Disclaimer: Don't own anything.
Chapter 2
Because I Just Do
"As Ra rose into the sky, the young prince was crowned king of his land. He had everything he could possibly wish for except the love of his childhood friend…"
"Yuugi-kun," a gentle voice broke through the sub-fantasy world Yuugi had created for his grandfather. The young man looked up. His faraway glaze disappeared. He dropped his grandfather's hand and turned. His face hinted a rosy shade of red.
"Mizuge-sensei," Yuugi immediately stood up.
"What a beautiful story you were telling."
Yuugi blushed. "Jii-chan wanted me to tell him a story." The boy confessed.
"Unfortunately your grandfather fell asleep some time ago, Yuugi-kun."
"He's not in very good health."
"His heart's failing him, Yuugi." The young doctor stated, half-looking at the young man. She had heard a lot about this extraordinary boy. Seeing him now, she couldn't bring herself to believe the stories.
"I know. He's old, but he's all I have left." Yuugi sniffed. Uncomfortably he turned around to wipe away his tears. "I'm so sorry. What you must think of me?" Yuugi feebly smiled.
"Yuugi-kun…" the doctor started.
"Huh? Yes," the boy turned around. He cocked his head.
"Never mind," the doctor shook her head. "You should go on home. Visiting hours end in a few more minutes."
Yuugi nodded.
Noticing the young man wanted so privacy, the young doctor exited.
A small smile appeared on his lips. "She's a nice doctor, Jii-chan. But if she's the reason you won't leave the hospital and get well… well then I'll never forgive you, Jii-chan," he teased.
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It was a long, cold walk home.
It was almost winter. Yuugi hated the cold. It reminded him too much of bitter times.
Few of the shops along the way were still lit. Judging by the amount of light left, Yuugi gauged it was well past midnight. He wondered what his friends were doing.
He absentmindedly shifted the weight of his backpack, reminding himself of the pile of homework that was still sitting on his desk waiting to be completed. At least he didn't have classes the next day.
As he rounded the corner to the business district where his grandfather's shop and his current living arrangement was located, he was greeted by the exhilarating neon skylights that lit up the words 'Club Krystal'. It was a haven for the rich and the poor, a place to forget about society's mandates and to blend in with the anonymous.
He still remembered that particular day he found the club. It was when his grandfather had his first stroke. He had exited the hospital after hours of waiting in that cold, hard, disinfectant room. He didn't have anywhere to go. Society felt so useless. He felt so alone and forgotten. He remembered walking around the city for hours, losing himself in the everyday when somebody handed him a flyer. Normally, he would have thrown it away as soon as someone handed it to him. Yet fate had another plan that day. The bold, neon colors attracted him… 'it was a gem in the most unlikely of places'.
That was the night he first remembered the taste of alcohol, and the feeling of human flesh. He like many others became addicted.
"What the hell," Yuugi mumbled. He dug into his back pocket and drew out his wallet. It had been a rotten day. Some more social injustices wouldn't hurt.
He flashed his ID at the door. It was an awful picture. It had been raining. His hair always went limp in the rain.
A particular gruff security guard waved him in.
Like always, Club Krystal was infested with a strange array of couples; some looked simply ridiculous together. Others didn't fit the scenario, too prime and well groomed to be found in a bar. Yuugi edged through the many tables that formed a 'V' around dance floor. A highly acclaimed jockey was shuffling the songs. He was the type of person who liked making every eighth note particularly loud.
Dancing wasn't his thing. He rarely danced, mainly only for Anzu when she wanted a dance partner. She always said he had a rare, foreign sway to his movements, and it appealed to her. Yuugi always blushed at that comment.
He found a seat on a barstool, furthest from the lime light. It was one of those seats that allowed the customers to watch the bartender make the drinks. Jounouchi used to warn him about 'never taking anything without watching it being made first'.
