Kitty- Hola! This fic is really long… so I can't finish it without
encouragement (aka reviews) I don't care if you tell me it sucks
Gaddo- But if you do, We'll tell you yours suck
Kitty- Sure… I don't own Yu-gi-oh. But I wrote this story just the same.
Gaddo- Have fun!
Chapter 1
Take My Hand
~`The Nile`~
The Mother A Hebrew mother ran along the bank of the Nile River, clutching a bundle to her chest. Her breath was ragged, her black hair a tangled mess. The bundle in her arms was whining softly as she ran, the bouncing around making sleep impossible. The woman glanced down at her baby, whose round face was wet with tears of discomfort. She had to fight back her own tears as she ran on and on. The Child Little hands clutched the blanket, as everything rushed past. The baby had had no rest the night before, for her mother had been running then, too. Tiredness seeped through her but sleep was knocked away as she was tossed about. The baby could feel her mother's stress through the tenseness of her body, and the way her sad eyes looked down at her child. And now, the baby could feel the weakness, and the way that she was slowing the woman down. The Woman The woman knew that her child's only hope to live was to separate. She couldn't carry her any more, so she would leave her by the river to let the gods do what they wished with her. Then, she would be able to run faster and farther away from the evil that pursued her. So the woman slowed to a walk, her bare, muddy feet padding on the marshy ground. The Baby The girl felt her mother slow down. She opened her dark eyes to look at her mother. As they stopped, the baby girl stirred, hoping for rest. When she felt herself being lowered, however, she began to cry, waving her fists in the air. As she lay there on the ground, and her mother began to run away, the baby stopped crying, a strange sense of loneliness surrounding her. For the year that she had had with her mother, she had never been separated from her. And now, lying on the banks of the river, she was alone. With no ties of her birth. All for a necklace with an ownership tag of a slave hanging around her neck.
~`The Palace`~ The Father
The Pharaoh looked down at his small, black-haired son, Yami, who was carefully putting together a puzzle made of gold with swift hands, given to him by a gypsy woman at the market. Shifting in his throne, the Pharaoh brought his attention back to the messenger, who brought news from across the Nile. The report was short, thankfully, and the Pharaoh sighed and leaned back in his chair as the messenger bowed and walked away. The Pharaoh signaled for the musicians to play, and a lively tune was struck up within seconds. The Pharaoh looked down again at his son, who was almost done with the puzzle that he had never solved. The Pharaoh was proud of his son, the future ruler of Egypt. The Son
Yami leaned over, intent on his puzzle. His shining black hair fell over his shoulders, his violet eyes firm. His father, Pharaoh Ramsis, dismissed the messenger and the musicians began to play. Yami felt the Pharaoh lean over him, watching him solve the puzzle. This was one of the more complicated ones, many pieces to be place in perfect order by their symbols. Yami's hands flew deftly over the gold pieces, sliding and forming. Shifting and shaping.
Soon, the puzzle was finished, a perfect box with an inscription carved in the gold. Yami read the carvings and leaned back, satisfied. His father leaned over him, and laughed approvingly. "Well done, Yami. You are a king of games."
Yami turned his head to the side for a moment, thinking.
"Yu-gi-oh?" he said thoughtfully.
