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Uab Bak Am Neteru	By : Firemoon Category: Yu-Gi-Oh > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1951 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own YuGiOh!, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Disclaimer:
See my bio.
Summary: 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.
Rating: R for sexual content in later
chapters.
Pairing: Ryou x Malik
Category: Romance/General
A/N: This is for a fanfiction
challenge in which I need to complete this ff in 2 MONTHS. So the other fics
will be temporarily shut off until I finish this fic. Thank you for your support.

---
Uab
Ba-k Am Neteru
By.
Firemoon
---
Chapter
1: New Life

Ptahotep
carefully arranged the spotted leopard skin thrown over his shoulder as he
quickly walked towards the Temples. It was nearly time, if not right now, to
light the incenses and scented oils and chant the sacred scripts to the scribe
god Thoth, and he also desperately needed a bath as quickly as possible. He had
been out picking lotuses for the following procession at early tomorrow morning
for the Nile God Hapi and for the prosperity of the crops for this year.

But unfortunately,
he had slipped and fell, much to the delight of other assistants who tagged
along to help with the picking. He had always known that he wasn��t meant for
any bodily work. He was a scribe and recorder, through and through. Ptahotep
chuckled. He guessed that it was all his namesake��s influence, the great scribe
Ptahotep of the time of Izezi Djedkare.

Now he was soaking wet and covered
in mud from knee down, including his new leather sandals. By Horus, it
was not even two days worn! The dark-skinned priest-scribe quickened his pace,
and at the same time, he was trying to look as if he was not hurrying at all. A
priest must be calm, composed and dignified at all times. He must not
forget that or the Elders will punish him severely.

He
grimaced as his wet sandals made ungraceful noises, slapping noisily to let
everyone within the earshot that Ptahotep, a priest-scribe of the god Ptah, was
hurrying. Then a figure caught his eye – by the way, his eyes were
greenish blue which the other priests said that they seemed to penetrate into
people��s very soul -, a thing helplessly trying to crawl up the high marble
stairs, wrapped up in dirty rags and clutching something in its arms.

Ptahotep
stopped in his tracks, biting his lower lip in silent commotion inside his
mind. The chanting was already starting inside the temple, and this would be
the third time in two weeks that he was late. The elders will be extremely
angry. He would be punished quite – very, in fact - severely, if he did not go
now. But on the other hand...

Then,
with a keening cry, the bundle in the creature��s arms slipped from its grasp,
and fell onto the ground with a soft thump.

A baby.

Ptahotep��s
eyes widened. The baby did not stop crying, and rather it exploded into even
more loud, if that is possible, wailing. He also noticed that the creature had
slid off the stairs itself and lay in a heap on the ground near the baby,
shaking silently. The raspy breathing of the creature could be heard even over
the loud but monotonous – almost hypnotizing - chanting of the priests.
Ptahotep ran towards the creature and the baby, his wet sandals making loud
slap-slapping noises, abnormally loud in his ears as they echoed around the
darkening square. No one was out at this time when one should be giving
offerings to the Sacred Beings.

The dark
haired priest skidded to an ungraceful halt beside the creature, nearly
tripping over in his hastiness. Just ignoring the unkempt state he was in, he
knelt in the dirt beside the creature. He turned the creature over, and gasped
out aloud at what he saw. The creature was a woman, a young woman of mid-twenty
turns and quite beautiful, even through his naïve priestly eyes.

Her hair
was dark, black as the sky in the middle of a moonless night, and her eyes were
the darkest shade of blue. She had lightly tanned skin that looked soft to the
touch. The green-eyed priest immediately recognized her as the famous Taheret,
who was known to be quite a popular whore, even in this godly area of Karnak.
Ptahotep quickly removed his hand, feeling dirty and soiled. The young woman��s
eyes flicked helplessly as she struggled to sit up, her hands moving listlessly
in futile attempt to reach for the baby. She pointed to the baby and uttered
only one word over and over again, until the dark-skinned priest finally realized
that the word was the baby��s name.

��Setnakht..
Setnakht..��
��So, he
is...your baby?��

The
woman��s hands dropped to the ground, and her head rolled to the side as if
relieved of a great heavy burden. Her raspy breathing continued, and she
squeezed out some more words, broken slightly by her uneven breathing.

��Take..
baby.. teach.. please..��
��You
want him to grow up to be a priest?��

Ptahotep
asked, incredulous; no one really wanted to be one of the priests of Karnak.
The rules were too strict for most of the young folks to follow. He himself had
grown up in the Temples, so he did not know much about the outside life.

She did
not answer, but her blue eyes said it all; yes. Ptahotep vaguely
understood her, and felt an immediate sympathy towards the young woman. A
pretty whore, used by all men and finally left to die alone. A priest��s life of
no bodily pleasures will be better off for the boy, then as an orphaned street
beggar to be used like his mother at the end, again and again. Ptahotep nodded;
he would do everything he can do to keep the child in the Temples, to be grown
among the gods, breathing the solemn air of the old. He said gently, his
greenish blue eyes warm.

��Do not
worry, he will be well cared for.��

For a
second, a full, beautiful smile lit her thin, starved face, her thin frame, and
Ptahotep felt an immense pity towards the dark-haired young woman, regretting
once more the previous act of stepping away in disgust. He took her hands
gently in his own, and started the first chant that came to his mind in Pert
em hru.

A chant
to guide her and help her safely to the path of the underworld, to the Great
god Osiris, towards the Fields of Happiness to live forever.

And
before he knew it, her hands between his were as cold as the marble staircase.
He quietly let go, and turned towards the little bundle. The crying had quieted
down during when chanchanting was being spoken, but soft whimpers were still emitted
from the little bundle��s depths. Ptahotep carefully picked the baby up, holding
him awkwardly.