He brushed away his blonde bangs. Lately they had a habit of sagging across his face. He set his bag on the table and waited to be served. Only then did he realize how crowded the counter was. Normally very few people seated themselves on stools, most found fancy on the dance floor.
There was a new bartender this time, a young male around Yuugi's age. Yuugi had never seen him before. He had a strange touch to him. His skin gave off a strange bronze hue despite the cool temperature. Most of all, the other was strangely intoxicating. His hands flowed as he worked his magic.
Seems popular. Yuugi mentally noted. Whether from the males or the females, this new youth was catching a lot of attention. He had a way with bottles and alcohol. They all seemed to easily mash together. He swayed a lot. His face had this strange, forlorn yet excited touch to it… it was an expression that Yuugi couldn't pinpoint.
"Hey, Partner."
"P…partner," Yuugi sputtered. A small blush formed across his cheeks. He gulped down a dry ball in the back of his throat. A pair of crimson red eyes peered down at him. Yuugi nervously moved back. "You western or something?"
"Nah," there was a strange exotic accent in the young bartender's voice. "So what delight or passions can I fulfill for you tonight?" the man questioned.
His blush deepened despite knowing it was Club Krystal's pick up line. "A…a… Exotic Fantasy."
"Exotic fantasy huh," the other purred. A smirk crossed his face.
"Yeah." Yuugi whispered. The young bartender grinned. Slowly, he skid backwards. As he walked over to his bottles of magic, he playfully winked at Yuugi. His face reddened.
It seemed like hours of anxious waiting before a cold glass slipped into his hands. Yuugi looked up. His eyes still dazed over. He had a strange, soft smile on his lips.
A pair of strong arms lightly wrapped around his waist. A moan left his lips. A pair of crimson eyes snaked around his neck. "Yo, partner."
"Hi."
"So, what's your story, Partner?"
"Story?" Yuugi's brow furrowed.
"Yeah story," the other pulled back. He lazily leaned back on the stool and crossed his legs… in a strangely royal manner. "Everyone who enters those doors has a story. Whether they are interesting or not, I've heard a whole bucket load. So what's your story Partner?"
"What's up with calling me partner?" Yuugi asked, playfully. "You call all your customers that?"
"Nope," the other simply stated. A small smirked formed across his lips.
"Then what's with it?"
"I bet everyone calls you one name right?"
"Yeah."
"Exactly!" The bartender punched his fists together. "I don't want to call you what everyone else calls you. Only fair, right?" The young man winked.
Yuugi smiled. It had been a long time since he last, sincerely smiled. "You're really strange, you know that. Not very creative, but strange."
"Everyone has a strange gene in their bodies." The man smirked. He slowly slipped his hand across Yuugi's leg. The other flinched. A little startled by the other's touch. It aroused him in a way… a way that felt familiar… like from a dream… or a dream of a dream.
The other grinned.
"You have beautiful eyes."
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"Hi Jii-chan," Yuugi chirped. He set his jacket to the side before sitting down on his chair. The chair he always sat in.
"You seem happy."
Yuugi chose to ignore the remark, instead found interest in a particular piece of lint that was sticking to his jeans.
Noticing his grandson's gaze, a small smile formed on Sugoroku's tired face. "Continue that story for yesterday?"
"Jii-chan, it's a silly story."
"Do continue, for me? A tired old man?"
"You're an evil old man then," Yuugi hissed pretending to be angry.
"Well…since the young pharaoh's coronation; he ruled Egypt with a heavy hand. The raids, which had killed his father, ceased. Like his empire had wished for, prosperity and peace claimed the land. Everyday he barked his orders… cold and hard. Bitter that he couldn't have what he wanted.
"Then, like what spring stood for, the time of rebirth, the pharaoh's childhood friend returned from his two year studies at the temple. He returned like a fiery candle, shimmering and hot, back into the pharaoh's life…
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"Key Wi."
The pharaoh turned his head, startled. A pair of exhilarating eyes met him halfway. The same eyes he had been dreaming about seeing.
