So how's our favorite Pharaoh doing?" Pale, almost ghostly hands wrapped around his neck as Ryou peered over his shoulder.
Yugi knew he was taking a rather large chance at getting his friend into trouble by meeting him at the local library. But he couldn't help it. Ryou was the only one who understood. The only one who cared. He couldn't bear to be separated from him with so much riding on the court hearing that was coming up in two days.
He grinned at the white-haired teen's exuberance. "You just want to know what your favorite thief is up to, don't you?"
"Yeah," a chuckle. "C'mon man, give me a break. It's not every day that I get a character based off my life. So sue me if I'm a little excited." Ryou's hands disappeared from his shoulders and an instant later the white-haired teen flopped into a comfortable chair beside him.
"Okay, okay…right now he's just being his old smart-ass self. But he did manage to sneak past the guards and steal one of the priests' charms before running head-first into the Pharaoh himself."
Ryou raised a delicate brow. "Oh…and how well did that meeting go?!"
He smirked. "How do you think it went?!"
"I think they tried to kill each other and neither of them succeeded or this book wouldn't end anything like the true to life version. Can't you control your character a little more? He's so egotistical it isn't even funny! And don't laugh – I read that last chapter right after you wrote it. You know what I'm talking about."
"Egotistical?! Ha! I would have to say that your thief is the one with the arrogance. He's the one sneaking into the middle of a heavily guarded palace with no plans other than to wreak havoc and disappear. What, does he have a death wish or something?" He retorted.
Ryou sat back, pursing his lips. "Yeah, I guess he does. I can't help but think that maybe, if their beginnings were just the slightest bit different, that they might have ended up as friends. Maybe it's just my wishful thinking, or something."
The white-haired teen's expression became serious. "Promise me you'll publish this story. Something about it…I dunno, it just…maybe it's the way you tell it…but it's so familiar…just promise me you'll tell the whole story. You know, in case something happens…" Ryou shrugged with a blush, not understanding where the thought came from. "Just make something of yourself, go to college, tell these bastards to fuck off! You deserve it." He finished lamely, attempting to cover up his confused emotions.
"Promise." Yugi held out a hand.
All their plans, all their dreams. Gone. But he would keep that promise. And the others as well.
Hastily Yugi wiped the moisture from his eyes. Why couldn't there have been an alternative? Maybe somewhere between being a tennis ball volleyed back and forth among the different foster cares and being isolated in this lonely little house with absolutely no one but himself for company. Why couldn't the judge have let him take Ryou with him when he left?
If just one person had thought to ask him what he wanted, or for that matter, what Ryou wanted. If just one person had cared enough. But no, life wasn't like that. And he was angry and bitter, and it sucked.
What he wanted? What did he want?! Yugi resentfully pondered the question that had all but consumed his sanity over the past couple of days. What he wanted was simple. He wanted to tell his parents not to go on that last dig in the Valley of the Kings.
Bittersweet memories suddenly flooded his brain. Hazy mental pictures of happy times sitting around a fire as an ancient, white-haired story-teller brought some of the most interesting legends to life with words and gestures. Memories of smiling faces and good morning kisses before his parents would leave him in the care of the village elders, to learn of their history and folklore as they explored the tombs and caves around the villages.
Memories of a kindly old man with faded amethyst eyes who grinned at his attempts to mimic those story tellers with words that he barely understood himself. Memories of knowing who he was and what he liked to do. Another tear escaped its confines to roll casually down his face.
But that time of happiness was long gone, brought about by a plane crash that killed both of his parents while he was stuck in school in America, living with a close friend of his father who was asked to watch over him. His grandfather was never found. And many assumed the old man was dead as well. Unfortunately, since his father's friend was a bachelor he was seen as unfit in the eyes of the court to adopt a child of eleven.
Ever since his first night stuck in a strange house with a bunch of strange people, with no one to turn to other than himself he began to write tales of his own, pouring his knowledge of foreign legend and a little imagination into the words he wrote.
