Adult-FanFiction.org : Yu-Gi-OH

What Should Have Been	By : tavia454 Category: Yu-Gi-Oh > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 1842 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own YuGiOh and I swear I make no money from this story!

Chapter List
- 1-What Should Have Been
- 2-Chapter 2
- 1
- 2
Okay,
seeing as the next chap of MA is finished (for the most part) and off
to the beta, I'll give a little more to the one that's been sitting
on my comp for months. Please don't expect much in the way of
historical accuracy for I fear you WILL be disappointed. But I will
try to put as much realism into this as I can. Thank you all for the
comments on this one, I really appreciate it.

This is
unbeta-ed for now because of the inconsistency of my posting and I
will not be giving regular updates on it until MA is finished, but I
will get an update for it when I have the time. I just don't want to
confuse the char any more than I already have by taking on two AE
fics. Thank you.

And
here we go: I don't own Yugioh and nothing in this story is accurate.
(grins)

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

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. Its 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
its 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 pinky.

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 kind 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’s 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.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

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 gods. Each has agreed to your
request…including 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 the demon
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
really appreciate…” Isis bowed formally.

“There
is no time for prevarication, my dear. I think your charge is about
to do something irrevocable!” 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…

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

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, amethyst eyes
resembling a deer in the headlights. 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 isle 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…

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

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, anyways, 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 obnoxiously loud 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 didn’t scare 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 be 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
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 child 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 just how
injured the child was.

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 child 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 ones 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. His eyes were drawn to the
boy’s petal soft lips and he licked his lips in anticipation of
tasting…

“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.

“Relax
Jonoh, I am perfectly fine.” Atemu sighed as he gathered the
child 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 child 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 elder 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 child 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 the 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 child’s best interest if he let her
guide the way. If he wanted to see the child’s 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 child 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 his
priests. 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 the tall man
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 tall man walked briskly 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 child 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!
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What Should Have Been