"You okay?"
"Why you ask?" the pharaoh questioned, particularly gruff. He clenched a scroll of papyrus. The sound of it breaking under stress was clearly evident.
"You stopped writing to me."
He didn't answer. He glanced away before quickly turning back. "Your point is?"
"I…" the young priest-in-training mumbled. "I was really worried about you when your father died."
"Your letters sure didn't show it!" The pharaoh snapped. A slight scowl developed on his lips.
"Key Wi, for security purposes! We've been friends for years! Your father is practically like my father!" The boy shouted, aspirated.
"It's Per-a'a."
"What?" The boy stepped back. He raised his eyebrows.
"I'm the pharaoh of Kemet now, not your Key Wi! Don't you understand! We have lives! Roles we're suppose to fulfill! You're a priest-in-training! I'm the pharaoh! I can't show favoritism among my priests! The empire will crash!"
"I… Key Wi-"
"Stop it!" The pharaoh roared, slamming the papyrus roll onto the table.
The young priest-in-training flinched. "Key Wi!"
"Damn it! Don't think I won't execute you!"
The boy looked at his friend in surprise. "What in Ra's name has gotten into you?"
"Get out!"
"But!"
"Get out, Wa'eb Ii!"
"O…okay." The boy smiled gently. He understood his friend's moods. Since they were young, the pharaoh would get particularly annoyed when things didn't go his way. "We'll talk when you get better, Key … I mean Per-a'a."
The pharaoh growled. He felt his breath quickening. "I don't need your help! Go back to your books! Your studies! You always did adore them."
The boy just nodded. "I'll be here," the boy promised and slipped out of the room.
The pharaoh glared at the closed door. Seeing the pile of papyrus rolls, he growled. Yelling out, he overturned the oak table. The bottle of ink shattered, leaving a trail of black water behind. The pharaoh noticed not. He kicked the side of the table before sliding to the wall… all etiquette lost.
He hated politics.
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Another fruitless meeting…
His childhood friend slipped away as soon at the meeting was over. He had simply nodded at the pharaoh in formality, never meeting his gaze.
These days the young priest-in-training found new friends to talk to.
The pharaoh scowled, watching as his friend laughed at something Seto had said. He broke into a bashful look when Mahado pointed at something on his collar. He growled watching them walk away.
It had been months since the young priest-in-training's return from the temple. Since the day, the pharaoh foolishly threatened to execute his friend. At first, the priest-in-training had gone out of his way to smile at the Pharaoh or even made sure the cooks made his favorite meal. When the pharaoh didn't turn his gratitude and even snapped at him for bribery and threatened to execute him once more, the young boy stopped trying.
He stopped trying to make conversation and like everyone else in the palace started calling him Per-a'a.
By the time the pharaoh had realized the power of his Sennen Puzzle, it was already too late. He didn't have to marry a princess from some exotic land. The boy's childhood scolding seemed so mocking now 'you got to study, Key Wi.'
He had tried making amends, but every time he tried starting a conversation he always got tongue-tied and the result was worse than the beginning. So instead he did everything else. He amended the laws to let priests-in-training who had completed their trials at the temple attend government meetings. He made sure chocolate was a dish for at least one meal a day. He even allowed the boy a bigger suite which was only given to priests after they completed their trials. He conveniently had Mahado spray the boy's room with bug repellent that left a nasty odor for weeks claiming he didn't want flies in the palace.
But next week was the young priest's-in-training birthday. The pharaoh had been working hard in the kitchens and with his advisers to plan a birthday celebration for the boy. He wanted something special for the boy's birthday. It was also the same day as the summer solstices. The palace and the villagers would be celebrating the coming of summer with the annual summer festivities. As young children, they had always enjoyed mingling with the crowd, and this year the pharaoh was planning to combine the two events together.
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"Nice decorations."
