Disclaimer: See my bio. But I don¡¯t own any of the stuff here.
Summary: A fanfic challenge of spiderweb. Malik is the adopted son of a priest, vowed not to have anything to do with sexual affairs.. Ryou is a seductive demon searching for an innocent prey to corrupt.. Well, let¡¯s say the inevitable happens. First Ancient Egyptian setting, then moves onto Post Battle City.
Rating: R for sexual content and violence in later chapters.
Pairing: Ryou x Malik [Seme x Uke]
Category: Romance/General
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Uab Ba-k Am Neteru
By. Firemoon
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Chapter 2: The Taking of the Vow
The sun Ra was nearly down beyond the horizon, ready to be swallowed by Nut and reborn again next morning, with all his brilliance returned. The sky was stained brightly, a mix of red, orange, yellow and gold. On the opposite side of the sun, the night was already invading the sky, and few stars, Ra¡¯s children, was already out, winking innocently and wisely to the mortals below.
Ptahotep started packing all the fishing equipments away, swiftly coiling the fishing line around the slender, willowy fishing rods. The fish caught today – all good fat ones that would do nicely for tonight¡¯s dinner - were threaded neatly, already gutted and scaled taken off by the nimble hands of the priest-scribe.
Beside him a boy of about 13 stood silently, silently observing the priest working and often offering to help, putting away the baits and later carrying the rods in his arms as they walked back to the temples. His soft golden curls swayed around his face, and softly brushing against his bare shoulders. A simple golden amulet charm of Horus¡¯ eye was hung around his slender neck, and he also wore the loincloth of apprentice priests, dyed a sandy golden colour. Something that hadn¡¯t been seen for decades in the Temples.. until Setnakht came along one night.
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After storing the fishing equipments safely in Ptahotep¡¯s quarters, the dark skinned priest took Setnakht towards the boy¡¯s own quarters and made him get changed to a clean loincloth, out of the one that was stained with water and mud. Then Ptahotep ushered the golden brown haired boy out to the courtyard, and started marching brusquely up to the other side of the Temples. The boy nearly had to jog to keep up with the tall, dark skinned priest. The boy finally got the older man to slow down, and Setnakht asked nervously; it wasn¡¯t every day that you wear one of your best linen loincloth and go deeper into the Temples where the main gods and goddesses of the Two Lands stayed.
¡°Where are we going, Tep?¡±
The dusky lavender eyed priest in training asked anxiously, the eyes looking unnaturally wide with barely concealed nervousness. Ptahotep smiled down at Setnakht, gently taking his hand. The boy was only thirteen summers old, and already the golden brown haired boy had the attributes of a priest, loving to learn and worship the gods. All these long years within the Temples, the dark skinned priest had not heard the boy utter a single complaint.
The lavender eyed boy was the youngest in among the priests in the Temples by well over 10 years. Everybody loved him, treating the young priest in training as each one of them¡¯s younger brother, a son, a nephew. But even with all the fawning upon-s, Setnakht had grown up to be a fine, reserved boy, not like the boys his own age running rampage around the town down below, last time he heard.
The boy nervously tugged on the tightly knotted sash of his sand golden loincloth. Ptahotep took the boy¡¯s fidgeting hand in his own, and the golden brown haired boy looked up, voice, despite his nervousness, - or because of it – soft.
¡°The sunset is beautiful this evening.¡±
His dusky amethyst eyes stained orange as the red golden rays of the setting sun reflected in his eyes. His golden hair, similar to his eyes, was also shimmering curls of red-orange. Ptahotep spoke up, his earrings jingling slightly as he turned his head towards the young priest in training.
¡°We¡¯re going to the Temple of Ma¡¯at, Setnakht.¡±
¡°To the Truth goddess?¡±
Setnakht¡¯s voice rose to an ungraceful and out of character squeak, but the dark skinned priest understood; the Truth goddess¡¯ temple was not a very comfortable place to be in, Rather, it was too.. unnerving. Of course, it was the duty of mortal kind to hold the law of Ma¡¯at high, to always preserve the Truth and Justice, but the human nature, always born slightly corrupted, would not allow itself to be collected and calm in the presence of the pure essence of Truth and Justice, however the humankind may adore the two essential values. Ptahotep and Setnakht started walking towards the limestone temple looming far away on the other side of the great courtyard, the greenish blue eyed priest carefully explaining the process of the Making of the Vow to the wide eyed priest in training.