And as he wrote about some of the lesser known legends he researched the never forgotten Pharaoh, searching out every written word, reliving every passed down tale of the ill-fated royal, patching together bits and pieces of what he thought might have been the real story of a young man's life by dissecting every bit of information on the subject.
He wanted to tell his grandfather he was sorry for breaking the vase when he was running through his apartment when he was eight. He wanted to thank his father's friend for trying to adopt him.
Most of all he wanted to undo the past eight years of his life. To never know the insecurities of being moved from house to house in search of a family with enough space to accommodate just one more foster child. But if he couldn't have any of those wishes, then he at least wanted to be able to tell Ryou that he would come back for him. That he would fight for him.
But he never had the chance. The gentle white haired teen that he had come to know quite well over the past year and a half had hung himself in the basement of the foster care that they had both been sent to not even a day after the judge's decision.
Three days ago. So unfair! Why Ryou?!
He couldn't condemn his friend for leaving him here by himself. He completely understood Ryou's need to be free of it all. That was the worst part. He knew the exact reasons why his quiet, shy friend climbed up on the chair and wrapped the rope around the heating duct.
He understood why Ryou pushed the chair over after he wound the rope around his neck. They were the same reasons he had considered the exact same way out time and time again.
o ~ O ~ o
Isis traced the outline of the cherished face, her hand never quite touching the calm waters of the pool. What was taking them so long? Re's conferences never lasted more than a couple of hours at the most. He was quite probably the most tight-lipped individual she had ever come across. Was he not able to convince the others that this was a matter of utmost importance?!
She stood and paced the cavern, her eyes skating over the long since memorized nooks and crannies that shaped this desolate place where she and the other gods came to look in on the human realm. She knew that what she was asking verged on the impossible, but they had to try. They had to…
A flash of light illuminated the torch lit cavern and she braced herself for defeat as she turned to hear what her superior had to say.
"I have spoken with the ruling god. He has agreed to your request… as has Ptah"
Her eyes widened. "…So this means…?"
"You may alter his past. But only his, not Set's…at least not intentionally. Many of the others feel he is deserving of his fate, as do I…but the way I see it, their fates are intertwined…"
Isis blinked. Was Re saying what she thought he was? To interfere in ones, but not the other's…not intentionally…He was giving her complete permission! With a large grin plastered on her face, the normally stoic goddess launched herself at a surprised Re.
"Oh thank you! You have no idea what this means!"
"I was not finished." Re reprimanded her even as he patted her back. "What happened before still needs to be. They will still need to be two halves instead of a whole. It is up to you how you accomplish that without shredding part of his soul."
Isis grinned widely. "I have just the incentive for this situation. If you would allow me a little creative license –"
"You may choose the method of interference. But you cannot alert Apophis to your plan. As far as he is to know his task is to face the same situation that he had before. We shall all lend you the power to make sure this remains so."
"I truly appreciate…" Isis bowed formally.
"There is no time for prevarication, my dear. I think your charge is about to do something immutable!" Re's words struck a chord of fear in the Goddess' heart and she turned towards the pool, intent on stopping time if need be to prevent the young one from doing something foolish…
o ~ O ~ o
Amethyst eyes once again sought out the clock, widening when their owner realized what the time was. He couldn't afford another black mark after his name – regardless of the fact that he really didn't want to go to this class. And he was off, snatching up his coat and his backpack, flying out the door and down the stairs drying his tears as he ran.
He raced down the street and around the corner, stopping only to check once both ways before crossing the busy intersection. Finding a lull in the traffic he scooted across on the 'do not walk' signal and sprinted through the parking lot of the university's Arthur Seelye memorial building, which housed several of his classes.
Throwing open the heavy double doors he bolted down the hall and skidded to a stop just inside the classroom, soaking wet and shivering from more than the cold alone. It was time to push the past back to, well, to the past. He needed to concentrate on his pledge to Ryou. If he dwelled on the futility of it all he would be the next person on the coroner's table, and their story would never be told.
"So nice of you to join us Mr. Mutou. If you would be so kind as to hand in your assignment from last week…" The elderly teacher glared over the top of his glasses at him.