The pharaoh flinched, the voice was so quiet and sudden amiss the celebrations that he almost wondered if he had really heard it. He looked around at the young priest-in-training. In a twist of 'fate', he was one of the pharaoh's bodyguards throughout the night. The rest had wandered off in different intervals throughout the night.
"The royal decorators out did themselves," the pharaoh said, just as quietly.
"Must have been a huge amount out of the royal surplus," the young man chided.
Even now, after so many years, the pharaoh still couldn't outwit the other in political and economical matters. He always found them boring. He rather fill his time with other things.
"Always the brilliant one."
"No, I live in the palace," the boy corrected.
"Many of my advisors don't see it. They rarely correct my errors."
"It's a shame. You make so many."
The pharaoh's eyes narrowed. He gripped the edge of his cap to keep himself from losing his temper. "You're not modest are you?"
"Modesty is not a strong characteristic."
"It does well when speaking to the pharaoh."
"A pharaoh is merely a name, a title. It takes more than blood to become a pharaoh."
"Are you questioning my rule?" the pharaoh spat. Reconciliation could wait.
The other sighed. "Why must everything be a fight with you?"
The pharaoh's eyes softened. Had he not known the other for a long enough time, he would have believed the boy was part of an assassination group. "So, how are you?" The pharaoh questioned, moving the subject away from the decorations.
The priest-in-training had opened his mouth to say something else, but a small smile formed on his lips. "I'm good, you?"
The pharaoh caught the smile. It was a small opening, but an opening never the less. "N… not so good."
"Pity."
"A long time ago I had a friend who would always push me to study my scrolls, so someday I can be an honorable and good pharaoh. I never listened to him till it was too late. I did something terrible, and I want to reconcile with him. Only problem is, he doesn't want to forgive me."
His knuckles were turning white. "I…"
"Wa'eb Ii! Per-a'a!"
The pharaoh hissed, swearing he would execute whoever dared to interrupt his conversation. The elder Shimon and Karim appeared. "Priest Karim, Royal Courtier Shimon," the young priest-in-training acknowledge. He pulled himself in front of the pharaoh, completely avoiding the pharaoh's words.
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The palace was quiet. Small balls of light continued to flicker from the village celebration. The only sound present was the young priest-in-training's constant pacing across the golden floors. He had slipped away from the festivities during the annual bonfire.
"I mean. I should hate him right? He ruined everything, my future, my chances, and my life." The young man flashed his eyes over at Mahado, who just pursed his lips refusing to speak. "He crushed everything. He thinks he's everything, just because he's the pharaoh he can throw his weight around."
Mahado crossed his arms; his lips still pursed.
"He's always been arrogant. Even when we were children, he never studied. Doesn't he understand the importance of being the pharaoh? He thinks it's all about power and prestige, having people cower in your presence," he continued. "Half his policies don't make sense. His meetings are fruitless. Doesn't he understand that Kemet's peaceful years won't always last?"
Mahado looked down at his hands. A small wince appeared on his face.
"Now he wants reconciliation? He thought I had betrayed him. My letters weren't emotional enough. He thinks all I do is study. I mean I shouldn't even pay attention to him right? I should just ignore him. When I pass my priesthood test, I'll just leave the palace and become a priest at Memphis. The chief is getting old. If I work hard and show my worth, I could become the next chief."
Mahado sighed.
"So why do I want to do the opposite?" the young man cried. He clenched his fist and glaze up at the ceiling. "Why do I want to go out there right now and ask if he wants to race across the desert? Play a game of Senet?"
"Because you are you," Mahado stated gently. "You always want to see the good in everyone. Per-a'a was your childhood friend. You grew up together. In your mind, you see Per-a'a as that little boy who used to beg you to play games with him. The boy who persuaded you to skip lessons on numerous occasions and hide in pots to listen in on the past king's diplomatic meetings."
The young priest-in-training groaned, falling onto the window ledge next to Mahado. "We were such good friends then, before I left for my training."