Ramsis laughed again. "Yes, Yu-gi-oh. What a proud ruler am I." Then, the Captain of the Guard, Opton, came in, his cloak brushing across the marble floor. "Pharaoh." He said, bowing. The Pharaoh nodded, and Opton stood up. Yami looked at the Captain with his father. Opton was one of Yami's favorite guards, and he respected the man too much to ignore his report. "Sir, a Hebrew slave escaped from her master three days ago, and has been running with her baby ever since. She stabbed her master in his leg, so he is a cripple now. We caught her yesterday running along the Nile River, but she must have left her child somewhere to avoid its capture." The Pharaoh waved his hand. "Why would this interest me?" Opton took a deep breath. "Her master was your brother, Prince Horus." The King The Pharaoh leaned back in shock. What low-living slave would cripple one of royal blood? And under what condition would they do so? The thought that he might have deserved it crossed Ramsis' mind. Horus had always been one to abuse and overwork his slaves and his rights. Just because he was a prince of Egypt didn't mean he could do the things he did without the Pharaoh's consent. The Pharaoh shook his head, forcing hose thoughts away. No slave, no matter how mistreated, was allowed to harm their master. That was penalty of death. "Where is she now?" he asked. "She's in a prison cell, my Pharaoh." The King rubbed his eyes. "Very well. I wish to speak with this prisoner. Keep her there until I tell you otherwise." Opton bowed low again and turned and left, his guards following him. Pharaoh Ramsis sat still for a moment, praying to the God Maat for good counsel. The Prince Yami looked up at his father then at Opton, searching their faces with his blue eyes. He could feel the shock in the room. Such rebellions from slaves were uncommon in the good land of Egypt. Yami himself had never witnessed a trial from a rebellion, even though there has been a handful in his father's reign. But never had there been an attack on the royal family. His father sighed and rubbed his head, telling Opton to keep the woman where she was. After Opton left, the Pharaoh sat still, then got up and left the throne room. Yami stood up and went after him. The Prisoner The woman was thrown into the prison cell. The walls and floor were made out of hard clay. There were no windows, nor was there anything to sit on. So she kneeled on the ground and prayed to Bastet, the cat-headed goddess who represented joy and motherly protection. She prayed for her tiny, infant daughter, that she would grow strong and some day. The woman's faith rested upon the ultimate God in the Hebrew religion, the God of David, but that belief had run in with the Egyptian beliefs, making her mixed religion. But still, she believed. Then, the cell door opened. She looked up and saw the Pharaoh, standing tall and confident in the doorway, anger etched deeply along the lines of his face. And she fought down a smile. Escape would be simple. The Judge The Pharaoh dressed in some of his least favorite clothes to go down to the prison cells. The place always reeked of urine and sweat, and the smell never came out well in clothes. When he reached her cell, the man guarding it unlocked it briskly and stood at rapt attention, staring at wall. When the Pharaoh opened the door, his face was angry. He felt heat coursing through him. This was the slave who crippled one of royal blood, which made him worthless, which destroyed his life. This was the person who had evaded capture, taking her child with her. This was the person who would bring many political debates against the Pharaoh. This was the woman in which he fell in love. As he looked down upon her, he felt a breathtaking surge go through him. She kneeled on the floor, her long, black hair falling around her shoulders. He hands were folded together on her chest and, as she looked up at him, and her eyes were a sorrowful, deep brown. They all remained speechless. The guards held their breath. Their eyes were locked and Opton, who stood by the Pharaoh, could see that they were in love. The Captain of the Guard waited a few more moments, then "Sire, I would recommend going to your chamber and getting cleaned up. She…" "Take her to my bedchamber and get her cleaned up. I must speak with Yami." And with that, the Pharaoh turned on his heel and left the prison cells,
half of his guards following. The rest stood there, stunned. Opton took