Yugi cringed mentally as he rifled through his backpack with shaky hands. Damn. He had only rewritten it a dozen times before concentrating on the book his publishing company was expecting in the next couple of months. Would it be good enough for Mr. Perfect? Or would it be another failing grade just for a couple of grammatical errors?
If Yugi was honest with himself he would realize that he hadn't exactly put his heart into the paper. That had already been lost to the trilogy that he was in the middle of publishing and if not that, then lost in the memories that he was still in danger of drowning in.
He handed over the paper with trembling hands.
"Thank you. Now you may take your seat. And I expect you to be on time Thursday."
He nodded, unspeaking and moved to the back of the class, settling in for what would probably be one of the most boring hours of his life. Within minutes sleep deprivation set in to the monotone sounds of the lecture in progress, and before he knew it the class was finished…
Yugi awoke to the sounds of chairs scraping the floor as the rest of the students filed out of the room. Hastily he stuffed his books into his backpack, wanting to draw as little attention to himself as possible.
"Mr. Mutou, may I speak with you for a moment?"
Yugi froze in the middle of rearranging his backpack. This he did not need.
"Y-yeah…s-sure." Damn. Could anything else possibly go wrong today?
Gathering his belongings he plodded to the front of the room with all the willingness of a prisoner marching to his execution. Standing in front of the desk, Professor Elder waited patiently, holding a piece of paper in his hands. More than likely it was his – and more than likely not good enough. Yugi sighed. He stopped at the side of the desk, head bowed, waiting to be told that he was no longer able to take the class.
"Yugi, may I be frank?"
Yugi nodded miserably. Please, feel free. Tell me I'm a fuck-off and you don't want to spend any more time trying to teach someone who can't learn.
"This is not the type of work I expect from you. I expect better." Elder waved the papers around in his hand. "Much better. Someone who is able to come up with such an enthralling novel as you did is definitely able to piece together something better than this trash-"
Yugi's head shot up in complete shock, eyeing the old man as if he had grown a second head.
"-Yes, I know it was you. You accidentally left me a couple of pages from your book when you turned in your pre-class assignment. Destiny Preordained is a brilliant piece of work. I just don't understand why you can't seem to bring the same brilliance to your class-work. Is something wrong? Are you having personal issues that would prevent…?"
Yugi closed his eyes, feeling the tears as they worked their way past his eyelids, the pressure inside his chest almost too much to bear. Personal issues?!
…"I'm sorry Mr. Mutou, although I believe whole heartedly that you can care for yourself, you are not capable of caring for another teen. It is just not possible at this moment. I'm going to have to deny your request."
The gavel sounded heavily around the courtroom. Yugi glanced back to see how his friend was taking the devastating news. Ryou's chocolate colored eyes were shining with suppressed tears. Yugi opened his mouth to say something. Anything. But before he could utter a single word, the other teen's legal foster parents shepherded him into the aisle and out of the room.
Amethyst eyes dropped to the floor in absolute defeat…
That was the last time he had seen his friend alive. And it was tearing him apart. He couldn't take it anymore! Promise or no promise he couldn't do this! Tears fell from his eyes and the backpack hit the floor as the diminutive teen tore off out of the classroom, oblivious to the elderly man's cries for him to return.
Yugi shot out of the building and across the parking lot, his lungs burning as the tears slipped from his eyes. He skirted a car that was pulling out of its spot and ran on across the grass beside the walkway. He couldn't do this. He couldn't live like this. On he ran, oblivious to the cars that traveled that stretch of road well in excess of the posted 35mph.
Without a thought Yugi bolted out into the street…
o ~ O ~ o
Sharp, intensely focused scarlet eyes took stock of the surrounding scenery, his footsteps light and soundless in the silent morn as he stalked his prey. Pharaoh Atemu, son of Akhnumkhanan, Beloved of Re, The Morning and Evening Star, Ruler of the Two Lands, The Living Horus – and so many other titles that half the time the seventeen year old monarch forgot what they were – had finally found the time to do something that he enjoyed.
His expression changed to one of distaste as he recalled all tasks that he should have endeavored to complete on this beautiful day. But Re had blessed them with the perfect weather for a hunt and that was what he planned on doing, regardless of his council's unwanted opinions. He couldn't stand another minute listening to their constant demands. Even he deserved a day off.