"The terrible early adolescent years, I'm sure Per-a'a won't appreciate me telling you this, but his moods were getting worse long before your return. It's the years of raging hormones and high emotions." Mahado shook his head. "I remember my own. You were too young to remember probably. There were days when I thought everything in the world was against me. Nobody could make me happy. I despised the world."
"He's so intolerable though, besides it's been years. You grew out of it. I grew out of it. Even if you are right about mood swings, he should have figured it out by now right?"
"Actually is takes some people a lot longer. Look at Seto. He's still has arrogant and vain as when he was a child. I'm surprised he absolved so easily. Your skills are superior to his."
"Nonse..." The young man's face paled…
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"Congratulations, Kid."
The young priest-in-training frowned. He looked up from his scroll to find Seto standing over his, one hand on his hip, the other clasped around his Sennen Rod. The young man sighed, lowering his eyes back onto the scroll.
Completely unfazed by the boy's lack of emotions, Seto skid onto the other's bed. He found it especially soft and much better condition than his own. "Nice bed."
The other grunted.
"You saved by idiotic cousin's life. The city is in an uproar, yet I find you hovering over a roll of scrolls."
"I have to study," the boy said warily, his eyes piercing into the papyrus.
"You're going to burn a hole in it." Seto leaned over. "As much as I hate to admit it, your skills have long surpassed mine. My cousin sees your strength. He wants you by his side."
"You've been spending too much time with Mana."
"Fortunately no, she sees everything as some tragic story told by peasants."
The boy snorted. Seto leaned over some more. "Besides in a matter of one fortnight, you have changed Kemet's history. My foolish cousin has allowed you to take your trial-by-priesthood test early. He wants you as his high priest."
"Funny." The boy stated, glaring into the papyrus role. If glares could make fire, a bonfire would have long appeared. Aspirated, Seto tore the scroll from the boy's grasp. "Hey!"
"You're not supposed to be the sarcastic one." Seto stated, holding the scroll out of reach.
"He wants my death," the boy snapped, swinging his leg off the window sill to stand up.
"We are talking still talking about my idiotic cousin right?" He asked, stepping back, so the other couldn't reach.
"Yes. Now give me back my scroll!"
"One whose life you just saved? The one who's the great, all powerful Per-a'a? The one who commissioned for you take your trial-by-priesthood test?"
"Yes," the boy hissed.
"And you think he wants your blood."
The boy rolled his eyes. "You're hopeless and deaf, Seto."
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The pharaoh was never one to make radical decisions. As much as history bored him to death, he always believed in old traditions and laws. In course of one night, he had challenged both. He had challenged the laws of priesthood, the ancient writings of the gods themselves that forbid the rite of priesthood till manhood.
He would be hearing a lot of complaints from his priests and advisors the next day. Akunadin had looked particularly infuriated when he issued his command, but his father had always taught him the importance of gratitude. It was only lesson the old pharaoh had taught his son – the dangers of making enemies.
He had saved his life. Growing up, the pharaoh understood how much the other wanted to be a priest. It was his goal. The reason he studied so much and forgot about fun and games. It made him powerful and gifted enough to save his life.
He glanced around his palace, the magnificence of the palace walls and vastness. He had long gotten used to the hollow halls, lined with paintings of the past dead, royal families. The rolls and rolls of large pots he would hide in, in his youth, to escape his studies.
Normally the halls were not vacant and forlorn. Ra's light usually lit the walls. His advisors, priests, priestesses, servants, and diplomats from neighboring countries to discuss trade and treaty agreements filled the palace. The pharaoh enjoyed these rare moments of quiet and solitude. Ironic, as a child, he much rather spend it in the presence of his friend…
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The conference room was empty except from the lone candle that caste shadows onto the corners of the walls. Occasionally it would land on the forms of a young man and an elder man.
"I've never known you to be so unreasonable Wa'eb Ii. You grew up in the palace with Per-a'a. I instructed you both in lessons of history and law. You've always been an exceptionally bright boy, but what you ask of me now. It's completely unreasonable and absurd." Shimon stated quietly.
