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The Pale Savior	By : SasatheShy Category: Yu-Gi-Oh > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 6244 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own YuGiOh, nor do I make a profit off of the writing of this story. It is for fan purposes only.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
Chapter Eleven: A Fallen Angel

--

   Having had no idea how to begin teaching himself how to read and write, Yuugi first went to Anzu and Seth. He did not tell them his plan. He merely asked where a good place in the palace would be for him to read, and they informed him of the palace’s athenaeum, a haven for all sorts of literacy. It was there he could find scrolls, tomes, and all sorts of papers that would help him with his goal.

   Taking Seth’s given directions, Yuugi soon found what he was looking for. The location stood in a part of the palace he hardly traveled through. The area was mainly for the lower-classed servants who changed beddings, washed floors, polished surfaces, and worked in the kitchen. It was also used mostly by servants with time on their hands, and as he entered the quiet place, he did see plenty reading, writing, and conversing quietly amongst themselves.

   He did get a good portion of quirky stares when he entered the athenaeum. The room smelled of paper, an aroma wonderfully relaxing. Within sat plenty of benches and chairs, with work tables and lit candles nowhere near the precious literature. There were rows of scrolls, tomes, and parchments, alphabetized by fiction and non-fiction, by past and present.

   Trying to ignore everyone, Yuugi casually walked over to a shelf full of tomes, pretending like he knew what he was searching for so that he didn’t appear dumb. Examining the widespread selection, a headache formed. He had no idea what any of it meant, what any of it said. He had no idea how he would be able to learn. Gradually, he made his way along the shelves of history, eventually deciding to take a tome, and see what he could make of it. He carried it to an empty chair in a corner.

   Taking a seat, he stared at the bronzed title on the white cover. He took in the first symbol, but could not make out what it was. He sighed and pouted cutely. “How will I be able to do this?” Turning the first page, his eyes widened as a flash of odd characters told remarkable things. Not fair! Groaning, he let his forehead fall over the tome. “I’m so stupid. I can’t do this by myself.” He closed his eyes, not wanting to cry in a public place. “I need help.”

   “Well, well, this is quite a surprise.”

   Yuugi’s head shot up and he met with amused crimson eyes. “Yami!” He squeaked. He went pinker than a flamingo when he realized how loud he had been.

   “Yes, it’s me,” Yami chuckled. He arched a brow and grabbed the tome, much to Yuugi’s concern, who reached for it, but Yami was too quick. Yami scanned through it. “Hmm? What are you reading?” He closed the book and read the title aloud. “The King’s Finest Hour.” He peered down at Yuugi, smirking when he saw that the young man was trembling. “You do not strike me as one with an interest in kings and war. Is there a dark side of you, Yuugi? One that no one knows about?”

   Angrily, Yuugi stood to grab the tome, but Yami held it high. “O -- of course not. Give it here.”

   “Oh? Then why were you stuck on it,” Yami chuckled, referring to catching Yuugi with his head in the tome’s pages. “Is it boring?”

   “I…” Yuugi quivered, still trying to get his hands on it. “Please give it back.”

   Yami thought about it. He slowly handed it over, amazed when Yuugi pulled it close but did nothing further. He shortly smiled. “I see.” He moved around the chair to kneel, gripping its arm as he hunched forward to eye Yuugi up close. He glimpsed at the tome’s title. “Can you not read what that says, Yuugi?”

   Going red, Yuugi bit his bottom lip. He glared at Yami before looking at the title. “It says, The King’s Finest Hour, just like you read.”

   Yami flipped the tome open to the first page. “Very well, then. If you can read, then read that first line to me.”

   Clasping the tome until his knuckles turned white, Yuugi kept glued to that very first line, but he did not know where it stopped. “I -- it says…” He was sweating from his forehead down to his toes. “It says…”

   “For the sake of the Gods, don’t force yourself,” Yami sighed.

   Yuugi closed the tome, sniffing. “So what? So I can’t read. All I wanted to do was learn so that Atemu will appreciate me more. That’s all. It’s not like I -- need to know how.”

   So, the darling courtesan wanted to learn for his master. Yami was no fool. He heard what traveled from servant to servant, about how close Yuugi was to the Lord of Tranquility. How he was more than just some server. Well then, this gave him an idea.

   “Come now, don’t cry,” he said. “If it means that much to you, then I will gladly teach you.”

