Murder of the Soul
Horus-chan
Disclaimer: If I owned Yu Gi Oh, they'd have to kick it off Kids WB for the shounen ai-ness of it all. *grins* It is my belief that that is truly not a kids show. Hell, the OC's names are all taken from Eloise McGraw's books. *pouts* So I barely own their names too...
This is basically a 'in egyptian times' fic, about our favorite (only?) tomb robber. No romance at all, except barely mentioned bits about Bakura's parents. No, I'm serious, that's it. Unless I get hit by the 'need to write a shounen ai' bug. ^_^ That happens alot...
***
Sometimes I wonder how she did it, my mother, Mara. How in the name of Anubis did she manage to fall in love with... that son of forty devils? How could an innocent child like her love that demon? Her name, meaning truth of ra, being tainted by that horrible PIG?!
I suppose she went temporarily insane. Yes, insane. With a horrible mental disease called love.
I think I'm going to spit out my lentils now...
I was sitting in the reeds on the edge of the Nile river, eating my mid day meal. I vaguely noted that the ends of my blood-red robes were getting wet, but I paid it no mind. The cool mud felt good on my feet, especially after running around that damned shop all day.
I worked as a lesser craftsman in a stonecutting shop, helping shape sarcophigi out of great blocks of granite. Not that I complained, it was better then digging in the quarry, where the stones came from. I remember being terrified of those quarries as a child, even though it was mostly slaves who worked there.
Not to mention, in the shop, there was a definite perk. Since we were all building the sarcophigi, we had to know the building plans of the tomb it would go in. It would be a little disastrous if we had to stop the pharaoh's funeral procession because his coffin wouldn't fit into the entrance of the tomb.
Snicker. Actually, that would be quite funny. Not that it mattered what happened to the royal pig. I would rob him blind soon enough anyways.
A smirk passed my lips as I bit down into the fig, sweet honey filling my mouth. Oh yes, all that gold, jewels and oils for the taking, and no one but the petrified ba of the man would see it.
And technically, I was murdering that ba, the pharaoh's spirit. By taking his possessions I was dooming him to poverty and starvation in the afterlife. And if I happened to harm the mummified corpse... well, the soul of the person was killed outright.
The smirk grew sadistically wider.
I really have to stop musing lest I burst out laughing right here. Wonder what the sailors and papyrus cutters would think of a psychotic stone cutter in the river?
Probably think Set stole my mind. Hehe.
I wiped the remainder of the fig's honey off on my plain cotton shenti, a cloth wrapped around my waist and tied down by a sash. Only the rich and noble could afford fine linens. Not that I cared what those arrogant brats wore. They could parade in suits of silver for all I cared.
Because I would always be there to steal it away from them. As soon as they went to meet Osiris, I would relieve them of everything they had, leaving the ba to die. They would have nothing, not even the help of the shabti servants! I'd strike those glass eyes blind, and then go about taking all they had, selling the goods downriver.
What they had now, I would have when they were gone.
Which was the only thing that kept me from outright burning the palace right then. The current pharaoh... what was his name? Oh yes, of course. Yami. Oh how I would like to just wring his haughty little neck.
His father recently died too. I hope Osiris has been kind to old Pharaoh Sheftu. Oh, it was so sad...
Gag me. NOW.
I walked out of the reeds, back onto the streets, and went on my way back to the stonecutting shop. Mid day was almost over, and soon it would be back to the redundant task of shaping the granite. I really really really did NOT want to work to drill today.
It was so boring! Sprinkle sand in, lower drill, sprinkle sand, lower drill.
I was ready to feed myself to the crocodiles.
Curse the lucky devils who got to do something of an art. Goldworking, now that would have been a job I would have liked. I know alot about goldworking, since my grandfather used to be one before he went to meet the Gods.
But no. My hands are ruined for that kind of delicate work. After years, a lifetime of stones, my hands were rough, the palms callused and the fingers constantly cut/bruised/bleeding.
I really doubt I'd be able to handle pouring an ingot properly.
And I have that son of a kheft to blame for it. Damn my father! I could have taken up goldworking, I had enough talent, but no, my father apprenticed me to the stonecutters.
All my gold armband dreams vanished that day.
Now I was stuck with the only trade I knew, a life of hearing grating stones and harsh grindings.
A lifetime of making outer coffins...