The other bit his lips, making sure he glared down at the stone wall instead of at the elder advisor. The other had always seen the older man as a grandfather figure. When he was younger and saw how the pharaoh had parents to run to for comfort, it always nibbled at his heart. It had started with simple smile from the older man when he found him curled up in a ball under his bed. It progressed to physical contact and advice. He gave him the parental love that the pharaoh couldn't give him no matter how much the other tried. It was Shimon who suggested he become a priest, so the two could stay together forever.
"I want to go to Memphis," the boy stated quietly.
"You grew up wanting to be Per-a'a's high priest. I remember watching the two of you play games. You always said 'I'm going to be the best high priest ever'," Shimon continued fondly. The boy glanced up long enough to see a smile.
"I guess." The boy rubbed his fingers together. "But those were childish dreams made when I knew no better. I made friends with the Gods themselves. We were so foolish then, thinking we could stop time, stop our roles in life. Reality caught up with us too quickly." The boy feigned a smile. He shook his head, keeping the tears from flowing. "The chief there is ailing in his years. If I start now, I may win his favor and become the next leader."
"Your skills could prove to be a great asset to the pharaoh, to Kemet, to us all. You saw the assassination attempt on Per-a'a. Kemet's peaceful years are disappearing. The empire is becoming restless. It does not help that Per-a'a hasn't wed yet." Shimon paused, and the other bit his lips.
"I can't help him there."
"I know." Shimon took a deep breath and leaned forward. He lightly set his old, wrinkled hands upon the boy's shoulders. "I've always seen you as a grandson that I could never have. I've taught you. I've seen you grow up into the brilliant man you are. You know I'm not one to make pleas."
The boy nodded quietly, looking to the side as if something, a hint of Per-a'a's kindness had returned. "Please don't."
"Don't be so quick in your actions. Wait till after the trial-by-priesthood test to you announce your decisions," Shimon continued, his words coming out slower.
The boy nodded.
"And if..." Shimon breathed out his words. The candle flickered. "Is there any way to change your mind?"
The boy felt his breath tighten. "I don't know," he whispered the words lost to the times itself.
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The pharaoh wasn't one to spy on others. He found it low and cowardly, but when he heard Shimon and his affection's conversing in the conference room, he forced himself to stop.
His breath quickened.
He never realized just how severely he had damaged his friend. He pushed himself against the walls. Could he ever make amends for his errors?
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It was a beautiful night, but it seemed as if all the warmth from the air had been sapped by the flames made by his priests. The tension in the air was thick and kept the mood cold and sharp. The pharaoh tightened his clasp around the reins of his white steed. His six chosen priests by his father who bore the remaining six Sennen Items were seated next to him. Their eyes lingered into the deep, murky oasis. Occasionally sparks of light penetrated the night sky. The pharaoh counted them- seven was needed for the boy to pass, but if the pharaoh knew anything about the other. He knew the boy wouldn't stop till he got all ten.
The lights of the palace glowed in the background. The servants had been up since dawn preparing from the feast.
A snaring and persistent grip tightened around his heart. The previous day's events were still unforgettable, a neighboring king's message for a request of betrothal to his only daughter and child.
The pharaoh had seen the girl numerous times. She was a fair child, barely experiencing thirteen growing seasons- pure and unblemished. In the advisor's minds, they were the perfect match. The king was an elder man- a conservative and traditionalist. His throne would pass down to his daughter's husband thus increasing Kemet's lands.
It was a strategic marriage. One he had been taught to accept since his birth.
It infuriated him.
"Per-a'a look!" Isis's words cut through the bitter air.
One, two three, four sparks burst into the air. A rare smile appeared on the pharaoh's face.
The boy had passed.
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The pharaoh had been acting weird all night.
