Adult-FanFiction.org : Yu-Gi-OH

Beloved	By : lucterna Category: Yu-Gi-Oh > Het - Male/Female Views: 3282 -:- 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-And So It Begins
- 2-All You Have to do is Dream
- 1
- 2
Disclaimer: I do not own YuGiOh! or anything else copyrighted, registered or trademarked to someone else.

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(three years later ...)

Pharaoh Atemu kneels before the enormous altar dedicated to the jackal-headed god, Anubis. Before him looms a giant, painted statue of the god in full jackal form; it almost seems to glare down at him intelligently as he lays his offerings in front it. There is a special golden chalice of wine, a small crust of bread and the petals of several sacred flowers. Solemnly, the Pharaoh pours some of the wine at the base of the statue then sets the chalice on one of the altar's steps, where nearby he places the bread. Afterward he strews the petals about on the floor around him and finally he bows his head. Murmuring a few words of respect to the god, he offers another silent prayer before standing and glancing about the small room.

The altar is the only thing that occupies it, not counting the extensive paintings and hieroglyphs on all four walls. At the forefront of the altar there are two stands, one holding a small concave plate where a little fire burns, casting the only light. The other holds another of these plates, but instead little wisps of smoke rise from it where the incense within is continually burning. Atemu takes a deep breath of the thick, sweet scent before turning to the room's entrance where a man clad in jet black robes waits, his head bowed before the god's likeness and that of the godliness embodied by the Pharaoh.

"I take my leave now," Atemu says sternly, his voice powerful even in such an insignificant statement.

"My Pharaoh," the man speaks softly, his head never once leaving its bowed position, "shall I escort you out?"

Atemu shakes his head with a flurry of multicolored hair, "That is not necessary, priest." He does not go on to explain himself, after all, the Pharaoh answers to no one but the gods; so without another word he slides past the black-robed man and heads for the temple's exit.

Outside torrents of rain are pounding down on the city; Inundation has begun and soon the Nile will overrun its banks bringing with it the silt to fertilize new crops. In this rain stand two of the Pharaoh's Maji, both soaked to the bone though their faces remain impassive. No matter what conditions they have to endure they are to protect Atemu at all times. They are both dressed in white linen kilts encircled with a metal mesh barrier for protection. Brown leather vests decorate their torsos and both carry matching glaives. Around their upper arms a golden band in the form of a snake, to represent the goddess Wadjet[1], encircles the flesh, glittering dully in the rain. They look expectantly up at their Pharaoh, awaiting his orders.

Atemu regards them silently for a moment, before nodding. The unspoken command is understood and the two move apart to allow the Pharaoh to walk between them. For a while the procession continues like this, until something in the not so distant distance catches Atemu's eye. With a grunted word to halt his guards, his head whips around to find the source of the disturbance. His dark crimson eyes peer through the sheets of rain and finally come to rest on a humanlike figure.

The person simply stands there in the rain, face upturned to the falling drops, although their head is still obscured by a dark hood. As if sensing the presence of eyes on them, the figure's head turns in the direction of the Pharaoh. Reaching out the figure pulls back its hood, revealing long, brightly colored hair although in the darkness the color cannot be made out. But there is one thing that can be seen in the darkness ... the figure's pale, nearly luminescent white skin. The pharaoh's eyes widen; is this person a foreigner?

Atemu shakes his head, dropping his gaze to rub at his eyes. When he looks back up to seek out the white-skinned person again, he finds that they are gone, the rain pounding down relentlessly in the place where they were standing.

Again he shakes his head, this time dismissing the vision as his tired imagination playing tricks on him. "Let's go," he mutters to the guards and again they start their procession through the cascading drops of water.

------

A smile spreads across your face as you scurry through the heavy flood rains. This was the first time you had ever laid eyes on the Pharaoh and it excited you for reasons you couldn't nam
e or describe. You have been kept hidden within Set's temple for the past three years in your training as the first priestess to ever step foot inside. There were women on the grounds, but most of them lived in the small village that had sprung up around the structure and very few of them ever went near the temple. Even if some of the rituals for the chaos god were different or backwards, they had still followed the basic rule that gods had priests and goddesses had priestesses. Due to your difference you had overcome this boundary. Even the High Priest, whom you'd not had the pleasure of meeting directly, had agreed that someone bearing such a likeness to the god must be honored in some fashion.

In any case, this was one of the rare occassions you'd had to leave the temple complex and venture out into Memphis. The darkness and the rains served to conceal you as did the heavy, hooded cloak you now wore. And in all the times you'd managed to come into the great city, this was the first time you'd seen him. And you knew it was him, for it could be nobody else with that strangely shaped hair of his (which you had learned of through accounts of others who'd been in the Pharaoh's presence), and just the feel of his gaze upon you was enough to send shivers coursing through your body.

You hurry back to the temple complex; it is time for your nightly bathing and purification rites. The complex looms ahead, strikingly close and yet still hidden behind a thicket of lush trees that flourish under the rains and in their nearness to the Nile. A high stone wall stretches around the place with only a small, low hung gate to allow thoroughfare. It is this gate you slip in through and head for the temple which stands almost forebodingly in the center of the complex surrounded by immense, intricately decorated columns. You slide under them, thankful to be out of the rain no matter how much you enjoyed it only a few minutes ago. Droplets continue to slide down your face from your hairline, where the delicate red strands are soaked and plastered to your head. Your feet pad across the dusty stone floor.

At the temple's entrance you are met by a familiar and welcome face, Ankhef. He smiles at you, ever the father figure. It is like the two of you have adopted each other, you especially in the absence of your true father. "Hello, Rasui," he says in his soft baritone voice. "I see you've been out under the rains again."

