I AM SO SORRY THIS CHAPTER IS OVER A WEEK LATE! And the blame lies entirely on my job: I SWEAR the increasing demands these last two weeks have nearly killed me! This chapter alone took nearly two weeks to write because i literally had no time to write or was too tired and even my lunch breaks i had to sacrifice due to stress and lack of motivation. And then my poor Grammar Knight had finals, so yes, it was hell, and you all know how much i HATE missing my deadlines ugh! But to make it up to you this is an extra long chapter,cause i know all you sadists have waited patiently to see YUgi get his ass kicked doing chores MWAHAHAHAHA

Anyway...

DISCLAIMER: I only own the plot

DEDICATIONS: The reviewers! your depth, comments and portrayals keep me going and assure me I'm accomplishing all i set out to do with my writing! thank you girls! and to my wonderful Grammar Knight Aramaipswich for getitng this back to me during her finals week! You are a goddess girl!

Now on to the chapter!

Chapter XXXV: Chores

Three days. It had been three days since Yugi began assimilating into his new life on his husband's ship… and all his efforts had ended in disaster.

True to his promise, he and Timaeus had ushered several bags of root vegetables, dried fruits, and salted meat into the kitchen. Timaeus carried all three with little effort; he struggled with just one. Halfway up the second set of stairs, the bag slipped from his weak fingers. Turnips spilled down the steps like a stampede of escaping gazelles. Some more ambitious than the rest even had the gall to jump over two steps at a time, until all of them formed a clustered herd at the foot of the storage hold.

He wasn't even surprised by the round of snickers and veiled snorts that followed. Gathering his dignity, Yugi took up the bag and proceeded to calmly walk down the steps to restock. Timaeus didn't frown when Yugi stole a glance at him. There was no disappointment in his eyes, only a comforting smile. Yugi would've preferred his fury. Even disappointment would have made him feel less guilty.

He tried separating them into two smaller bags, but by the time they reached the galley, the effort had left him embarrassingly exhausted. The thousand scrutinizing eyes sizing him up as he followed Timaeus back down were worse. All were thinking the same thing, he knew: this was their Trierarch's chosen, and they were unimpressed. He wanted nothing more than to slink back to the Trierarch's quarters and sink into the bed sheets, up to the tips of his hair. Only his pride kept his back straight and his shoulders squared.

After his second try had left him struggling to keep up, Timaeus offered to transport the goods with a smile, and tasked Yugi with the job of reorganizing the cargo hold. Staring at the chaotic mess, Yugi had never felt so confident. After all, he was trained as a scribe and learned mathematics under the guidance of royal tutors. Surely those skills would make the task easy enough?

It hadn't.

He set to work—hopes rising—but as he sorted through bushels of dried herbs, crates of vegetables, fruits lying against loops of coarse ropes and wrapped sheets, barrels of water, mead, lamp oil, and ink all stacked together, his confidence dissolved. The task of organizing changed themes repeatedly and none were effective. At first, he tried organizing by category, but that backfired when he failed to remember that the water was for both drinking and bathing. Next, he tried the more effective method of arranging everything by amounts, but quickly lost interest in the amount of work that would take. By the time his third method failed, he had moved everything at least twice and his entire body ached. Refusing to give up, he finally decided to stack all identical items together along the walls, but his height got in the way and he was forced to stand on another box for support. The ship's constant swaying upset his equilibrium and both he and two of his towers collapsed to the ground.

Ryou rushed to his aid when others arrived to investigate the source of the crash. The arrogant dark-skinned blond he recognized from the day before made a snide comment about Kemet royals being graceful on dry sand, but rather clumsy at sea. Otogi, the arrogant raven-haired man he'd gotten into the scuffle with—and the Boatswain—had taken one look at the upturned buckets of scintillating nails, spoiling vegetables, and wasted mead, and was absolutely livid. Yugi didn't blame him. When Otogi finished screaming, Yugi dusted himself off and offered to straighten up, but Otogi barked a sharp "No," and said he'd do it himself. Yugi was about to protest but Otogi's locked jaw and murderous glare dared him to continue. Relenting, he left, but over his shoulder, he heard Ryou snapping up to Yugi's defense.

