angry tears trekked down the curve of his cheeks and down to the cliff of his jaw, finally taking the suicidal jump that landed them splattered and dead on the torn brown tunic he was clothed in.
There was nothing left to live for, he decided conclusively. He should just give up; offer his body to Death, who was always eager to take new, desperate souls into its clutches. That would be the easiest thing to do.
But he didn't want to do what was easiest, what would require the least work- that wasn't his character. He wanted to do what was RIGHT.
So, there was something to live for.
He would live for revenge. It seemed to be the only thing that could satiate his growing hunger for justice, the sort that could never be provided by petty things such as laws or governments.
Yes, he decided with finality. There were people who hurt his friends, family, and countless other individuals, and they all must be avenged. And he was the one who would do it.
He did not know how, or when, or if he was even capable of doing it, but he had the determination and that was good enough for him. (At least for now.)
A continuous scraping noise brought his attention back to the door and away from the rancorous thoughts that were slowly gnawing their way into the core of his being.
The scratching sound lasted for a few more seconds before the door was finally pushed open, allowing a guard to enter into the cell.
The boy stiffened when the guard crouched next to him, carelessly jerking his sore, cuffed hands towards his chest. The guard moved a set of keys up to the cuffs, and with a few flicks and turns of his wrists the boy's arms were freed from their iron constraints. The same treatment was done to his ankles, and for the first time in days the boy was able to move the numbingly weightless, aching joints on his own.
The guard picked the shackles from the floor and stepped back to appraise the new blonde-haired merchandise seated at his feet.
This certainly was a valuable one.
He would bring in at least 1,500 denarii's (1) at the auction, if not more. Young and able-bodied, the boy would have no problems doing slave work in the fields. And depending on the state of his health in the future, he had a good 10-15 years of hard labor ahead of him.
Because of his well-built form and young age he would be a dear asset to any farm or household.
Another valuable trait that the boy possessed was that not only was he fit and strong, but he was also undeniably beautiful. Being a foreigner, he had soft, golden hair and a pale complexion, a rarity in this part of the empire. That alone upped his value a good 500 denarii's.
The guard allowed his eyes to trace the contours of the pretty face, shamelessly admiring the delicate curves of the cheekbones and the long lashes that curtained the iridescent brown orbs embedded beneath. The soft features added a touch of grace to his face that bordered the lines of androgyny.
The corners of the guard's lips twitched into a lewd smirk.
There were many patricians (2) who would gladly buy this boy for other, more enjoyable purposes besides slave labor, the guard mused. Even now, dirty and living off the last supplies of his energy, he displayed a brilliant vivacity- a soft aura of purity.
The guard quickly caught himself in his blunder. The boy was far from innocent. He recalled the day when they first brought him in, a week ago. He was thrashing around wildly and desperately in the arms of his captors, hopelessly grabbing at any chance he could get of breaking free and escaping the captivity he had been thrown into.
The "innocent" boy even gave him a bloody nose, he recalled bitterly. Even now the boy was not afraid to make eye contact, staring up at him with a glare full of such hate and loathing that it would cause anyone having no previous experience in slave dealings to shrink back in fear.
The feisty youth had a rebellious nature in him that wasn't about to be tamed.
That could pose a problem. No respectable landowner in all of Rome would put up with a mouthy, disobedient servant.
It was nothing that couldn't be taken care of, however. The boy would soon be put in his place, whether he liked it or not.
The guard silently wondered how long it would take the boy to finally break and transform into the subservient, shattered doll that his good looks would eventually force him to become.
The guard realized he had been lost in thought, and promptly refocused his attention back to the task at hand.
The guard allowed himself to indulge one last time as he roamed his eyes unreservedly over the boy's body. He wouldn't mind owning the boy, he wouldn't mind breaking him. There was always such a rush of power when you know that YOU stripped a person of all their hopes and dreams, that YOU disassembled them into something mindless, something not quite human, that they belong completely and utterly to YOU.
Alas, he would never be able to afford this boy.
With a longing sigh he grabbed to boy and hauled him to his feet, intending on dragging him to the appointed destination.
As was to be expected, the boy immediately started struggling weakly against the guard, his strength almost completely depleted.
After a while the boy became dead weight, apparently exhausted by his hopeless effort.