He notched an arrow, readying his bow just in case he were to come across a duck, or another family of quails that always hid in the underbrush of the marshy area. They already had enough for a grand feast, but he didn't want to go back yet. Not yet.
Out here he could forget. Forget who he was supposed to be – who he should have been, and what people wanted from him. Here he could finally be who he really was. He could believe for a moment that he was still living in the quaint little village that he grew up in, believe that his mother still breathed, still lived.
For a moment he considered what would happen should he fail to return to the palace. It wasn't like anyone of consequence would actually miss him. In fact he knew of at least two or three council members who would most certainly rejoice in his disappearance. As for the rest of them…Well, most of his nobles figured him to be an impostor, a fraud, anyway, so he doubted they would care either way. And he would be all the happier if he never had to set foot –
CRACK!
Atemu cringed at the obnoxious noise that had disrupted his train of thought, his slanted, kohl-lined eyes pinning the culprit in his place with a well-aimed glare.
"S-sorry your Highness…it-it won't happen again…" came the whispered response to his fiery glare.
If it had been anyone other than…Atemu sighed and shook it off, readying his bow again, edging around some of the reeds and willows, knowing full well that his favorite guard had already managed to alert any intelligent wildlife in the area to the presence of a predator. Damn it, he wasn't ready to return! If it were up to him he would never go back.
Just the thought of never having to deal with any of those people again would be peace enough for him. Throughout most of his life at the palace he had been told how to act, what to say – and in what tone to say it – whom he may associate with, how to eat, drink, bathe, breathe. What difference did it matter if he had been brought up differently than what they deemed acceptable?
A thrashing sounded from the other side of the dense foliage, nearer towards the muddy waters, followed by the sounds of squawking, shaking the young royal into immediate awareness and Atemu raised the bow a little higher, aiming at where he thought his prey would emerge from its cover. Perhaps Jonoh hadn't scared off every animal; there were always those with very little higher brain function.
He drew back his bow as the sounds of flapping caught his ears and just as he was about to let the arrow fly, a terrified scream sounded from the other side of the brush. The shot flew wide right of the intended target as the Pharaoh bolted in the direction of the noise, fearing that some child had gotten caught by one of the many predators known to hunt in the area, his guards hot on his heels.
"Pr-aA!"
Atemu tore through the underbrush, as yet another terrified shriek cut through the silence, and he changed direction again, searching for the source of the cries even as he reached to withdraw the deadly looking dagger from the sheathe tied around his waist. He parted the brush in front of him with his bow just as a child of no more than twelve stumbled into the clearing, dropping to the ground nearly at his feet. Heart pounding against his chest, the young Pharaoh reached for the boy.
"Pr-aA! Don't touch him! He could be cursed!" A guard shouted as the group stampeded into the clearing, surrounding their god incarnate and shielding him from danger.
But Atemu wasn't listening.
Atemu lifted the boy into his arms and was rewarded with a soft groan and a slight opening of what had to be the most exotic shade of blue eyes he had ever seen. They were so true they were almost amethyst in color. But just as suddenly, those gorgeous eyes closed as the boy took a shuddering breath and Atemu was left wondering at the injuries he had sustained.
The young Pharaoh looked over the small boy in his arms, pulling at the vibrantly colored cloth that covered his body. The strange clothing was torn and ripped in places, dried blood on the sleeves and pants. The boy had visible bruises on his arms and chest but no obvious cuts or abrasions. Whatever happened to the unconscious youth in his arms, it was a complete mystery to him. It looked as though he might have been trampled by a chariot, yet there was no place for miles suitable for one's use.
But what he did see appealed to him greatly. This youth had the mark of great beauty, even though it did look as if he had gone through a rough patch. Soft, wildly colored hair, not unlike the Pharaoh's tricolored locks swirled around a face that was beautiful beyond compare. Not even the dark circles detracted from the sheer perfection of the boy's pale skin.
"Pr-aA!"