charge. "Please come, Lady. Pharaoh commands." The Hebrew woman nodded silently and stood up. She was graceful, her simple gray robe brushing the filthy ground. The Son Yami sat patiently looking out the window, seeing the beauty of his kingdom that he would inherit. He waited for his father who was down in the prison cells which was 'no place for a prince' according to his father. The woman who had crippled Yami's uncle was there, and Yami prayed that his father wouldn't be forced to execute her. Yami hated his uncle. He always seemed drunk and always seemed to have five women circling around him. Every time he had come up to meet his brother, those women were never the same. Horus had many children, some alive, most dead. He spent his days doing no work, unless you call charming women and putting them to bed work. All in all, Yami found his uncle a displeasing person (A/N: to put it lightly), so he supported his slave's escape. The Pharaoh came in then, sweeping in the room and dismissing the guards. He smelled faintly of the prison, all musty and molding, but Yami kept his straight face and looked his father squarely in the eyes. "Yami," his father whispered hurriedly. "Do you remember your mother?" Yami thought about it. "I remember her holding me when I was very young. I remember her bathing me when I was a baby. I remember only little, father." The Pharaoh nodded. "Yes, yes, were those good memories?" Yami nodded. "All of them." The Pharaoh took a deep breath. "Well, maybe you can have a mother once again. I must go, but you can go out in the garden or read or… Do whatever you want." The Pharaoh left, leaving a very puzzled Yami behind. A mother once again? What did he mean? Yami shook his head. His father was a wise man; the boy would leave it up to him. Yami got up from his seat, summoned his guards, and went down to the garden to read. The Orphan A girl, one year old, toddled along the shores of the Nile, giggling as she caught a frog. The slimy creature croaked loudly and leaped out of her hands and landed with a splash in the water. She giggled again and was about to follow it when she heard a cry and turned around. Then, she was being swept up into warm arms. Was this her mother? She asked herself. She looked up at the strange face. It was a woman with short black hair put up in tiny braids all around her head. Her eyes were dark and kind. She didn't know who it was, but the arms were warm compared to the mud, so she settled contentedly in the arms and slept. The Savior Jamila, an Egyptian woman of about twenty years, was walking along the river banks with her servants when she saw a small baby, maybe a year old, chasing a frog through the reeds. She stopped and watched curious, as she looked around for a mother. There was no one. The frog then jumped into the water, and the girl giggled, going after it. "No!" cried Jamila as she rushed to the girl, catching her before she could hit the water. The girl giggled and looked up at her, her dark eyes shining happily. Seeming content, the young child made a soft sighing noise that sounded like a cat meowing and went to sleep. Jamila cradled the naked babe in her arms, and then noticed a necklace hanging around her chubby neck. As she looked closer, Jamila saw that it was an ownership tag. Jamila's heart was softened, and she took her child into her house.
Gaddo- Remember, REVIEW OR DIE!!!! Kitty- I need at LEAST three to four reviews to put up the next chapter.
Chapter 1
Take My Hand
~`The Nile`~
The Mother A Hebrew mother ran along the bank of the Nile River, clutching a bundle to her chest. Her breath was ragged, her black hair a tangled mess. The bundle in her arms was whining softly as she ran, the bouncing around making sleep impossible. The woman glanced down at her baby, whose round face was wet with tears of discomfort. She had to fight back her own tears as she ran on and on. The Child Little hands clutched the blanket, as everything rushed past. The baby had had no rest the night before, for her mother had been running then, too. Tiredness seeped through her but sleep was knocked away as she was tossed about. The baby could feel her mother's stress through the tenseness of her body, and the way her sad eyes looked down at her child. And now, the baby could feel the weakness, and the way that she was slowing the woman down. The Woman The woman knew that her child's only hope to live was to separate. She couldn't carry her any more, so she would leave her by the river to let the gods do what they wished with her. Then, she would be able to run faster and farther away from the evil that pursued her. So the woman slowed to a walk, her bare, muddy feet padding on the marshy ground. The Baby The girl felt her mother slow down. She opened her dark eyes to look at her mother. As they stopped, the baby girl stirred, hoping for rest. When she felt herself being lowered, however, she began to cry, waving her fists in the air. As she lay there on the ground, and her mother began to run away, the baby stopped crying, a strange sense of loneliness surrounding her. For the year that she had had with her mother, she had never been separated from her. And now, lying on the banks of the river, she was alone. With no ties of her birth. All for a necklace with an ownership tag of a slave hanging around her neck.