The guard adjusted his hold on the boy as he carried him up the stone stairs and walked outside into the peristylium. He then let go of the boy, who immediately collapsed onto the ground.
This one was different than all the rest, the guard thought. He had a certain determination that vanished in most slaves when their freedom was taken. It a rare trait to see.
He even started to feel pity for the boy. It was a shame that this vibrant youth's life was doomed to a sad, irrefutable servitude.
Again, the guard thought he was idly wasting his time when there was a job he had to do.
His work here was done. With a quick turn of his heel he left, silently wishing the boy luck in whatever was to come his way.
The boy angrily lifted himself to his feet and dusted off his tunic, furiously glaring at the retreating figure.
Was he being left here? The thought of being abandoned in a foreign place made him panic.
………Where exactly was he, anyways?
He turned around, still a little unsteadily, and inspected his surroundings, breath caught in his throat. The awe and wonder produced by what he saw acted as a sedative against any feelings of alarm and anger he had previously.
He was standing at the edge of a luscious green garden, full of large- leafed plants and peppered with exotic flowers that he had never seen before. A few scattered benches lined the tiled path around the flora, placed strategically for someone who might want to spend a longer time sitting and admiring the vegetation. The scene was complete with the smooth white columns that bordered the area, contrasting elegantly with the exquisite greenery in the middle.
The boy had seen nothing like it before.
The boy started towards the garden, wanting to explore the unfamiliar area with ancient curiosity- a quality that was injected into first human being and passed down ever since without prejudice, inflicting the young and old alike.
As he was about to take a second step, he felt a pair of hands seize him by the arms. Before he knew what was happening, his hands were tied behind his back and he was being dragged to the courtyard just beyond the garden.
Bewildered and a bit dazed, he allowed himself to be positioned in the middle of the tiled ground as two men dressed in dark blue tunics flitted eagerly around him like agitated bees.
The boy recognized the men from when he was first captured, and he resignedly realized that these men owned him now.
One of the men hectically kept on touching him in areas he saw fit, poking him, raising his arms up and back down, tilting his head backwards, rearranging his hair, etc- looking for any faults that might depreciate his value on the market. He seemed to be reporting on the status of the slave to the other man who stood back, standing idly with a look of incurable boredom on his face that he didn't bother to hide.
Though the boy did not understand the foreign tongue spoken, from the tone of their voices he deduced that they were in the middle of a heated argument.
Something finally grabbed the other man's attention and he stormed up to the young slave, shoving the other man away and grabbing the boy's chin in his grubby fingers. He tilted it up for a better view, inspecting his face as if he were searching fine-spun imported Chinese silk for the slightest flaws.
"Est Pulcherimus, (3)" He commented after a moment, not taking his eyes of the boy.
To that, the first man answered, "Vere. Cogito dimittere grammatico potissimus. Si sciret linguam latinam, magis pendebitur (4)."
The other man seemed to be in deep thought, before nodding his head, "Ita vero. (5)" He let go of the boy and joined his companion at the side.
The men continued to speak, but to the foreign boy, the words were nothing more than hard syllables beating against his eardrums. The boy gave up trying to understand what was being said and opted for trying to regain his dignity. Though he was still being examined acutely, the boy jutted out his chin proudly, refusing to give in to the power that these men apparently had in deciding his future.
The men finally ceased their conversation and went back to their neglected slave. They led him out into a nearby road where a carriage stood ready for them. The two slave traders loaded the boy into the cart before they themselves sat down next to him. The driver started the horses, and they made their way down the crudely paved road.
The bumps and snags in the road had a hypnotizing effect on the boy, and he found his eyes shutting closed, mind drifting into a pleasant, dark abyss. Before sleep completely overtook the youth, he heard a name uttered by one of the slave-traders- a name that stirred in him a familiarity that he could not place.
'Kaiba………' And with that, the boy fell into a peaceful unconsciousness.
*****
(1)- The denarius was a silver coin used as currency in Ancient Rome. The average middle-class citizen earned about 20-30 denarii's a month. The average price of a slave was 400-600 denarii's, so you can tell that Jou was veeery expensive for his time ^_~.