Atemu snapped from his admiration, realizing that his guards were trying desperately to attract his attention without getting right in his face. A grimace settled over his exotic features when he realized that they had, yet again, found fault with his actions.
"Yes?" A delicate eyebrow rose.
"It isn't right…he could be cursed…it could be a trap!" The head of the guards attempted to voice his objection without having caught his breath from the chase.
"Relax Jonoh, I am perfectly fine." Atemu sighed as he gathered the boy to him and stood. "It is time to return. This boy needs to be seen to by the healers."
Jonoh looked for a moment as though he would argue, but the rest of the guards bowed low. Finally the head guard sighed and bowed his head along with the others. "Yes, pr-aA."
Atemu nodded silently and shouldered his way through the group without another comment. He led the entourage back to where they had left the horses, handing the boy over to Jonoh briefly so he could mount. And then they were off.
The fast paced ride back to the city was unusually silent considering how well the hunt had gone. Most of the men were wary of the boy's addition to their group, a few even going so far as to think it was a bad omen. And Atemu, he was considering how best to explain the boy's presence to those he had left at the palace.
Perhaps he wouldn't explain anything at all. He shouldn't have any need to. He was considered a god. Or at least that was what they had tried to drill into his head for the past seven years or so. But being as he had grown up in different circumstances than what was expected of the crown prince, he knew that he would be called on the carpet by at least one or two of his council for his actions today.
As they made their way through the city surrounding the palace, their presence caused quite a stir. People everywhere stopped, stared for a moment and then prostrated themselves before their group as they realized who was riding in their midst. Normally Atemu would acknowledge the villagers actions, but today he was entirely too wrapped up in the unconscious boy lying in his arms. So many questions. And no one to give him any answers.
He prayed to the gods that this gorgeous creature would find the will to live – if only for him to see those glorious eyes once more. Such an exotic shade of blue, a color so rarely seen.
As they drew nearer to the palace Atemu could clearly see that someone had informed his priests of his imminent return. All six of them had lined up on the front steps leading to the entrance hall, along with his chief advisor Siamun, who seemed to have a rather odd, almost melancholy expression on his face, which was so out of character for the elderly man that Atemu couldn't help but groan inwardly at the sight.
What, exactly, had gone so wrong in his absence that required him to be met thusly?
When the group reached the bottom of the stairs he gracefully dismounted and handed the reigns over to his stable boy, careful not to jostle the boy in his arms. He would see to the boy first, and then he would deal with whatever catastrophe had occurred during his absence.
All six priests eyed him warily as he approached, but he bypassed both Seth and Mahaad without a word, heading directly for Isis. The lady dropped to her knees as he reached her side.
"You may rise." He truly hated formality and yet most of his life was nothing but.
"I have prepared a room for our guest, pr-aA. He shall be well cared for."
Atemu smirked. Smart lady. She must have seen the boy he cradled in his arms and guessed what his intentions were. That or she had foreseen this in one of her visions. Either way at least one of his priests gave a care for his personal needs.
As she rose two of her healers came out of the palace intending on taking the boy from his arms but he curtly shrugged them off. "Lead the way."
Isis nodded, unsurprised. But his reaction raised a couple of eyebrows as Akhenaten and Siamun gaped at his refusal to hand over his burden. Oh well, he need not explain his actions to either of them at the moment. There would be time enough for that later – or perhaps it was time for him to assert a little of his authority over them. Was he not Pharaoh?!
After thoroughly ignoring his priests, Atemu followed the priestess deep into the many corridors of the palace. Having spent nearly half of his life roaming the halls of the imposing mud-brick structure he knew most of the secret passageways and shortcuts, but Isis had a particular way of dealing with those who entered her domain and so he decided it would be in the boy's best interest if he let her guide the way. If he wanted to see those eyes open it would be wise of him not to irritate the only person who would willingly help.
Finally, after many long minutes of hearing only their footsteps upon the polished stone floor Isis slid aside a door that led to the healing ward. From there she directed him into another, inner chamber that held a breathtaking view of the royal courtyard. Here she bade him place the boy on a raised mat set up in the corner of the room.