      Wiping at his eyes, Yuugi stared at Yami with confusion. Had he heard right? “What?”

   “I will teach you, but not here.” Yami took the tome from Yuugi’s hands, then brought his hand out, waiting for Yuugi to accept. When the shorter male did, he smiled and carried the tome back over to the shelf, sliding it back in where it belonged. “Now then, before we take our leave, we must prepare.” He collected study books for beginners, tomes and scrolls a child could use, blank papers for Yuugi to practice on, and brushes made from reed with ink. Having Yuugi carry a handful, he held onto the rest. “That should do. Come with me.”

   Hurrying to catch up, Yuugi was not about to protest. Yami’s generous offer heightened his mood to learn. He wanted to read so badly! If Yami could teach him, why -- he’d be so thrilled. “Where are we going?”

   “My room.”

   Yuugi wondered if this was okay. “You have your own room?”

   “Only those of us who cannot afford to live in the village are permitted to have a room,” said Yami. “They’re small but cozy, and for me, it is like having a home I’ve never had before. I appreciate Lord Seth’s kindness.” He chuckled softly. “You wouldn’t expect our Lords to force us to sleep with the horses, now would you?”

   Flushed, Yuugi swiftly shook his head. “No!”

   He remained silent during the rest of their walk, a little nervous when they descended down loose stone steps. Yuugi never realized there was a downstairs, but then again he heard from Atemu about the palace dungeon beneath the ground, still in use. Thinking about it formed bumps on his arms, and sent a chill up his spine. He never wanted to go down there. This hallway he followed Yami through, cramped but well-lit, seemed pretty nice, and soon they came to the third door down on the left, and stopped.

   “Here we are.” Yami opened his bedroom door, the wood creaking loudly. “In you go.”

   Yuugi peeked around the small, dusty room, moving at a snail’s speed. To the far left rested a poorly made straw bed with white, wrinkled sheets. There was a tiny desk on the opposite side, dusty and worn. A white candle and a paper with Yami’s weekly schedule lay on top. Besides these, the room was pretty much bare, there being no comparison between it and Yuugi’s breathtaking bedroom Atemu bequeathed to him.

   Moving over to the desk, Yami blew at the dust and batted at it with his hands, then wiped them on his kilt. He set the tomes he brought on it, then ushered Yuugi over. “Set those here. We’ll work on the floor. It’s pretty comfortable.”

   The floor was stone hard and cold. Yuugi sat cross-legged while watching Yami surf through all they brought from the athenaeum. The man grabbed a smaller tome, some blank sheets of parchment, and writing materials before joining Yuugi on the floor. “Alright. You won’t be too missed, I hope? I wouldn’t want our sessions to be too short.”

   “Atemu is working at this time,” answered Yuugi, his eyes transfixed on the tome. His eagerness to be educated shined brighter than a star. “Every afternoon I am usually on my own, unless he takes time off to be with me.”

   “Very good, then afternoon time is when we shall meet,” Yami smiled. “You will come to the library, and we will walk here together. Sound good?”

   “Yes.” Excitedly, Yuugi reached for the book. “When can I read?”

   “Whoa, slow down there.” Yami shook his head, holding the book out of Yuugi’s adorable reach. “There will be no reading until you’ve learned your words and numbers. We will start off small, and make our way up.”

   Thinking for a moment, Yuugi quietly asked, “Is it okay for you to be helping me like this?”

   “Do not worry about that, Yuugi. I assure you that my rights are as equal as yours.”

   “Thank you for doing this for me.”

   “It’s my pleasure,” smiled Yami. “Shall we get started?”

   “Yup!” cheered Yuugi, bouncing anxiously.

   “You promise to listen well?” Yami said sternly, throwing Yuugi off guard. “I don’t want this to be a simple waste of my time.”

   “I do want this,” Yuugi proclaimed. He settled down, set with his listening ears on. “Please.”

   Smiling, Yami opened the tome and set it before Yuugi. It showed on a yellowish background their language’s letters in black ink, written out as they should be, how they have been studied for many generations. Yuugi stared confused at the alphabet of symbols, his panic already on increase.