(2)- Patricians were the highest social class in Roman society. They were usually part of the Senate, and were very wealthy and powerful. They pretty much ruled over the government and could do anything they wanted without having to worry about abiding by the law. (They were probably the only ones who could actually afford a 1,500 denarii slave.)
(3,4,5) Though my Latin vocabulary isn't very extensive, I tried to make this conversation work. ^^;; Basically, they slave traders decided that they would send Jou to a school to learn Latin (and therefore 'invest' in him) for a greater profit. That's the jist of it. ^^
*****
Anyone confused? I know I am. O.o;; But the prologue IS supposed to raise a ton of questions that will be (hopefully) answered later on. Sorry for my long descriptions and stuff. I know it takes me a while to get to the point, and I'm reeeeeally slow at writing, and even slower at updating. ^^;; I have the next chapter sorta planned out, and some more action will be taking place (if I continue). I dunno, I kinda like this chapter, and I kinda don't. :/ So, I give it a 2/5 based on personal satisfaction. Can anyone point out the 2 historical inaccuracies? ^^ (I tried my best to blend them into the plot .) Oh, and I know that neither 'Jou' nor 'Kaiba', nor any other of the characters' names are Roman, but……… just pretend! . It would be too confusing to change them. ^^;; Anyways, please tell me what you think! I luv reviews! -^^-
WARNINGS: This fic will contain yaoi, (maybe) violence, and……… other things. If you don't like, don't read!
AN: This is an AU fic taking place in Ancient Rome. Please excuse my complete butchering of the Latin language. (Maybe if Latin class wasn't so DREADFULLY BORING then I'd be able to pay attention for more than just the first five minutes. ¬.¬) I also 'lost' my Latin textbooks in an unfortunate accident (XD) so the words are probably screwed up as they were plucked from my memory, which on average is only about 18% reliable. Anyways, I try to stick to historical facts but, I had to alter a few things for the sake of this fanfiction. Most things will be historically accurate, however. Oh, and this is the only chapter in which Latin will be used. -^^- I'm not really sure where this fic is going or if it'll be continued, and the main reason I started writing it was to take a break from "Good Enough For Me". But ENJOY ANYWAYS!!! ^-^
The boy in the story IS Jou, in case anyone didn't know.
*****
The boy's eyes drifted to the heavy wooden door ahead of him, one of the many obstructions standing in the way of his freedom. The hushed footsteps behind the wearisome barrier were the only indication of the liberated world turning and thriving beyond his depressing little corner of the universe.
He had long ago decided that this was his personal Hell, tailored exclusively for him with the measurement of all his fears and nightmares.
Yes, that's the best way to describe his current situation. Hell.
He was dirty, tired, starving, cold, and could not move from the uncomfortable position he placed in due to the shackles that bound his wrists and ankles.
Not that any of it mattered. Not anymore. Not now, not since……… Not since………
The golden-haired youth tried to push the thoughts out of memory as he leaned his head against the damp stone wall, silently spilling the familiar tears that had already been shed many times before.
How cruel must fate be?
More angry tears trekked down the curve of his cheeks and down to the cliff of his jaw, finally taking the suicidal jump that landed them splattered and dead on the torn brown tunic he was clothed in.
There was nothing left to live for, he decided conclusively. He should just give up; offer his body to Death, who was always eager to take new, desperate souls into its clutches. That would be the easiest thing to do.
But he didn't want to do what was easiest, what would require the least work- that wasn't his character. He wanted to do what was RIGHT.
So, there was something to live for.
He would live for revenge. It seemed to be the only thing that could satiate his growing hunger for justice, the sort that could never be provided by petty things such as laws or governments.
Yes, he decided with finality. There were people who hurt his friends, family, and countless other individuals, and they all must be avenged. And he was the one who would do it.
He did not know how, or when, or if he was even capable of doing it, but he had the determination and that was good enough for him. (At least for now.)
A continuous scraping noise brought his attention back to the door and away from the rancorous thoughts that were slowly gnawing their way into the core of his being.
The scratching sound lasted for a few more seconds before the door was finally pushed open, allowing a guard to enter into the cell.
The boy stiffened when the guard crouched next to him, carelessly jerking his sore, cuffed hands towards his chest. The guard moved a set of keys up to the cuffs, and with a few flicks and turns of his wrists the boy's arms were freed from their iron constraints. The same treatment was done to his ankles, and for the first time in days the boy was able to move the numbingly weightless, aching joints on his own.