"I wouldn't trust him to tar the floors!" Their bellowing laughter soon snorted in his ears.

He couldn't even look at Timaeus for the rest of the day.

The second day hadn't been much better.

The wood and waves had served well enough, but the fickle wind had turned traitorous during the night, and so Timaeus had the whole crew up at dawn rigging the sails, adamant that he'd be damned before he let The Eye steer any further off course. Yugi had been among those ordered to assist while Timaeus, Rhebekka, and Ryou took the helm—and he had been determined to prove himself competent to the task. Each time he grabbed for the rope, someone snapped him out of the way, or grabbed it from his hands. Someone flung him a spare and he took it and yanked hard, but the coarse rope felt slippery in his hands. Fibers dug into his palms, scraping him like thorns. Still, he held on, desperately pulling even as his hands clamored to find solid grip. Then the sail stalled, and the rope slipped from his fingers. He barely registered something plummeting towards him before he was barreled to the ground. A pair of strong arms absorbed the shock of the impact.

He blinked several times before Timaeus' vague outline clarified. And so did the loose mast, and the abandoned rope he'd been holding. Only Ryou, Rhebekka, and Timaeus weren't glaring at him. Timaeus wasn't even looking at him at all.

"What happened!?" he barked, pulling them both to their feet. Yugi let him, still shell-shocked.

"Isn't it obvious?" Malik's clip was a restrained grumble. "Couldn't hold onto the rope." He was careful to avoid any names but Yugi knew. They all knew.

"Of course not!" It was Ryou who snapped—the evidence of the event clenched in his hand. He rang it along the rope. It came away damp and shiny. "This rope is caked in oil!"

Yugi looked up at that and he wasn't the only one. Timaeus' eye narrowed.

"What did you expect after the mess the storage room was in yester-eve?" Otogi snapped next.

"Regardless…" It was Ryou who cut off the string of comments rising in all their throats. His soft voice was low and cold, and when he spoke, his words were like a stone dropping into a well. "As the Boatswain, inspecting the ship's sailing, rigging equipment, and reporting any damaged items are in your domain, is it not, Otogi? And attending to all the ship's repairs is Malik's duty." Ryou shifted his eyes to the blond who gaped at him, spotlighted in shock. "Perhaps had you two taken better care of your duties, then the mess would not have happened?" It was not a question. Both men gaped at him and turned to the Trierarch for support, but found only cold dismissal. His eyes did not leave them, even as he pulled Yugi to his feet.

"Heaven Forbid," Ryou continued, a smile slitting his face. "Someone could've been harmed by such negligence. Like our Trierarch's consort or even the Trierarch himself." The retort dripped with mockery, and both men knew better than to challenge the threat.

The blond, Malik, gawked—spotlighted: an innocent man convicted of sin… or rather, a man so certain he would not be convicted.

"It matters little how it happened," Yugi clucked in, and the whole crew spun to him. He had felt Timaeus shift but Yugi didn't look at him. "The wind is against us and we need to get back on course." He hurried away, not glancing at anyone.

Timaeus said nothing, and for that, Yugi was grateful.

By Day Three, it had become clear that Yugi had no hope of succeeding at manual labor, so Timaeus finally relented and moved him to Rhebekka's custody. She'd set him to work at cutting onions for a roast beef stew she was brewing. The kitchen blade was smaller and the metal sharper than the copper snickersnees he was used to, and he constantly cut his fingers on the sharp iron. Each nick caused blood to infect the food and mess to contaminate his workspace. Even that wasn't as bad as Rhebekka's scolding screams. He had spent more time cleaning the blood and disinfecting the blade than he had cutting the vegetables. After the third cut, Rhebekka forced his hands into a pair of tough, leather gloves. They were thick and bulky and destroyed his dexterity, but at least now he was cutting off chunks of radish and not his flesh. Fortunately, he succeeded in skinning the last batch without incident.