Slowly,
he unwrapped to the point where he could see the baby��s head. A pair of
half-closed dusky amethyst eyes were there, large and clear, and a turf of
light golden brown hair. The slightly tanned skin was seemingly from his
mother. Ptahotep felt a small smile tugging at each end of his lips as he laid
his eyes upon this small life, preciously light and warm.

He
carefully re-wrapped the baby, and softly cradling it, started walk up the
stairs to the temple. He looked back to the little bundle of warmth held in his
arms, and whispered to the baby, half chanting the name to himself.

��Setnakht..��

They
disappeared into the temple of Hathor, where the elders normally were, soaking
in the warmth and love of the goddess.

---

��So,
Ptahotep..��

One of
the elders implored gently, his dimmed old blue eyes gazing sagely out from
among the folds of his earthy brown cloak. The dark-skinned priest gulped,
sitting stiffly on one of the chairs, the baby still held in his arms. The
other elders were merely looking at the Old One, their expressions hard and
unreadable. The Old One mumbled to himself as the elders often do, and finally
spoke out.

��Then,
the name��s Setnakht?��
��Yes, my
lord the High Priest.��

The Old
One��s face softened at the sight of the sleeping baby. Such pure, innocent
beings, children are. The baby sighed, snuggling into the folds of his clean
white wrappings. Ptahotep began to feel relaxed as he saw the Old One reach out
his bony, wrinkled hands for the child, and he handed over the little baby without
a moment of hesitation or reluctance. He knew the High Priest of Karnak would
not harm the little one.

With a
jolt, the boy baby awakened with a start, but did not cry or make a noise as
the dark-skinned priest-scribe had feared. The baby looked into the milky blue
eyes of the old High Priest, curiously blinking. And slowly, the baby reached
out a hand, surprisingly small and delicate, to touch the High Priest��s curved
eagle nose. The Old One��s face broke out into a warm smile at that simple
touch, and the baby giggled innocently, dusky amethyst eyes following the High
Priest��s fingers�� moves as he wagged them in front of the baby��s face. The High
Priest turned his face towards the occupants of the room.

��He will
stay.��
��But my
lord the High Priest..��

One of
the elders – the strictest one in all of the Two Lands – stood up indignantly,
his face slightly red in the torchlight. His dark eyes were narrowed in obvious
distaste.

��But my
lord, the baby is a illegitimate son of a wh—��
��SILENCE!��

The Old
One thundered, surprisingly loud for one so thin and old. He gripped the carved
staff in his hand tightly, the other arm still holding Setnakht closely. The
baby blinked, slightly surprised by the loud noise. The High Priest stared at
the dark eyed priest with a pair of hardened blue chips of eyes.

��He will
stay, Sabni. Do you dare defy my decision and, in doing so, me?��
��No, no,
my lord High Priest. I was just—I beg you to forgive me, my lord.��
��You are
forgiven. Take your seat.��

Sabni,
the Head Priest of Aten, flushed, and hastily sat down after bowing to the High
Priest, murmuring apologies. The High Priest looked around, the eyes, dimmed
but wise and piercing, searched each of the elders�� faces. No one spoke up, or
looked away. Then, the old priest sagged, sighing tiredly and handed back the
baby over to the green eyed priest-scribe. Ptahotep received the baby with
ready hands. The High Priest instructed the priest of Thoth as to where he
should take the young one.

��You
will take the baby to the Training Quarters, East building, and there the
Priestess Yunet and the Priestess Esemkhebe will take care of our newest – and,
if I am thinking correctly, youngest - apprentice. They are the Mistresses of
the Young, as I recall.��
��Yes, my
lord High Priest.��

Ptahotep
bowed formally, green eyes warming at the little life in his arms. The High
Priest chuckled, his rough brown wrinkled skin almost undistinguishable from
the thick cloak that surrounded him. He waved one jewel bedecked hand
dismissively. One of the rings with a thumbnail sized ruby glinted in the
torchlight like a winking red eye.

The High
Priest��s own blue eyes flickered towards the little bundle, and he too, nodded
to the dark skinned, green eyed priest, bidding him goodnight. Then, with a
flick of his wrist, he had hoisted himself up and was walking into the
innermost quarters of priests�� sleeping area. His ornately carved staff made
loud, tick ticking noise on the sandstone floor. His thick earthy brown cloak
also made a stealthy, slithering snakelike noise as it was dragged along the
floor.

As he
walked, the minor priest of the Temple walking behind him obediently, the High
Priest of Karnak murmured to himself, his old, faded mind going out to the
youngest priest in training who was currently snuggled to Ptahotep as he was
carried to the Training Quarters.

��May the
gods protect you, Setnakht...��

With a
dull thud, the massive wooden door of the High Priest��s room closed shut.

---
..Ok,
I know, I��ve made a shitty job out of it. And there��s nothing r-rated.. yet. *smirks*
Anyway, Setnakht is, if you didn��t notice, the past Ancient Egyptian form of
Malik. *a suspicious sounding dull thud* I know, just kill me please before I
ruin the characters any furthur. *hands the readers an axe*
But
please, review! [flames welcome!] I really want some reviews and criticisms for
this ff, so PLEASE!

Yours
Faithfully Fanfictional,
Firemoon

OH,
ANOTHER THING: Ok, dear spiderweb-san, this is shown as 2,187 words in my Microsoft
word. IT seems that the ff.net is cutting huge chunks off the number.. *growls*
Anyway, this IS 2,187 words long.
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Uab Bak Am Neteru