The guard picked the shackles from the floor and stepped back to appraise the new blonde-haired merchandise seated at his feet.
This certainly was a valuable one.
He would bring in at least 1,500 denarii's (1) at the auction, if not more. Young and able-bodied, the boy would have no problems doing slave work in the fields. And depending on the state of his health in the future, he had a good 10-15 years of hard labor ahead of him.
Because of his well-built form and young age he would be a dear asset to any farm or household.
Another valuable trait that the boy possessed was that not only was he fit and strong, but he was also undeniably beautiful. Being a foreigner, he had soft, golden hair and a pale complexion, a rarity in this part of the empire. That alone upped his value a good 500 denarii's.
The guard allowed his eyes to trace the contours of the pretty face, shamelessly admiring the delicate curves of the cheekbones and the long lashes that curtained the iridescent brown orbs embedded beneath. The soft features added a touch of grace to his face that bordered the lines of androgyny.
The corners of the guard's lips twitched into a lewd smirk.
There were many patricians (2) who would gladly buy this boy for other, more enjoyable purposes besides slave labor, the guard mused. Even now, dirty and living off the last supplies of his energy, he displayed a brilliant vivacity- a soft aura of purity.
The guard quickly caught himself in his blunder. The boy was far from innocent. He recalled the day when they first brought him in, a week ago. He was thrashing around wildly and desperately in the arms of his captors, hopelessly grabbing at any chance he could get of breaking free and escaping the captivity he had been thrown into.
The "innocent" boy even gave him a bloody nose, he recalled bitterly. Even now the boy was not afraid to make eye contact, staring up at him with a glare full of such hate and loathing that it would cause anyone having no previous experience in slave dealings to shrink back in fear.
The feisty youth had a rebellious nature in him that wasn't about to be tamed.
That could pose a problem. No respectable landowner in all of Rome would put up with a mouthy, disobedient servant.
It was nothing that couldn't be taken care of, however. The boy would soon be put in his place, whether he liked it or not.
The guard silently wondered how long it would take the boy to finally break and transform into the subservient, shattered doll that his good looks would eventually force him to become.
The guard realized he had been lost in thought, and promptly refocused his attention back to the task at hand.
The guard allowed himself to indulge one last time as he roamed his eyes unreservedly over the boy's body. He wouldn't mind owning the boy, he wouldn't mind breaking him. There was always such a rush of power when you know that YOU stripped a person of all their hopes and dreams, that YOU disassembled them into something mindless, something not quite human, that they belong completely and utterly to YOU.
Alas, he would never be able to afford this boy.
With a longing sigh he grabbed to boy and hauled him to his feet, intending on dragging him to the appointed destination.
As was to be expected, the boy immediately started struggling weakly against the guard, his strength almost completely depleted.
After a while the boy became dead weight, apparently exhausted by his hopeless effort.
The guard adjusted his hold on the boy as he carried him up the stone stairs and walked outside into the peristylium. He then let go of the boy, who immediately collapsed onto the ground.
This one was different than all the rest, the guard thought. He had a certain determination that vanished in most slaves when their freedom was taken. It a rare trait to see.
He even started to feel pity for the boy. It was a shame that this vibrant youth's life was doomed to a sad, irrefutable servitude.
Again, the guard thought he was idly wasting his time when there was a job he had to do.
His work here was done. With a quick turn of his heel he left, silently wishing the boy luck in whatever was to come his way.
The boy angrily lifted himself to his feet and dusted off his tunic, furiously glaring at the retreating figure.
Was he being left here? The thought of being abandoned in a foreign place made him panic.
………Where exactly was he, anyways?
He turned around, still a little unsteadily, and inspected his surroundings, breath caught in his throat. The awe and wonder produced by what he saw acted as a sedative against any feelings of alarm and anger he had previously.
He was standing at the edge of a luscious green garden, full of large- leafed plants and peppered with exotic flowers that he had never seen before. A few scattered benches lined the tiled path around the flora, placed strategically for someone who might want to spend a longer time sitting and admiring the vegetation. The scene was complete with the smooth white columns that bordered the area, contrasting elegantly with the exquisite greenery in the middle.