   “This,” said Yami softly, “Is not a list of words, so try to relax. This is every symbol in our language, every number and every letter. We’re going to begin by learning these by heart, and then we will form words, eventually sentences, and paragraphs.” He glanced down, seeing Yuugi’s hands rattling. Slowly, he took one of those shivering hands, and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

   Yuugi stared awestruck. He could feel his lips run dry, as if the letterings staring up at him were snickering, taunting him like mischievous demons he must conquer if he wished to acquire Atemu’s undivided attention. It became easier when Yami’s hand soothingly touched his, and he took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

   “Okay.” Yuugi smiled. “I’m ready.”

--

   With his first study session complete, Yuugi excitedly gripped a bag sewn out of animal hide with the assignments Yami tasked him with close to his heart as he hurried for his bedroom to practice. Yami provided Yuugi with the bag in order for the young man to keep his studies a secret from Atemu. If asked about the bag, Yuugi would tell his Lord that it was a surprise he was working on, to over joy the Lord. He couldn’t wait to reveal it, to show Atemu how much he loved him.

   Yes. Yuugi loved his Lord so much, and more, he knew, than just as a master, as a friend. It was a scary feeling, but it was also amazingly fitting. These few weeks honored to him living as part of Lord Atemu’s life reflected those depressive years working in the scorching sun, shoveling shit, collecting eggs -- those memories no longer made him fear. The nightmares no longer came. Only slightly did he dream of Katsuya or Ryou, often wishing he could once again see his friends, to perhaps have them live here with him, to work for Atemu and to have a better life. If only he knew where they were. For all he knew, they could be dead, and that thought alone pushed him to want to live. It would be their promise, to never give up. He had on that horrible day, and he regretted not having the courage he did now. He prayed for Katsuya’s forgiveness on a constant calendar.

   Returning to his Lord’s quarters, Yuugi ran down the clear hallway, glad to have zero felines to trip over. It was a straight dash for his bedroom, and he grasped the door handle, ready to enter and get to work. A round of familiar giggles froze his grip. He spun in the direction of Atemu’s bedroom, where he heard Atemu and Salihah from behind. He recognized those erotic sounds.

   “He looked so mad the other night when she interrupted us,” Yuugi whispered. “If I interrupted them, would he be as mad? Or worse?”

   Frowning, Yuugi quietly entered his bedroom, deciding against it. He had work to do. Finding a seat next to his bed, he poured his homework out over the floor, keeping it situated beneath his bed in case Atemu barged in. Calmly inhaling, then exhaling to destroy his smite, he smoothed out a parchment of numbers, and got to work on his gift for Atemu.

   “One -- four --” he practiced, murmuring. Yami encouraged him to learn his numbers and letters out of order, and in order, for future tests to come. As nerve-wracking as it was, it was also very exciting. “Eight -- three -- two.”

   A heap of knocks at his door startled Yuugi. Nearly jumping out of his skin, he was quick to scoot his things under the bed, sparing enough time to crawl back and appear innocent when the door opened wide. Atemu peeped his head in, landing his eyes on Yuugi.

   “I thought I heard you,” he smiled. “Where have you been?”

   “Nowhere,” Yuugi lied horribly.

   “You weren’t here a moment ago, which means you were somewhere.”

   Averting in any direction not pertaining to the mess underneath his bed, Yuugi thought fast to confess a believable lie. “I needed to pee.”

   Troubled somewhat, Atemu advanced with great curiosity. “What are you doing down there on the floor?”

   “Nothing.” Yuugi got to his feet, fidgety as a grasshopper. He stepped from foot to foot, his upper lip curled. “I have to pee again.” This time, he really did have the uncomfortable urgency. Stumbling forward, he took Atemu’s hand to lead his attention elsewhere. “Come with me?”

   “If you’d like.” Atemu closed the bedroom door behind them. “Yuugi, are you feeling well? You’ve been acting a little strange since yesterday. Is anything wrong?” When that precious head bowed to avoid eye contact, Atemu had the feeling something was amiss. “You know, if anything is bothering you, you can speak to me. I am here for you.”

   Yuugi leaned on Atemu’s arm, hugging it close. “I know.”

   “So,” Atemu attempted to pursue, “Is anything on your mind?”

   “No,” Yuugi sad agitatedly. “Nothing’s wrong.”

   Torn by that answer, Atemu was left with no choice but to accept it. “Alright Yuugi. I believe you.”

   Lying to his wonderful Lord ached Yuugi, conducting an onslaught of regret. However, shifting his head to take a whiff of Atemu’s arm, a fragrance of almond with spices not his own assured him that what mattered most was executing the homework his newfound friend assigned in order to rebound, to prove himself worthy, and to fight for Atemu’s love. Envisions of failure were unacceptable.