¡°You are to take your Vow as an official priest in training of the Temples of Karnak.¡±
¡°Vow?¡±
¡°We, the priests of Karnak, always take this Vow when we turn 13, which you have turned only last week. And no, we don¡¯t shave off our hairs yet.¡±
Ptahotep grinned down at the small worried face of the little one below.
¡°We take another Vow at the age of 17, and that¡¯s when we cut off our hair and shave the rest off.¡±
¡°Hm..¡±
There was a short silence while the two slowly walked towards the Temple of Ma¡¯at, the river Nile glittering like a mass of broken shards of glass in between the numerous temples. Setnakht looked up, the violet eyes still holding nervousness.
¡°Tep?¡±
¡°Yes, Little one?¡±
¡°Do I have to get the tattoo?¡±
Ptahotep mused silently, a finger making a twirling motion, tracing an imaginary lines and curves on the golden brown haired boy¡¯s left cheek where the tattoo would be after this night, identical to his own. He soothed the boy¡¯s nerves with his calm, gentle voice.
¡°It is the symbol of your devotion and love for gods, your faith in the Eternal Beings, Setnakht. We all feel proud of the tattoo, and we felt the same when we got them.¡±
Setnakht sighed, the golden curls slipping from the confinements of a thin leather cord around the boy¡¯s head. When he spoke again, his voice was soft and gentle, as usual. But there was a certain amount of fierceness in it.
¡°I know, Tep. I love the gods. I love the Temples, I love all the people in here. I want to be a priest, spending the rest of my life in here, among the gods and serving them, until I finally go to the Hall of the King of the Dead, but...¡±
The boy¡¯s voice trailed down to a mere nothing, and a sudden wind gushed, making their loincloths, the dark skinned priest¡¯s leopard skin and Setnakht¡¯s golden brown curls whip around madly. Ptahotep looked down worriedly at the boy, walking silently with eyes downcast. If the boy refuses to take the tattoo, he would be banished from the Temples, and possibly from Karnak, doomed for eternity..
¡°Tep?¡±
The dark skinned priest-scribe started, and looked down, his greenish blue eyes blinking confusedly, almost like an owl. Setnakht smiled, a serene, gentle smile of a person who is with the Gods and at peace, and silently held out a lightly tanned hand for the priest to take. Ptahotep then realized how tall the boy had grown; now he nearly reached the priest¡¯s shoulder, and he was considered rather tall. Setnakht said softly, eyes drifting dreamily over to the drowsy Nile.
¡°I¡¯m ready.¡±
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Setnakht was taken to the Grooming Chambers, and there he was washed, oiled, perfumed, dressed, and ornamented with simple armbands and necklaces and also with instruments needed for the ritual. The boy was still quite tense, but the scented oil had taken away a part of the nervous tension, and now Setnakht found himself getting drowsy as he looked around at the flickering mass of candles. But he had to stay awake. He must.
Setnakht shook his head a few times to clear his fuzzy vision, the loopy earrings sending cold shivers against his skin that made him shudder. But soon, the pair of the golden shiny metal loops were warmed by the head from his body, and Setnakht sighed as his mind again tried to fall back to the oblivion of dreams, the messenger of gods, the representative of hidden thoughts, the mirror of emotions.
But they were instantly banished as he was led out by the arm into the pale pink limestone hall of the goddess Ma¡¯at. The priests made him kneel in front of the image of the goddess of truth, carved delicately into the wall. The cold, freezing stone beneath him was enough to wake him up as was the holy, invisible presence of the Ethereal Being who was gazing down mysteriously with her onyx black eyes at him.
Setnakht felt a cool, ghostly touches of the priest¡¯s hands on his shoulder as each one of them slowly exited by the door, one by one, and the golden haired boy was feeling quite a lot more reassured than before. But very sooner than he wished to be, he was alone. The sweet, heady incense finally burnt out after a long while, but it seemed to be very short for the golden haired priest in training.
The candles flickered, and in Setnakht¡¯s eyes, the goddess on the wall seemed to be moving, beckoning softly at him with her winged, outstretched arms to come closer. Setnakht stood up, wobbling slightly because of the previously cut off blood circulation to his legs, but he managed to stand on his feet, though he swayed slightly as if drunk. He staggered up closer to the goddess of Truth and All Good.