But I repayed my accursed father back in full for what he did to me. Oh yes, he certainly payed.
I think maybe the arm of his mummy is somewhere in the nile... Oh well. Don't know, don't care.
After a brilliantly interesting [yeah right] bit of putting cutting sand in the notches of the sarcophigus, I trailed my way home.
It wasn't large, like some of the places that were ridiculously huge [cough, PHARAOH, cough] but it was decently sized. And it had a fairly large courtyard as well, a date palm in one corner. I climbed the stairs, and entered my room. I was greeted with stolen tomb plans littering the floor around the sleeping mat, and I smiled.
Home sweet home. I slipped the robe off my back, tossing it to the floor before crawling onto my sleeping mat.
I closed my mahogany eyes, deep and slightly red, inherited from the devil that was my father, and fell into dreamless sleep.
***
Again I find myself at the edge of the Nile, this time looking down at the waters at my reflection. It's weird, seeing both my parents in this person. I despised half of myself for it, because that meant I looked a little like my father as well. But the white hair was undoubtably my mother's. She always looked angelic with it, almost like a noble of the blessed Underworld born into the mortal realm again.
But my hair was cropped short, looking coarse and rough, hardly the moonbeams that was my mother's hair. I scowled at the reflection, dark brown-red eyes glaring back at me above a nasty scar on my right cheek.
That damned thing was one of the few miseries I didn't owe my father. I hadn't been paying attention when I was younger, and some of the cutting sand flew out at me, cutting my face.
One of these days, I will see that stone shop burned to the ground, as Ra as my witness!
I swatted at the waters, ruining the reflection and sending hundreds of ripples coarsing through the water. Nuit was scattered with stars that night, Thoth hanging full in the sky. I walked out of the river again, and headed away from Thebes, into the desert, and into the Valley of the Kings.
Time to rob another soul, oh King of Thieves.
Hmm, I like that title. Nahkti, King of Thieves! I allowed myself a snicker before going silent, pulling the hood of my robes over my head. I was approaching the tombs, and had to remain invisible to the guards.
They were idiots, but it was kind of hard to miss my hair color bobbing around the tombs.
I approached a tomb, getting by rather easily. Seriously, do these people want their dead to be robbed? If they were going to piss away all their gold, at least get good protection for it all.
I leaned my shoulder against the boulder that blocked the entrance, easing it open an inch at a time. I had to work quickly but silently. If I took too long, I'd be caught when they noticed the open grave. If I was too loud, they'd notice me anyway.
But I was me, tomb robber extraordinaire.
And the ultimate rule of tomb robbing is: Never. Get. Caught.
And I was pretty damn good at it. I smirked as I snuck along the passageways, alit torch held over my head. Not that I needed it. I studied the plans for the tomb so much that I could find my way around in pitch black darkness.
I could smell the scent of preservated, musty air getting stronger, tipped with the smell of various oils. And low and behold, there it was. I entered the burial chamber, looking around vaguely.
I wasn't interested in the treasure tonight though.
No, the dear recently departed pharaoh, Yami's father, was what I was interested in. I fingered the rope in my hand and smirked.
The almighty son of Ra would certainly get a shock at seeing his deceased father being dragged around all of Thebes.
It was suicidal, sure. Everyone with half a brain knew what happened to tomb robbers. Hung by their ankles from the palace walls. Quick drop, sudden stop.
But I felt that if I was going to go out, I certainly was going out with a bang.
And I would never die. I was the darkness that stalked the tombs at night, taking away all that I wished from those rich snots.
And I would always be there and take everything from them. Always.
They would never know the meaning of peaceful rest. Even if it cost me my heart to Ammit.
***
End! Or is it? I dunno, a TBC?
I suppose those that aren't familar with ancient egyptian culture are a bit confused by now.
Especially the Nuit/Thoth part? Well Nuit was the goddess of the sky, and she's basicly depicted as being a woman who was stretched over the heavens. And Thoth basically meant the moon itself, since he is the moon god, besides other things.
Khefts were sort of nightmarish demons that prowled the middle of the night, and in tombs methinks. Not too sure about khefts, can't find much on the subject. ^_^;;
And the son of Ra thing. Pharaohs were believed to be the offspring of the sun god Ra, gods on earth if you will.