--

   To the far south, an impoverish land homed jumbled Dark and Pale villagers living without the ruling of a Lord. Their shared property, musty and dry, was like an abandoned graveyard. But the eerie air and wasteland décor was no bother to the people. No one was afraid, mostly because none had witnessed meeting with the supposed Lord meant to keep their part of the world in order: The Lord of Shadows. Without his superiority, the people lived to their own accord. Not only had they managed with whatever livestock affordable, but they often coincided when making deals on homes, trade, and produce, or other necessities. And in all the five counties, it was the secluded primeval which accepted non-rivaled breeding between faces of Dark and Pale alike. However, even in a land of rule-breaking, slaves were still needed and demanded.

   In a huddled square of homes stood a rather large bystander. Its clay walls were well-smoothed, with two open windows, and a polished front door. The home belonged to a married Dark Face couple, one of the richest in the barren area. While the charming wife often prided herself with fragrant oils and pleasurable company from the other neighborly wives, her husband preferred security. He was never bored, however. He occupied his time with his one spark of interest: his dainty slave.

   Ryou was a hard-working, cultivated servant to his new family, but to the fat bastard who had purchased him on that scorching day almost a month prior, he was a little something more. He was a powdery-skinned, chocolate-eyed audience, well-trained and easy to talk to. Whenever the wife was unavailable, Ryou became the entertainer, though never once in any means sexually, to the boy’s gratification. Unfortunately, as the days passed, the master was rapidly growing hungrier for the chance to treat himself to a taste of white meat; and Ryou feared the worse.

   Dusk blanketed the sky, cooling Ryou as he fed his owner’s two pathetic chickens outside. He sprinkled thin grain, keeping himself distant from their pecking beaks. “Stop hogging all of the grain, Cloud. Let One-Leg in on the feast.”

   Others would find Ryou bizarre for naming poultry, but the one-legged brownish and white-feathered pretties were his only friends. He never felt sad, anyway. Many chickens had come and gone, named one by one before chopped by a butcher’s blade or killed in the night by some wild jackal or snake. Ryou had no one else.

   “There.” He dangled the now empty bag. “That’s it, ladies. You’ll have to fend for yourselves until morning. Goodnight.”

   Turning on his heel, Ryou strode forward, exiting the tiny chicken coop. Making sure the hatch was locked, he went up to the door of his new sheltered life, and entered.

   The inside was orderly maintained. A round table centered the main quarter, with two benches and some fine drapes blocking the windows. Bags of food nestled in a small room with a mud stove opening into a chimney atop the house’s roof. There was a single doorway which led to the bedroom of Ryou’s owners. He slept in his own comfortable corner with a blanket and a sack for a pillow.

   Ryou was not alone when he stepped inside. Thick smoke swirled from the tip of a poorly wrapped weed edged between the plump lips of his owner. The round man sat carving thin slices of dry bread at the table. Beady brown eyes shifted, contemplating Ryou’s entry. “Finish with your chores?”

   “Yes, sir.”

   “Good.” He placed down the knife, and scooted the bench back. Removing the weed from his mouth, he rang smoke through his nose while admiring Ryou. “Come here.”

   Cautiously, Ryou scuttled to his superior. Long, sticky fingers slid over his leg, forcefully touching his silk skin. He became stiff, muddled by the poise of his master’s action. “Sir? What are you doing?”

   The man’s fingers curled, harassing Ryou’s leg with grievous strokes.

   “Sir?” Ryou trembled. “Why are you…? What would your wife think?”

   “That damned broad is never around when I need her most. Right now, she’s out squabbling away with those other bitches, not caring about me or my urgencies. Why, she might not come home tonight. Who knows?” Licking his lips, the man put out his weed on the table, giving it a black scar. “It doesn’t matter. I have you.”

   Feeling the hand near his thigh, Ryou went to step back. “Do you want to talk about it?” That he was used to, not being improperly groped.

   “I’m tired of talking. All we do is talk. No, I talk and you listen, don’t you? You’re such a good listener.”

   Ryou could feel his heart race. His master rose off the bench, and approached him with a dominate ambition. With the one hand now grasping his behind, the second found its way to his throat, squeezing hard enough to confirm Ryou of the prodigious service needed. Scared mindless, Ryou could do nothing but commend to the dirty bastard’s eager lust. He closed his eyes, inhaling the grimy stench from the thick tongue closing in for a lick.