His dusky violet eyes were now tinted distinctively onyx black. Those eyes now looked up, meeting the goddess¡¯ dark eyes, staring back at him from her place in the stone wall, and his lips formed words and chants that he had never learned before.
¡°I am thy servant, Feather of Righteousness, goddess of Balance between Evil and Good, Truth, and Justice.¡±
Slowly, Setnakht¡¯s seemingly possessed form pressed his hands on the cool stone, against the outstretched hands of the goddess, his left cheek pressed into her face. His lithe form fitted right into the slender, fragile form of Ma¡¯at. His golden eyelashes fluttered as he closed them, his body so still so that the priest in training did not even seem to be breathing. The flames of the candles flickered again by an unknown wind from somewhere deep inside the temple, and one of them went out this time with a strand of pale smoke, barely visible.
Then , Setnakht detached himself from the goddess¡¯ image with a gasp, breath being sucked in with great heave. He tentatively trailed his finger onto the coiling marks that was the mark of priests and priests in training of Karnak, painfully blood red against his tanned light mocha skin. He fell to his knees as the invisible power of the goddess again overtook him, and he blindly chanted, barely audible, the Vow of the priests of Karnak passing through his mind like hissing arrows, each word deeply embedding itself into Setnakht¡¯s mind and ba.[1] Setnakht, still chanting the breathy words, grabbed for the dagger already being heated over the little fire, his movements seemingly unconscious and sluggish. The blade was white hot, but fortunately, a thick cover of leather protected the handle, so the holder¡¯s hand was not burnt.
Raising the white hot blade to his left cheek, Setnakht carved the flesh there, expertly tattooing the smooth skin. His eyes were unblinking, blank and clouded dark murky violet. He did not make a sound even as the hot metal scorched into his skin, bursting the flesh, the tip digging flawlessly into the exact same coils and curves that the blood red lines had made previously.
Soon, the blood was silently but relentlessly dribbling from the opened gashes, just a horrible, coiling mass of lines. Setnakht then dropped the dagger carelessly into the bowl of water beside the fire where the dagger had been heated on. The metal made hissing and sizzling noises as it sank into the depths of the cool water in the earthenware bowl.
Setnakht then staggered up, and the wide, dusky lavender eyes met the dark, brooding gaze of the goddess, who was silently observing the priest in training from her place in the wall. His cleared eyes closed, and he slid to the floor with a faint whimper, the searing pain finally awakening and ramming into his whole body. The flames flickered over his unconscious form.
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[1] Ba is a spiritual term that can be closely [but not quite] translated to the soul of a person. Another word to imply this is ka but I generally think of this as a kind of aurora of someone¡¯s spirit, so ba suited better here.
Yay! I¡¯m done with the second chappie! *dances around madly, grabbing Yami Bakura for a dance along the way* *Yami Bakura smacks her on the head with the butt of the axe from chapter 1* Ouch.. yeah, this is the Vow-Taking bit.. sorry I left out the text of the actual vow.. couldn¡¯t make it sound good. I¡¯ve been trying to write it for the ENTIRE WEEK but found myself couldn¡¯t, went ES and to Yami Malik Berserk Mode. [which means I start smashing stuff with my baseball bat, pretending that it¡¯s the Sennen Rod and stuff.] [Also includes laughing insanely and trying to kill other people]
Thanks to: dangerousgirl – yeah, they will come out.. eventually. *evil grin* Thanks for the support! spiderweb – yay! Thanks for the review and compliment! Also thanks for adding this to your fav list! I love you for posting this challenge! *hugs* ferocity – er, these names are from an AUTHENTIC Egyptian name site that I found on internet. And I personally thought it was pretty easy to pronounce.. not that it matters because this is meant to be read [with eyes], not read [aloud]. But BIG THANKS to you for your really helpful comment. Thanks! alostblackcat – Hey, thanks mighty for the review. Really appreciate all the support! *sniff sniff* lotus re-incarnate – a REALLY BIG THANKS to you for reviewing this fic! Hope you found this chapter worthy enough.. And Bakura.. mmm.. *drools* Impish Pixie – Thanks mighty for reviewing! I know.. chibi Malik.. cute.. *cuddles Yami Bakura, who again smacks her*
Thanks everyone, and review! [constructiveflames with reasons accepted/others without reasons will be used to burn Yami Yugi. *evil laughter*]
Yours Faithfully Fanfictional,
Firemoon