Hope I didn't miss anything, and hope you all didn't get too confused. ^_^;;
HC
Horus-chan
Disclaimer: If I owned Yu Gi Oh, they'd have to kick it off Kids WB for the shounen ai-ness of it all. *grins* It is my belief that that is truly not a kids show. Hell, the OC's names are all taken from Eloise McGraw's books. *pouts* So I barely own their names too...
This is basically a 'in egyptian times' fic, about our favorite (only?) tomb robber. No romance at all, except barely mentioned bits about Bakura's parents. No, I'm serious, that's it. Unless I get hit by the 'need to write a shounen ai' bug. ^_^ That happens alot...
***
Sometimes I wonder how she did it, my mother, Mara. How in the name of Anubis did she manage to fall in love with... that son of forty devils? How could an innocent child like her love that demon? Her name, meaning truth of ra, being tainted by that horrible PIG?!
I suppose she went temporarily insane. Yes, insane. With a horrible mental disease called love.
I think I'm going to spit out my lentils now...
I was sitting in the reeds on the edge of the Nile river, eating my mid day meal. I vaguely noted that the ends of my blood-red robes were getting wet, but I paid it no mind. The cool mud felt good on my feet, especially after running around that damned shop all day.
I worked as a lesser craftsman in a stonecutting shop, helping shape sarcophigi out of great blocks of granite. Not that I complained, it was better then digging in the quarry, where the stones came from. I remember being terrified of those quarries as a child, even though it was mostly slaves who worked there.
Not to mention, in the shop, there was a definite perk. Since we were all building the sarcophigi, we had to know the building plans of the tomb it would go in. It would be a little disastrous if we had to stop the pharaoh's funeral procession because his coffin wouldn't fit into the entrance of the tomb.
Snicker. Actually, that would be quite funny. Not that it mattered what happened to the royal pig. I would rob him blind soon enough anyways.
A smirk passed my lips as I bit down into the fig, sweet honey filling my mouth. Oh yes, all that gold, jewels and oils for the taking, and no one but the petrified ba of the man would see it.
And technically, I was murdering that ba, the pharaoh's spirit. By taking his possessions I was dooming him to poverty and starvation in the afterlife. And if I happened to harm the mummified corpse... well, the soul of the person was killed outright.
The smirk grew sadistically wider.
I really have to stop musing lest I burst out laughing right here. Wonder what the sailors and papyrus cutters would think of a psychotic stone cutter in the river?
Probably think Set stole my mind. Hehe.
I wiped the remainder of the fig's honey off on my plain cotton shenti, a cloth wrapped around my waist and tied down by a sash. Only the rich and noble could afford fine linens. Not that I cared what those arrogant brats wore. They could parade in suits of silver for all I cared.
Because I would always be there to steal it away from them. As soon as they went to meet Osiris, I would relieve them of everything they had, leaving the ba to die. They would have nothing, not even the help of the shabti servants! I'd strike those glass eyes blind, and then go about taking all they had, selling the goods downriver.
What they had now, I would have when they were gone.
Which was the only thing that kept me from outright burning the palace right then. The current pharaoh... what was his name? Oh yes, of course. Yami. Oh how I would like to just wring his haughty little neck.
His father recently died too. I hope Osiris has been kind to old Pharaoh Sheftu. Oh, it was so sad...
Gag me. NOW.
I walked out of the reeds, back onto the streets, and went on my way back to the stonecutting shop. Mid day was almost over, and soon it would be back to the redundant task of shaping the granite. I really really really did NOT want to work to drill today.
It was so boring! Sprinkle sand in, lower drill, sprinkle sand, lower drill.
I was ready to feed myself to the crocodiles.
Curse the lucky devils who got to do something of an art. Goldworking, now that would have been a job I would have liked. I know alot about goldworking, since my grandfather used to be one before he went to meet the Gods.
But no. My hands are ruined for that kind of delicate work. After years, a lifetime of stones, my hands were rough, the palms callused and the fingers constantly cut/bruised/bleeding.
I really doubt I'd be able to handle pouring an ingot properly.
And I have that son of a kheft to blame for it. Damn my father! I could have taken up goldworking, I had enough talent, but no, my father apprenticed me to the stonecutters.
All my gold armband dreams vanished that day.
Now I was stuck with the only trade I knew, a life of hearing grating stones and harsh grindings.
A lifetime of making outer coffins...