Scarlet-colored eyes questioned her silently as she moved aside to allow her elder healers at the unconscious boy. At the unspoken question she turned to face her young regent. "This child is very important. His presence has been foretold in the scriptures of the past."
"This is a good sign…or no?"
Isis flitted silently around the room, gathering her supplies. When she refused to elaborate Atemu crossed his arms over his chest moodily, raising an eyebrow. With a murmur of apology Isis shooed him from the room, mumbling something about visions and destruction that he was unable to catch more than a word or two of. Figures.
He sighed deeply as he found himself back out in the torch-lit corridor. But he wasn't alone. "What is it you need that would have you stalking me throughout the palace?"
"What were you thinking?!" Akhenaten started in immediately. "You know better than to handle a strange person, let alone welcome them into the palace. You could have brought a curse on all of us!"
Atemu grimaced as he glared at the older man from beneath his lashes. It was apparent that they were going to have to have another one of those discussions. Lately, every time they spoke to each other their conversations degenerated into something more of sparring matches with each side taking pot shots at the other. Not so much with Siamun, whom he had come to look upon as a grandfather figure rather than an advisor, as with Akhenaten. The man refused to acknowledge his place.
And although Atemu was brought up to be respectful of his elders, it was becoming harder and harder to keep the peace between him and this man. The tall, lanky priest had yet to endear himself to the young Pharaoh and the older the teen ruler got, the less he felt like remaining someone else's puppet. Thus resulting in their often loud and sarcastic altercations.
Besides, after they had so brutally torn him from everything that he had ever known and forced him into this position not of his liking, Atemu was well past the point of wanting to cater to the older man's whims for the sake of keeping peace inside of the palace. For his father and Siamun he might have tried. Akhenaten, though, was a different story.
"Now Akhenaten…pr-aA may have had a good reason to do as he did. In any case, we are here for another matter entirely." Saimun rebuffed the taller priest.
"We will discuss that when we are finished –" Akhenaten began snidely.
"Enough," Atemu snarled, drawing himself up to his full height, his head high as he glared at the towering priest. It was time for him to assert his authority over this man, who had for so long controlled his life due to circumstances that were beyond his control. "I will have no more of your questioning my decisions." He lowered his voice a notch out of respect for his elder advisor's shocked look. "I understand why my father has allowed you to aid me as co-ruler until I was of age. But it ends here. You have over-stepped your boundaries time and time again. I will have no more of this nonsense. I am pr-aA! Not you. Me."
At the nasty tone of his voice Akhenaten backed up a step. For a moment it looked as though the priest would argue. But then he bowed low, a smirk gracing his features. "Technically you are nephew, but your true coronation will not be forthcoming until you have completed the coming of age ritual. Yes, you know what I am referring to…however, since we now have the perfect candidate for the ceremony I shall leave you to your fate."
With that the priest stalked from the scene, a vicious chuckle lingering behind him. Atemu slapped a hand to his forehead in irritation. Shit! He had just condemned the unconscious boy in Isis' room to a fate he wouldn't wish on the worst of his enemies. A groan escaped his lips, and he closed his eyes and leaned back against the door, pounding his head against it twice for good measure.
"Pr-aA. Your father's tomb has been defiled. It was discovered when we sent Seth out with our weekly offering –"
"What?" Atemu's ruby eyes widened as he remembered that the elderly advisor had news to impart. He had nearly forgotten that Siamun was there as silent as the older man had been throughout his tirade.
"– we were able to salvage most of the possessions that he will need for the afterlife. Seth is sorting out his scrolls in the library. He will inform us of what is missing when that task is finished."
The young Pharaoh could have torn his hair out in frustration. There was only one person brave – or stupid – enough to ignore the warnings on that tomb. Bakura! Damn it! His father's resting place was supposed to have been completely secure. There were things in there that were better off buried beneath the sands, as the former Pharaoh had requested.
"Gather my guards. I want to survey the damage first hand. We will ride as Re's journey begins."
Siamun nodded before scurrying off to ready the soldiers for their journey. And Atemu went back to banging his head against the wall. What a day this was turning out to be.