The boy had seen nothing like it before.
The boy started towards the garden, wanting to explore the unfamiliar area with ancient curiosity- a quality that was injected into first human being and passed down ever since without prejudice, inflicting the young and old alike.
As he was about to take a second step, he felt a pair of hands seize him by the arms. Before he knew what was happening, his hands were tied behind his back and he was being dragged to the courtyard just beyond the garden.
Bewildered and a bit dazed, he allowed himself to be positioned in the middle of the tiled ground as two men dressed in dark blue tunics flitted eagerly around him like agitated bees.
The boy recognized the men from when he was first captured, and he resignedly realized that these men owned him now.
One of the men hectically kept on touching him in areas he saw fit, poking him, raising his arms up and back down, tilting his head backwards, rearranging his hair, etc- looking for any faults that might depreciate his value on the market. He seemed to be reporting on the status of the slave to the other man who stood back, standing idly with a look of incurable boredom on his face that he didn't bother to hide.
Though the boy did not understand the foreign tongue spoken, from the tone of their voices he deduced that they were in the middle of a heated argument.
Something finally grabbed the other man's attention and he stormed up to the young slave, shoving the other man away and grabbing the boy's chin in his grubby fingers. He tilted it up for a better view, inspecting his face as if he were searching fine-spun imported Chinese silk for the slightest flaws.
"Est Pulcherimus, (3)" He commented after a moment, not taking his eyes of the boy.
To that, the first man answered, "Vere. Cogito dimittere grammatico potissimus. Si sciret linguam latinam, magis pendebitur (4)."
The other man seemed to be in deep thought, before nodding his head, "Ita vero. (5)" He let go of the boy and joined his companion at the side.
The men continued to speak, but to the foreign boy, the words were nothing more than hard syllables beating against his eardrums. The boy gave up trying to understand what was being said and opted for trying to regain his dignity. Though he was still being examined acutely, the boy jutted out his chin proudly, refusing to give in to the power that these men apparently had in deciding his future.
The men finally ceased their conversation and went back to their neglected slave. They led him out into a nearby road where a carriage stood ready for them. The two slave traders loaded the boy into the cart before they themselves sat down next to him. The driver started the horses, and they made their way down the crudely paved road.
The bumps and snags in the road had a hypnotizing effect on the boy, and he found his eyes shutting closed, mind drifting into a pleasant, dark abyss. Before sleep completely overtook the youth, he heard a name uttered by one of the slave-traders- a name that stirred in him a familiarity that he could not place.
'Kaiba………' And with that, the boy fell into a peaceful unconsciousness.
*****
(1)- The denarius was a silver coin used as currency in Ancient Rome. The average middle-class citizen earned about 20-30 denarii's a month. The average price of a slave was 400-600 denarii's, so you can tell that Jou was veeery expensive for his time ^_~.
(2)- Patricians were the highest social class in Roman society. They were usually part of the Senate, and were very wealthy and powerful. They pretty much ruled over the government and could do anything they wanted without having to worry about abiding by the law. (They were probably the only ones who could actually afford a 1,500 denarii slave.)
(3,4,5) Though my Latin vocabulary isn't very extensive, I tried to make this conversation work. ^^;; Basically, they slave traders decided that they would send Jou to a school to learn Latin (and therefore 'invest' in him) for a greater profit. That's the jist of it. ^^
*****
Anyone confused? I know I am. O.o;; But the prologue IS supposed to raise a ton of questions that will be (hopefully) answered later on. Sorry for my long descriptions and stuff. I know it takes me a while to get to the point, and I'm reeeeeally slow at writing, and even slower at updating. ^^;; I have the next chapter sorta planned out, and some more action will be taking place (if I continue). I dunno, I kinda like this chapter, and I kinda don't. :/ So, I give it a 2/5 based on personal satisfaction. Can anyone point out the 2 historical inaccuracies? ^^ (I tried my best to blend them into the plot .) Oh, and I know that neither 'Jou' nor 'Kaiba', nor any other of the characters' names are Roman, but……… just pretend! . It would be too confusing to change them. ^^;; Anyways, please tell me what you think! I luv reviews! -^^-