Ever the hard mistress, Rhebekka had set him straight to work storing them in jars, tying bushels of herbs in leather straps, and hanging them over the fire to dry; and once that was done, she had shoved him into a joint washroom to clean the dishes. That was where he found himself now. On his knees, sleeves rolled up, and elbows deep in hot, soapy water. The rancid combo of salt and soap aggravated his nose, the heat stung his eyes, and his arms were red and pruned as a dried raisin by the time he'd finished the last dish—only for Rhebekka to enter a moment later with an armful of large pots, thick with grime and caked in soup. She dumped them into the tub with a sympathetic look. Yugi should've screamed. He wanted to scream, but all he managed was a tired groan. He squeezed the rag, leaving it damp and soapy, and set to work.

Three days, and the former prince of Kemet—now consort to the Dragon Knight and Trierarch of The Eye of Timaeus, and soon-to-be Magistrate of Locri—was doing dishes. That was his role, because he'd failed at everything else. Even the crew's bullying wasn't entirely to blame, he knew. As much as he had dreaded doing anything that constituted manual labor, he couldn't help but be excited. His first stay on The Eye had him hauled up for days in the Trierarch's cabin, recovering and pouting. Volunteering to help Rhebekka with her chores had simply been a means to curve his boredom. Now, he had the chance to prove himself. To show that he could be one of them. To show that he could be useful—and it was nice, he realized. To be useful, to have a role and a place onboard the ship, and he'd been confident that he could do it.

He should've stayed in the Great Cabin.

A wave of depression—both from the sea and his heart—sent him leaning back. The balls of his feet retracted and plopped on his bottom with a heavy sigh. The crew hadn't liked him then either, he remembered. Back then, he'd been a guest. Now, he was a Consort and second ruler, and his position was still no different. It was no wonder they hated him, he thought.

He wasn't naïve of their snaps and snickers. Nor was he foolish enough to believe the ropes had been an accident. The crew despised him. They saw him as a burden, because he was one. It hurt to admit it, but it would've been worthless to deny the truth. They thought he was useless, and he's all but proven them true. Here he was, the Trierarch's consort—soon-to-be Magistrate—and he could barely chop vegetables.

When the last pot was cleaned and set aside, he rose from his sore knees and hauled the heavy tub to his chest. Water splashed over the rims and soaked the wrap Rhebekka had given him, but he didn't care. Slowly, he hiked his heavy burden up to the deck and dumped it over the rail. Exhausted and panting, he slouched against the railing, and studied the fractured sea beneath him. The waves were small, but roughly tossed curls of foam. The swish of the oars crafted little whirlpools and the color shifted in the light from an omniscient deep blue to a bland slouched gray—like the sea itself couldn't decide what it wanted.

Despite that, though, Yugi felt calmed by it. The air was crisp and sharp with the smell of salt. Horizons spread all around him like the sea and sky had smashed together, and infinite blue water spread unparalleled and unstoppable. It reeked of freedom and possibilities, and Yugi knew from then on that he loved the sea and all its infinite promises. He needed that comfort.

"Getting some air?" Yugi spun. Ryou descended the castle steps with a small smile. "You look haggard," he said with a soft laugh.

Yugi chuckled and gazed down at his pale hands, wrinkled like a dried prune. "I am. I thought my siblings were harsh taskmasters."

Ryou burst with laughter. "Aye, learned that lesson the hard way myself. Only person I've ever met more stubborn than the Trierarch is his Quartermaster." He relaxed against the railing, his posture formal but not unfriendly.

And just like that, Yugi was alone with the Sailing Master. A Sailing Master, he reminded himself, who was close to Timaeus and Rhebekka, and the men who hated him—and yet whose tone towards him had changed. The formality was no longer icy, his posture no longer stiff—and this time, when they spoke, he didn't struggle with his laughs.

"Um, thank you…" Yugi started, a bit thrown-off.

Ryou spun to him and he elaborated. "For yesterday, that is. You did not have to."

"Oh yes, I did," Ryou cut him off, bluntly and holding no room for argument.

"Still," Yugi said, suddenly shy.

"It will get easier," Ryou reassured him. "We have all faltered when we started. You are not the first, nor will you be the last."