Well, the young priest corrected himself, weirder than normal. Since his sudden announcement for promoting him to the level of high priest, the pharaoh had been acting sullen and quiet. He had been blending into the background instead of interacting with the crowd.
He finally slipped away from the multitude of people pledging their congratulations and toasting to his longevity. The hypocrisy of it all made him sick. Priesthood seemed like everything else in the world.
"Wait!" The pharaoh's voice cut through the night sky. The boy stopped, biting his lips. "Please." He muttered quietly. The boy frowned. He waited for the pharaoh to match his steps before continuing. The pharaoh understood the other's actions, his need for solitude and allowed the other to determine their final destination.
The boy finally stopped near an artificial pond. Hesitantly, he sat on the cold cement lining. The pharaoh followed suit, his pride momentarily lost. "I… I guess I should I express my gratitude," the boy stammered, licking his lips. "I… I mean. I'm honored that you hold me in such… high esteem."
"You saved my life."
"It's my duty."
"I've been so bitter to you though."
"Yet you are the king, and I am your loyal priest. The trial-by-priesthood test made me realize. I can't be angry with you anymore. You did the right thing. Our roles are on opposite sides of the spectrum."
He swallowed. Slightly he cocked his head, piercing deeper into the night sky. The stars twinkled teasingly overhead. "I haven't seen the stars in a long time," he said quietly.
"You have been busy. Being the pharaoh is not easy."
"They sure made it seem like it."
"Yeah." The other swallowed.
"Our roles in life seem so bitter."
The other frowned, slowly crouching forward. "Why?"
"I'm the pharaoh. You're a priest," he said simply.
The other blinked, staring at him blankly for a moment. He supposed it was true. Their roles determined much in their lives.
"Shimon wants me to marry." The pharaoh stated offhand.
"It's your duty."
"To a princess of our neighboring country."
"Is she pretty?"
"Young, untainted, innocent."
"She'll make a good queen."
"She'll be obedient and loved." The pharaoh grimaced.
The other frowned. "Yet you are so hesitant."
"I guess I'm holding out."
"Oh."
"Yeah." The pharaoh's eyes softened. The young priest suddenly realized how close the two of them were. "Waiting on someone."
"Who?" The boy questioned, suddenly realizing how tight his throat felt.
The pharaoh wet his lips. As he peered into the other's amethyst eyes, full of innocence- the same innocence the boy possessed in his youth, the pharaoh back away. He couldn't do it to him. "What happened to us?" He whispered.
The other raised his eyebrows. He cocked his head and noticed the pharaoh was still staring into the sky. He had a strange tranquil look on his face despite the confusion in his voice. The boy was suddenly transported to their youth, back in the days when they were inseparable. Back when they could laugh at the most pointless things in the world.
"Huh?"
"What happened to us?"
"Us?"
"Yeah."
"We grew up. Found our place in this world. In that manner, you grew up and realized it long before I did."
"No," the pharaoh bit his lips. "I was a coward."
"A coward?"
"When I realized I couldn't have the impossible, I lashed out at the world."
"The impossible?"
"You."
"Me?"
"Yes."
"I'm your priest. You'll always have me."
"You're leaving for Memphis."
"Oh."
"Unless you become my high priest… and…" The pharaoh looked away.
"What?" The boy lightly placed his hand on the pharaoh's wrist. "Tell me, please."
The pharaoh remained silent for a couple of minutes, avoiding his glaze with a soft smile. "It was many years ago on a completely and utterly ordinary day. We were out riding in the desert, away from the confines of the palace walls. He looked over at me… and all he did was smile. And I realized I want to protect him forever. I never want to leave him… ever again."
He raised his eyes to meet the young priest's gaze. The two lost in the pharaoh's memories.
"Per-a'a," the boy murmured. "You don't? You couldn't?" The boy looked away incredulous.
"I do. I really do."
"But… but… you could anyone! Anyone in the world… why… why me?"
"I don't know. Because… because… I do. Because I just do."
TBC
A/N: I give you fic. You give me review?