But I repayed my accursed father back in full for what he did to me. Oh yes, he certainly payed.
I think maybe the arm of his mummy is somewhere in the nile... Oh well. Don't know, don't care.
After a brilliantly interesting [yeah right] bit of putting cutting sand in the notches of the sarcophigus, I trailed my way home.
It wasn't large, like some of the places that were ridiculously huge [cough, PHARAOH, cough] but it was decently sized. And it had a fairly large courtyard as well, a date palm in one corner. I climbed the stairs, and entered my room. I was greeted with stolen tomb plans littering the floor around the sleeping mat, and I smiled.
Home sweet home. I slipped the robe off my back, tossing it to the floor before crawling onto my sleeping mat.
I closed my mahogany eyes, deep and slightly red, inherited from the devil that was my father, and fell into dreamless sleep.
***
Again I find myself at the edge of the Nile, this time looking down at the waters at my reflection. It's weird, seeing both my parents in this person. I despised half of myself for it, because that meant I looked a little like my father as well. But the white hair was undoubtably my mother's. She always looked angelic with it, almost like a noble of the blessed Underworld born into the mortal realm again.
But my hair was cropped short, looking coarse and rough, hardly the moonbeams that was my mother's hair. I scowled at the reflection, dark brown-red eyes glaring back at me above a nasty scar on my right cheek.
That damned thing was one of the few miseries I didn't owe my father. I hadn't been paying attention when I was younger, and some of the cutting sand flew out at me, cutting my face.
One of these days, I will see that stone shop burned to the ground, as Ra as my witness!
I swatted at the waters, ruining the reflection and sending hundreds of ripples coarsing through the water. Nuit was scattered with stars that night, Thoth hanging full in the sky. I walked out of the river again, and headed away from Thebes, into the desert, and into the Valley of the Kings.
Time to rob another soul, oh King of Thieves.
Hmm, I like that title. Nahkti, King of Thieves! I allowed myself a snicker before going silent, pulling the hood of my robes over my head. I was approaching the tombs, and had to remain invisible to the guards.
They were idiots, but it was kind of hard to miss my hair color bobbing around the tombs.
I approached a tomb, getting by rather easily. Seriously, do these people want their dead to be robbed? If they were going to piss away all their gold, at least get good protection for it all.
I leaned my shoulder against the boulder that blocked the entrance, easing it open an inch at a time. I had to work quickly but silently. If I took too long, I'd be caught when they noticed the open grave. If I was too loud, they'd notice me anyway.
But I was me, tomb robber extraordinaire.
And the ultimate rule of tomb robbing is: Never. Get. Caught.
And I was pretty damn good at it. I smirked as I snuck along the passageways, alit torch held over my head. Not that I needed it. I studied the plans for the tomb so much that I could find my way around in pitch black darkness.
I could smell the scent of preservated, musty air getting stronger, tipped with the smell of various oils. And low and behold, there it was. I entered the burial chamber, looking around vaguely.
I wasn't interested in the treasure tonight though.
No, the dear recently departed pharaoh, Yami's father, was what I was interested in. I fingered the rope in my hand and smirked.
The almighty son of Ra would certainly get a shock at seeing his deceased father being dragged around all of Thebes.
It was suicidal, sure. Everyone with half a brain knew what happened to tomb robbers. Hung by their ankles from the palace walls. Quick drop, sudden stop.
But I felt that if I was going to go out, I certainly was going out with a bang.
And I would never die. I was the darkness that stalked the tombs at night, taking away all that I wished from those rich snots.
And I would always be there and take everything from them. Always.
They would never know the meaning of peaceful rest. Even if it cost me my heart to Ammit.
***
End! Or is it? I dunno, a TBC?
I suppose those that aren't familar with ancient egyptian culture are a bit confused by now.
Especially the Nuit/Thoth part? Well Nuit was the goddess of the sky, and she's basicly depicted as being a woman who was stretched over the heavens. And Thoth basically meant the moon itself, since he is the moon god, besides other things.
Khefts were sort of nightmarish demons that prowled the middle of the night, and in tombs methinks. Not too sure about khefts, can't find much on the subject. ^_^;;
And the son of Ra thing. Pharaohs were believed to be the offspring of the sun god Ra, gods on earth if you will.
Hope I didn't miss anything, and hope you all didn't get too confused. ^_^;;
HC