Yugi's fingers curled under his palms, trembling. "It isn't that." He paused. "They aren't wrong about me, Ryou. They see me as a burden, because I am one. I've never served on a ship as anything other than a passenger. I've never done manual labor before today. I was a Prince of Kemet, trained as a priest of Sekhmet and served the Great House all my life, yet here… here I'm a Trierarch's Consort. In Locri, I will be a Magistrate, and I will have a whole island's care as my duty, yet I can hardly cut radishes."

He finally looked at Ryou, shaking. "Can I tell you a secret? Something… I haven't even told Rhebekka?" His eyes were wracked with pain and Ryou could only nod. "I…" Yugi tried to speak, but realized he couldn't look at him. His wet eyes dropped its gaze to the floor. "I want to be a good Magistrate. I want to be his Magistrate. I know I can, but this—all this—is so new to me, and there's so much I don't know. How do I start? How do I show them that I can do this? And what if I don't? What if I can't? How can I help him rule if I can't even earn the respect of this crew? I… I don't know what to do."

Yugi's face dissolved into silent tears. He clenched the railing for support and willed himself to stop shaking. Silence passed between them and almost as instantly as the words had left him, he regretted confiding something so deeply personal to someone who only considered him civilly and not a friend.

"Don't give up." When Yugi looked at him, his dark brown eyes were hard with determination but soft with reassurance. Ryou took Yugi's hand and held it gingerly. He spoke the Aramaic accent fluently, but traces of his native Canaanite had slipped in his passion. "You are smart, Yugi, and you're strong and you're kind. Do not let them take that from you. You are young, but your heart is true. You will succeed." His hands started shaking and Yugi stood stunned.

Finally, Ryou said, "… And I will help you."

Yugi nearly stumbled, stunned by the Sailing Master's peripeteia. Then he listened to the words again and was overcome with emotion. "Y-You will…? Oh, thank you!" He flung his arms around the pale youth. Then he felt Ryou stiffen and composed himself, blanching white and then cheeks tinting pink. "I-I-I mean—" It was difficult not to stutter.

He felt gentle hands touch his shoulders. He looked into Ryou's warm smile and the young man gave him a short embrace. It reminded Yugi of the way his brother hugged him when he'd been little and timid of everything. Then just as quickly, Ryou stiffened again and pulled away.

"You had best head back," he gestured to the sky behind him. The sun was fading fast and the sky was a mesh of deep crimson and fading purple. "It's well-nigh dusk. Your Lord Husband will be looking for you."

Yugi quickly brushed his eyes and nodded. "Thank you, Ryou. Again."

He started past him. Ryou hesitated for a moment. "Yugi," he finally called after him.

Yugi stopped.

"Talk to your husband, Yugi. Tell him what you told me. He will help you."

Yugi stiffened and shook his head. "Thank you, Ryou, for the kind consideration," he replied, courteous and dutiful. "But my Lord Husband has more pressing matters to see to." His voice had lost all its friendliness and replaced it with civility.

Ryou only nodded. "If it pleases you." His smile was kind and Yugi returned it. He departed for the forecastle, catching the last glimpse of twilight as it blinked over the sea. He watched Amun-Ra descend into the primeval sea—and for the first time, he wondered if the Gods ever feared that he would not return. Then he remembered Seth guarding his boat—the strongest and most brutal of the Gods, but also the most loyal and the fiercest of their protectors. Turning back to his friend, Ryou looked nothing like the powerfully-built, camel-nosed, beast-headed God with flaming hair and eyes he'd adored in childhood, but in him, Yugi saw all the fierceness and loyalty that had led the God to slay his brother when he and his sister stole their Grandfather's name. For the first time in three days, he lied down in his new chambers and waited for Timaeus, content in the comfort that he'd made a new friend.

X X X

Ryou watched the lad depart for the sterncastle with one last glimpse at the sun before it set. He wondered briefly what the boy was thinking, then smiled ruefully. It was so easy to see why Timaeus loved this one—this exuberant youth with a kind heart and a humble soul, but a fiery spirit. The peripeteia of it filled him with determination as well as shame. How could he, who prided himself on his judgment of character, have misread him so critically? He cleared his head, and put the past behind him, then turned to the rafters.