~`The Palace`~ The Father
The Pharaoh looked down at his small, black-haired son, Yami, who was carefully putting together a puzzle made of gold with swift hands, given to him by a gypsy woman at the market. Shifting in his throne, the Pharaoh brought his attention back to the messenger, who brought news from across the Nile. The report was short, thankfully, and the Pharaoh sighed and leaned back in his chair as the messenger bowed and walked away. The Pharaoh signaled for the musicians to play, and a lively tune was struck up within seconds. The Pharaoh looked down again at his son, who was almost done with the puzzle that he had never solved. The Pharaoh was proud of his son, the future ruler of Egypt. The Son
Yami leaned over, intent on his puzzle. His shining black hair fell over his shoulders, his violet eyes firm. His father, Pharaoh Ramsis, dismissed the messenger and the musicians began to play. Yami felt the Pharaoh lean over him, watching him solve the puzzle. This was one of the more complicated ones, many pieces to be place in perfect order by their symbols. Yami's hands flew deftly over the gold pieces, sliding and forming. Shifting and shaping.
Soon, the puzzle was finished, a perfect box with an inscription carved in the gold. Yami read the carvings and leaned back, satisfied. His father leaned over him, and laughed approvingly. "Well done, Yami. You are a king of games."
Yami turned his head to the side for a moment, thinking.
"Yu-gi-oh?" he said thoughtfully.
Ramsis laughed again. "Yes, Yu-gi-oh. What a proud ruler am I." Then, the Captain of the Guard, Opton, came in, his cloak brushing across the marble floor. "Pharaoh." He said, bowing. The Pharaoh nodded, and Opton stood up. Yami looked at the Captain with his father. Opton was one of Yami's favorite guards, and he respected the man too much to ignore his report. "Sir, a Hebrew slave escaped from her master three days ago, and has been running with her baby ever since. She stabbed her master in his leg, so he is a cripple now. We caught her yesterday running along the Nile River, but she must have left her child somewhere to avoid its capture." The Pharaoh waved his hand. "Why would this interest me?" Opton took a deep breath. "Her master was your brother, Prince Horus." The King The Pharaoh leaned back in shock. What low-living slave would cripple one of royal blood? And under what condition would they do so? The thought that he might have deserved it crossed Ramsis' mind. Horus had always been one to abuse and overwork his slaves and his rights. Just because he was a prince of Egypt didn't mean he could do the things he did without the Pharaoh's consent. The Pharaoh shook his head, forcing hose thoughts away. No slave, no matter how mistreated, was allowed to harm their master. That was penalty of death. "Where is she now?" he asked. "She's in a prison cell, my Pharaoh." The King rubbed his eyes. "Very well. I wish to speak with this prisoner. Keep her there until I tell you otherwise." Opton bowed low again and turned and left, his guards following him. Pharaoh Ramsis sat still for a moment, praying to the God Maat for good counsel. The Prince Yami looked up at his father then at Opton, searching their faces with his blue eyes. He could feel the shock in the room. Such rebellions from slaves were uncommon in the good land of Egypt. Yami himself had never witnessed a trial from a rebellion, even though there has been a handful in his father's reign. But never had there been an attack on the royal family. His father sighed and rubbed his head, telling Opton to keep the woman where she was. After Opton left, the Pharaoh sat still, then got up and left the throne room. Yami stood up and went after him. The Prisoner The woman was thrown into the prison cell. The walls and floor were made out of hard clay. There were no windows, nor was there anything to sit on. So she kneeled on the ground and prayed to Bastet, the cat-headed goddess who represented joy and motherly protection. She prayed for her tiny, infant daughter, that she would grow strong and some day. The woman's faith rested upon the ultimate God in the Hebrew religion, the God of David, but that belief had run in with the Egyptian beliefs, making her mixed religion. But still, she believed. Then, the cell door opened. She looked up and saw the Pharaoh, standing tall and confident in the doorway, anger etched deeply along the lines of his face. And she fought down a smile. Escape would be simple. The Judge The Pharaoh dressed in some of his least favorite clothes to go down to the prison cells. The place always reeked of urine and sweat, and the smell never came out well in clothes. When he reached her cell, the