   “Please. No…”

   In the instant of having his cloth loosened, an earthquake of screams echoed in from an open window, saving Ryou’s sanctity. He fell to his knees, his startled master waddled like a frightened duck to the front door. “What the hell?” The man opened the door, and rushed outside.

   Drowned in confusion, Ryou slunk to the floor. He could see red through the window, sparkling, alive, and knew it was fire. He inched his body closer to the entrance, determined to learn of the purpose behind the shrieks and cries. When he peeked out, he saw that his once peaceful neighborhood had become an ashy battlefield to a large group of heavy strangers wielding spears and bows. They rode upon brilliant steeds, tearing apart the village, stripping and searching every man, woman, and child on the premises. Adjusting his vision, Ryou took seconds to capture the garb the men wore, and familiarized himself with who they were.

   Guards of Captain Gahiji. The very men that once enslaved him, and to his belief, still held his long-lost friends Katsuya and Yuugi. No matter the reasoning for their arrival, Ryou deduced that there was no chance of survival for him if caught. The second his owner was left dead on the sandy floor, an arrow in that thick head, and with the wife crying out in vain, Ryou knew he had no other choice.

   He fled to the back of the house, blocking out the agonizing pleas of the guards’ victims. Escape was tangible. He knew there was a back window, and beyond that was the extensive, withering wasteland. Though trudging the torrid land resulted dangerous, Ryou rather face it then end up back in the hands of those demonic men.

   Pushing back at two silky curtains, Ryou popped his head carefully through the window. He saw no one, and was relieved to know that they all had to be in front. Just ahead, he saw his destination. All he had to do was get out and run.

   A noise from behind alarmed him. He heard the table being thrown about, smashed to pieces. The sons of bitches were inside! Quickly, Ryou leaped through the window, struggling to squeeze out as panic struggled to overtake him. He soon met with the cooled desert floor head-first. Ignoring the sharp pain that shot up his body, he crouched beneath the window, listening to the guards shuffling feet. They stood just where he had been seconds ago, unaware of his masked form. Once he was certain they had finished with their sabotage, he quickly pushed forward and braced himself for the dire road ahead. If only his friends could see him now. He doubted they’d believe his blossomed bravery if ever he saw them again.

   Don’t look back, he told himself. Don’t look back. Never again! I won’t go back there ever again!

   Seconds turned to minutes, with Ryou realizing his attempt at escape was a success. The ground beneath Ryou’s feet went from soft to sharp. He stumbled over treacherous rocks. They slowed his pace. Plants prickled his feet, his worn out soles stung. Looking back, he could no longer see the village. Not that he cared. He had escaped without being seen. Now, if only another village was somewhere close by. Come morning, the brilliant sun would most likely be the death of him.

   “Ow!” Ryou hopped up and down. He brought up his left foot, and examined the bottom of it. A large cactus needle pushed itself in between his big toe and forth, wedged so far in, he couldn’t get it out. He hobbled forward, the darkness shadowed his vision. The moisture he soon felt streaming down his cheeks were tears, warm and plenty, but he had to keep moving.

   Ryou took one final step before the ground beneath him crumbled. Shrieking loudly, he fell down a rocky dune. He brought his hands out, trying to grasp any support as he tumbled and rolled. In seconds, the bottom greeted him. A pounding flooded his head. With no time to howl in pain, his world blackened.

   A large shadow slicked through the rocky sand, halting at Ryou’s unconscious body. With it came an albino snake, large like a python, slithering across the sandy floor and over Ryou’s fallen body. It slicked out its long pink tongue, then blinked its beady red eyes.

   “I know, Darling, I saw him fall.” The shadow loomed, and two large hands gracefully examined Ryou. “He’s alive, Darling. Pretty bad fall, but nothing too serious. A minor bump on the head. He’ll be all right.” The fingers of the voice’s owner brushed along Ryou’s bruised cheeks, moving along to entwine around his snowy hair. “What a beautiful piece of white flesh. I’m becoming enthused.”

   Strong arms brought Ryou into a warm, muscular chest. His savior turned, and made way through the darkness.

   “You’ll have to move along beside me, Darling. This fallen angel’s coming with us.”
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The Pale Savior