"Do you two plan on stalking the whole crew or just him?" Ryou retorted, his voice scratchy.

Malik growled vocally and Ryou regarded him with a simple glare over the shoulder. Otogi copied Malik's disapproving glare. The gall alone made Ryou sick.

"You understand that no one believed the ropes were an accident, correct, Malik?"

Malik's eyes flashed with trepidation but he quickly masked it. Too quickly, Otogi charged forward. "What did you expect after the mess that brat left of my storeroom?" he grouched.

"That brat," Ryou cut him off with a sharp hiss, "Is your Magistrate." He pushed himself off the ledge and took a menacing step forward—his shoulders squared and eyes sharp with accusation. He stopped in front of them. Both men had an inch or two on him, but the burning promise in his eyes, dark and hostile, carried a far more dangerous threat. "They weren't splotched from the spill." He leaned forward and whispered to them both, "They were drenched."

He let the fact hang there for a long moment before he continued. "I know it was you, Otogi, who soaked the ropes; and you, Malik, who gave it to him. The only reason I haven't gone to the Trierarch is because I have no proof it was you two. But you can be sure that he is just as suspicious of your actions as I am. If you do not believe me, then you are either naïve or breathtakingly stupid."

Malik gawked, appalled by such an accusation. Otogi's face was a weak mask of surprise that he tried to conceal under angry eyes and a tight jaw.

"Why are you supporting him?" Malik demanded, fury in his voice and anguish in his eyes. "If I remember correctly, you were just as insulted by his presence as we were!"

Ryou visibly flinched, the memory of that stupidity filling him with shame. "True…" he confessed.

Malik's face was a smile of absolute triumph.

Ryou's lips tugged into a smile. "But I've had the courage to do what you clearly could not."

Malik and Otogi blinked owlishly.

"What?" Otogi asked, curious.

A smile slit Ryou's face. "Accept the truth. Are you saying you've yet to see it?" He gasped—his surprise full of mockery. "Oh dear, how terrible. Both your prides have already been so terribly bruised."

Their faces contorted with rage. Hot-blooded, Otogi shot forward, commanding, "Listen, you—"

"No." Ryou cut him off and grabbed the hand that lurched at him with a practiced grace, squeezing tightly. "You listen to me. I am your superior, Otogi. Not the other way around. I am the Sailing Master, not one of your bumbling riggers and oarsmen." His nails sank and his fingers twisted deeper with each word, until Otogi could no longer hold his brave mask, and his knees buckled in pain. "And if you ever attempt such dishonor against me again, you'd best pray the Trierarch deals with you himself." He released Otogi's hand and the man crumbled to the deck, his wounded hand cradled against his chest.

"Now get out of my sight!" Ryou hissed. Gathering the remaining shards of his dignity, Otogi grudgingly obeyed the dismissal. Left alone, Malik stared at him—his face a mask of shock. He glared at Ryou, but Ryou furrowed his brows, daring Malik to challenge him. "Do not forget, Malik; we may be comrades—mayhap even call the other a friend—but I am still your superior." His eyes were hard but not untrusting. "And he will be the best Magistrate we could've ever hoped for. The Trierarch chose well. I tell you this, Malik, as a friend."

He left without another word. Ryou resolved himself then. To help the Trierarch's young consort. To aid him in the challenges that lie ahead. To guide him, encourage him, and change the opinions of his comrades. To show them the spirited but humble young man determined to find his place in the world and aid his husband to the best of his abilities. And mayhaps, in time, to even call himself his friend.

X X X

"Now what do you suppose all that was about?" Rhebekka clipped rhetorically over Timaeus' shoulder. His eyes were fixated on the lower decks where his consort and three of his officers had just exchanged "pleasantries".

"Does it matter?" He hardly cared for quarrels between his men. He could guess well enough. "We have far more pressing matters," he said, words laced with disgust.

"Quite," she agreed. "Then again, Yugi never was one for petty power struggles." Rhebekka's lips formed an uneasy line.