You smile up at him, tossing back your hood and smoothing your hair out before tying it at the base of your neck with a spare piece of string you always carry around with you. "I couldn't help myself," you reply.

He smiles and nods, understanding. There was a time when he too enjoyed nights under the yearly flood rains and although that time has past he hasn't forgotten the pleasure such nights brought him.

"Well, I'm here for my nightly bathing," you say, eager to get this over with and get into bed. You can almost swear you know what your dreams will be about and you are excited to get to them.

"Ah, yes," another smile and he turns, motioning you to follow.

The two of you walk down a familiar set of hallways, the walls lined with heiroglyphs and dazzling paintings of the god Set in his many accomplishments. There are even scenes from when he was revered not as an evil god, but the god of wind and desert storms. In these he stands in all his glory, an ally of his siblings Osiris and Isis, a loving husband to Nephthys, and defender of their father, Ra. You wonder just how he was misconstrued into a god of darkness and evil, but you have never asked. It seems almost taboo to speak of it and most of the priests ignore your questions anyhow.

Finally you reach the small room set aside for your own bathing rites; already your small slew of female attendants are there. They bustle around, pouring fire-heated water into the large, stone bath that dominates the center, and much of, the room. Like most of the temple, the walls are covered in painted heiroglyphs and from two opposing corners incense rises from small plates on stands. If you were anyone but the girl with Set's likeness, at this time of bathing your body would be shaved clean, but as the red hair denotes your "blessedness" by the god you are exempt from such a practice.

After shedding your cloak and the usual white linen shift that all priestesses were required to wear - both of which are carted off by two attendants - you sink into the water. Thankfully, at this, the women leave you to bathe yourself. They have been your servants ever since the hem netjer[2] recognized your resemblance to chaos god. Honestly, you don't feel the need for them. Before, with your family, you had managed just fine doing things on your own. But for reasons not fully explained to you, the servants had been somewhat of a requirement. After all, the hem netjer had a few, why not the girl who looks like a god?

Sometime later, after scrubbing until your skin was a light pink, you step out of the bath and dry off with a few cloths left by the edge. Another white linen dress is there as well, and you slip into it, enjoying the feel of the soft material against your skin. With a yawn, you stretch your hands above your head and finally leave the bathing room.

As you make your way through the temples halls alone, heading towards your living quarters, your thoughts return to the Pharaoh sighting. You are certain it is him, even in the darkness and through the rain, you are sure. Even now, after the relaxing bath and the trek through the temple, you still feel excitement at the thought. You wonder just what exactly he looks like now that you've seen little of his face and only clearly made out the shape of his hair. Grinning you conjure up an image in your imagination and decide that you are going to hold onto that image and attempt to dream about it.

Slipping into bed some time later, the image you've created is the last thing you see before drifting off into dreamland.

------

Atemu grunts in irritation, turning over onto his side in bed. He is met with the inky darkness of his sleeping chambers when his eyes flutter open and he sighs softly. Sleep just will not come to him no matter how hard he tries. Instead his mind is fixated on what he'd seen in the rain. He is sure it's important to know just who the person might be, but of course he is lacking in that knowledge. There is some odd fascination that has sparked within him and it only continues to grow as he tells himself it was simply a hallucination. And so with these thoughts circulating his mind, he grumbles and continues to stare off into the dark.

Eventually through the sound of the falling rain outside sleep does claim him, and he welcomes it with open arms. Usually the Pharaoh does not have very many dreams, at least not ones he can remember in the morning, however this night he has a particularly interesting one. He dreams that once again he is standing in the rain, alone this time, and before him is the figure wrapped in the dark cloak. Again it reaches up to pull away its hood and the bright hair comes tumbling down around the face, which turns to him and nearly glows in the darkness.

Frozen in place, he can only stare as the figure begins to move towards him with an almost awkward sort of grace.

When it stops nearly inches before him, so close, he can feel warm breath on his face even over the chill of the rain. And it seems as he gazes into the bright sparkling eyes that belong to such a pale, feminine face, everything around him slows. The raindroplets no longer pound against his skin, but nearly seem to kiss it gently before trickling downward. All that he can truly perceive is the face in front of him, with its wide curious eyes and small smiling mouth. Of its own accord, his hand raises and he finds himself reaching out as if to touch the woman standing before him. Her hand meets him halfway, though, and her pale fingers entwine with his deeply tanned ones.

"Are you real?" he asks, voice nearly a whisper.

The woman nods, raising her free hand to smooth back her hair. In a whisper as well, she replies, "As real as you are, Pharaoh Atemu."

Atemu's eyes widen, and although this is his dream, he inquires, "How do you know my name?"

She only winks at him, her smile growing wider. "We know everyone's names in our dreams," she replies as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "If you think about it, you will know mine."

His brow wrinkles, and he pulls his hand from hers to fold his arms across his chest in thought. "Ane-" The woman seems to flinch as he begins the word, and suddenly he can no longer remember what he was going to say. Instead, another word comes to mind, "Rasui."

The smile returns and she nods her head. "Indeed." Suddenly, she looks over her shoulder, as if spying someone or something calling for her in the distance. "I must go," she whispers.

Finding that he is reluctant to let her leave so quickly, Atemu asks, "Shall I see you again?"

The woman, Rasui, is already backing up, about to turn on her heel. However her head turns back and their eyes meet once more. "Of course."

"When?"

She grins, "All you have to do is dream."

-----***-----

[1] Wadjet is a particularly old goddess, even for Ancient Egypt. She is nearly always portrayed in the form of a cobra and she was believed to protect the Pharaoh. Most commonly her likeness can be seen as the uraeus(meaning 'she who rears up') or the cobra head on many burial masks.

[2] Hem Netjer is the Ancient Egyptian term for High Priest. Later on you may see the term Hemet Netjer which is the term for High Priestess.
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