man guarding it unlocked it briskly and stood at rapt attention, staring at wall. When the Pharaoh opened the door, his face was angry. He felt heat coursing through him. This was the slave who crippled one of royal blood, which made him worthless, which destroyed his life. This was the person who had evaded capture, taking her child with her. This was the person who would bring many political debates against the Pharaoh. This was the woman in which he fell in love. As he looked down upon her, he felt a breathtaking surge go through him. She kneeled on the floor, her long, black hair falling around her shoulders. He hands were folded together on her chest and, as she looked up at him, and her eyes were a sorrowful, deep brown. They all remained speechless. The guards held their breath. Their eyes were locked and Opton, who stood by the Pharaoh, could see that they were in love. The Captain of the Guard waited a few more moments, then "Sire, I would recommend going to your chamber and getting cleaned up. She…" "Take her to my bedchamber and get her cleaned up. I must speak with Yami." And with that, the Pharaoh turned on his heel and left the prison cells,
half of his guards following. The rest stood there, stunned. Opton took
charge. "Please come, Lady. Pharaoh commands." The Hebrew woman nodded silently and stood up. She was graceful, her simple gray robe brushing the filthy ground. The Son Yami sat patiently looking out the window, seeing the beauty of his kingdom that he would inherit. He waited for his father who was down in the prison cells which was 'no place for a prince' according to his father. The woman who had crippled Yami's uncle was there, and Yami prayed that his father wouldn't be forced to execute her. Yami hated his uncle. He always seemed drunk and always seemed to have five women circling around him. Every time he had come up to meet his brother, those women were never the same. Horus had many children, some alive, most dead. He spent his days doing no work, unless you call charming women and putting them to bed work. All in all, Yami found his uncle a displeasing person (A/N: to put it lightly), so he supported his slave's escape. The Pharaoh came in then, sweeping in the room and dismissing the guards. He smelled faintly of the prison, all musty and molding, but Yami kept his straight face and looked his father squarely in the eyes. "Yami," his father whispered hurriedly. "Do you remember your mother?" Yami thought about it. "I remember her holding me when I was very young. I remember her bathing me when I was a baby. I remember only little, father." The Pharaoh nodded. "Yes, yes, were those good memories?" Yami nodded. "All of them." The Pharaoh took a deep breath. "Well, maybe you can have a mother once again. I must go, but you can go out in the garden or read or… Do whatever you want." The Pharaoh left, leaving a very puzzled Yami behind. A mother once again? What did he mean? Yami shook his head. His father was a wise man; the boy would leave it up to him. Yami got up from his seat, summoned his guards, and went down to the garden to read. The Orphan A girl, one year old, toddled along the shores of the Nile, giggling as she caught a frog. The slimy creature croaked loudly and leaped out of her hands and landed with a splash in the water. She giggled again and was about to follow it when she heard a cry and turned around. Then, she was being swept up into warm arms. Was this her mother? She asked herself. She looked up at the strange face. It was a woman with short black hair put up in tiny braids all around her head. Her eyes were dark and kind. She didn't know who it was, but the arms were warm compared to the mud, so she settled contentedly in the arms and slept. The Savior Jamila, an Egyptian woman of about twenty years, was walking along the river banks with her servants when she saw a small baby, maybe a year old, chasing a frog through the reeds. She stopped and watched curious, as she looked around for a mother. There was no one. The frog then jumped into the water, and the girl giggled, going after it. "No!" cried Jamila as she rushed to the girl, catching her before she could hit the water. The girl giggled and looked up at her, her dark eyes shining happily. Seeming content, the young child made a soft sighing noise that sounded like a cat meowing and went to sleep. Jamila cradled the naked babe in her arms, and then noticed a necklace hanging around her chubby neck. As she looked closer, Jamila saw that it was an ownership tag. Jamila's heart was softened, and she took her child into her house.
Gaddo- Remember, REVIEW OR DIE!!!! Kitty- I need at LEAST three to four reviews to put up the next chapter.