"No," Timaeus agreed—the days' events still fresh in his mind. "But he doesn't surrender either. He fights… or at least he used to." His fingers clenched, remembering Yugi's pacifist behavior—so unlike the fiery, sharp-tongued youth he's come to love.

"It's only natural for his confidence to falter in a new environment, but I am confident that will change," Rhebekka assured.

Timaeus cut her off with a sharp grunt. "I made Yugi my consort, knowing I had no intention of being with anyone else. I knew the crew mistrusted him, I knew I was bringing him to a world unknown to him and putting him in a position he was unfamiliar with, but I had seen his courage and his strength and I was confident that, in time, all would be well. How naïve is that, Rhebekka?" He clenched the wood beneath his gauntleted fingers, voice drowning in anguish.

"Indeed," Rhebekka nodded, brows furrowing. "For all their loyalty, soldiers truly are daft creatures," she snapped, revolted. "They think themselves clever, but in truth, they are grievingly predictable. They are either impetuous or naïve."

"I should throw them in the brig to rot," Timaeus growled. "And yet I can do nothing about it." His hand tightened around the railing until the wood splintered.

"You could—" Rhebekka pressed, but Timaeus cut her off.

"I could. I made my opinions clear and what the punishment will be for any further offenses against Yugi and I," he began. "Yugi is my consort and their Magistrate. That is a fact. If I told them a second time to show Yugi respect and that there is no forgiveness for anyone who defies him, there can be no doubt that the harassment will cease immediately."

Rhebekka didn't respond. She didn't need to—the answer hung in the air between them like a mocking ghost.

Rhebekka hesitated. "My Trierarch…"

"I know, Rhebekka," Timaeus said. "But I promised him I wouldn't interfere. Even if I do… the crew already thinks him unfit to be my consort. As my Magistrate, he will hold the second-most-powerful position in Locri, and share the fourth-most-powerful position in all of Atlantis. He will attend to political and military affairs in my absence, and will be responsible for the care and aid of my people on a daily basis. He has the experience to do so, and you and I both know that he can, but all that will count as nothing if he is overwhelmed by mere sailors…" he growled, voice subdued in anguish—the railing splintering even further under the force of his grip. "Yugi must show that he can overcome such matters himself, or lose all credibility and standing before the men, the monarchy, and my people."

"But does he know that, Timaeus?" Rhebekka queried with an incredulous snap.

"He knows what the position entitled—" Timaeus began, but then she cut him off with a loud smack of her palms against the wood of the banister.

"That is not what I meant, and you know it!" she snapped. Anxious fingers scratched at the wood like a furious cat sharpening its claws. "God's teeth, Timaeus, why won't you talk to him? Why won't you talk to each other? Listen to him, forgive each other, become friends again—"

"I have," he cut her off again, his tone sharp and brooking no further argument. "I've spoken with him again and again..." His tone was more tired than angry. A sigh exploded through his nose and he wearily continued. "I promised him that I would not interfere and I did not just mean with the men. He wants our marriage to succeed, so the next step must be his."

He descended the forecastle steps without another word.

Rhebekka watched him go, and suppressed the urge to scream.

So hope this chapter fit all the promises i made with last one and gave you all a lot to think about ;)

And i just want to say how bad ass was Ryou this chapter? I LOVE writing him like this, he's such a strong character and yet all of that gets swept under the rug in most FanFics it seems so i was very proud of how he came out this chapter, it literally wrote himself!

Now, because of the lateness of this chapter, i hope to get the next chapter finished and updated this weekend (if i can get past this one part that I'm totally blocked on! UGH!) and of course Work leaves me the hell alone! But we'll see! So wish me luck! until then...

As always, read, review, critique, comment, rant, ask questions, post your theories and go nuts!

NEXT UPDATE: The goal is October 17th

NEXT TIME: The multiple storms breweing have reached a standstill, and Rhebekka's beyond fed-up. Timaeus is at his wits end and when the final storm breaks Yugi finds himself thrust into a position that will test all of his resolve. Any theories? NEXT TIME!