Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Back To Ancient Egypt ❯ The Gardens and the Last Poem ( Chapter 11 )

Priestess: From now on, Yami will be called Yu-Gi-Oh. The reason for this is that I need to give the demons or whatever-you-want-to-call them (at this point, I alone know who/what they really are. The Yu-Gi-Oh is Yami, the Bakura is Kage, the Kaiba and Malik are Kaiba and Malik since…you'll see.

***

Atemu let out a frustrated groan. Oh, right, like you really expected to get any meditating done, he berated himself, and sighed sadly.

Since he met Touzoku Ou (a.k.a since Touzoku Ou robbed Akunamukanon's tomb and dragged the mummy and a portion of the treasures right into the palace to proudly display it in front of the entire damn court, then challenged Atemu and the Priests to a duel that they would have lost without Atemu cheating and didn't win anyway) the four hours of meditation seemed to have exclusively become a time for him to wrack his brain over the thief lord until he had to bang his head against the wall.

Which was silly, since banging his head against the wall sufficed to do nothing more than increase his Touzoku Ou-induced headache.

Stretching legs that had been in what is now known as the lotus position, he reclined back against the mountain of pillows half-hiding his ornate headboard. What can I do? He thought. What do I wantto do?

A couple months ago, he wouldn't have needed a moment's thought on the matter. He wanted Touzoku Ou dead, no thought involved-it was how anybody could kill the bandit that he wracked his brain over.

The King of Thieves had been prisoner in the palace for over a month, and all the thought in the world couldn't help him figure out what the hell he wanted.

And it was true, that night after night he had lay awake wishing that Akunamukanon could somehow contact him and tell him what to do about the white-haired rouge-but now that he had, Atemu was only more confused.

He had of course consulted High Priestess Aishisu on the matter, and she had said the best thing to do was listen to what his father had said. But how could the late Pharaoh possibly expect Atemu to love a man who had nearly destroyed his kingdom?

***

One of the aspects of being Atemu's prisoner that Touzoku Ou did not mind as much as he should have was working in the gardens.

Yes, he knew it should be a humiliating task for one such as him. And yes, he was perfectly aware that it was given solely to humble him-Atemu did not need any more gardeners. But he still didn't mind it.

The fact was, plants and animals liked him, and he liked plants and animals. They weren't like people. They didn't judge him by his looks or his past-for animals at least (especially rats) were used to being judged as well and were appreciative of a human kind enough to feed them and not chase them away or scream when he saw them.

He knew how that felt.

Besides, the palace gardens impressed him more than he would expect. It comprised of several regular-sized gardens, each laid out to create certain moods, wrapped around a large one.

It seemed that the palace gardeners realized the futility of creating too many lush green spaces in this kind of climate, as any oasis or pond or fountain or miniature waterfall was tucked carefully into a corner to shelter them from the sometimes harsh desert winds.

There were also gardens which held a rich variety of desert plants and the rest of the bountiful plant life which flourished in the part of the country which most people considered to be wasteland.

The trees and shrubs were gleefully vigorous, pulsing with strength. He wasn't certain what fertilizers they used-he tried to ask with his magic but plants didn't know what fed their roots-though he was almost certain fish heads were part of it. Perhaps offal too, and animal droppings, chopped fine and mixed with regular fertilizer.

Or corpses. He wouldn't put that beyond people who wore the corpses of his family and friends around their necks-though technically only four of the Items, one of them his, were actually necklaces.

It was surprisingly peaceful work as well, since the gardeners all tended to avoid him.

Unfortunately, his mother's dream-visit had made him increasingly aware of just how painful it was to be secluded from everybody else in the world-and the fact that they had always shunned him because of his looks and the circumstances of his childhood stung him more than he cared to admit.

Reaching up, he brushed the back of his hand against his forehead and glanced at said hand-or, if you want me to be more specific, the sweat on said hand.

He sighed, wiping the sweat off on his crimson coat. Damn it, I need to get this over with so I can get to the fucking pool and drink something.

Strangely, that particular pool, in which he had seen so many strange images, seemed to never have a gardener near it. But then, a pool that showed strange images and never seemed to get dirty was obviously magic. Maybe it had some mystical protection around him which didn't affect him because…

Let's not even go there, all right?

He groaned to himself and sped up, glad he was almost finished. If it weren't for this damn pain, I would just let myself die of hunger or thirst, he mused bitterly, and sighed again.

Poor Touzoku Ou, that's all I can say. He had decided a long time ago that death would be a blessing-the first one in his life, and the last.

But do not fear, dear reader, his death will not come soon. (Well duh, it's him) And other blessings were coming his way, but they were unfortunately accompanied by things much worse than any human or animal or even god could be expected to bear without insanity or suicide.

But then, he should be used to that by now, shouldn't he?

***

Bakura splashed water onto his face, letting out a blissful sigh as the liquid cooled his barely-bronzed skin. Yami already had a complexion as golden as Atemu's, but Ryou's skin was more likely to get sunburned than suntanned. Luckily, Bakura was powerful and his supernatural body could reject the sun's rays as easily as it could age.

But it was still a bit golden, and the water still felt good in the searing Egyptian heat.

Looking down at the pool of water cupped in his hands, he could see his reflection-or rather, Touzoku Ou's, since mirrors and water weren't fooled by his appearance and always showed his reflection as it had been in Ancient Egypt, though that wasn't saying much since they were in Egypt.

Most people would find this eerie, but in ancient times your reflection was considered to be the image of your soul, thus this didn't seem strange to him at all.

Of course, enough strangeness had happened to him that the only thing he would ever think of as strange was if Seth/Kaiba were to dance around in underwear and sing love songs.

Snickering to himself at the thought, he poured the water in his hands into the oasis he was kneeling at the edge. The reflection rippled, and he saw Touzoku Ou-not Touzoku Ou gazing out at him with his expression, in his pose, but Touzoku Ou as he was at that very moment.

Bakura stared.

The Thief King seemed to be working in a garden-one of the palace gardens, to be precise. Why in the world…? Bakura searched for a trace of the magic emitted by one of their evil sides, and found it easily, in the form of a band wrapped around his wrist.

Frowning, Bakura splashed the image away and stood up. "Yu-Gi-Oh," he called, turning to his violet-eyed lover, who glanced up from the poem he was writing.

"I found out a bit more about what they're planning," Bakura said brusquely, not wasting any time. "It seems to me that at this point we either have to go to the palace or go to Kuru Eruna-and personally, I prefer the palace."

***

Atemu sighed as he prepared to enter the room. I guess it's once again time to hear the latest bad news, listen to everyone argue, get a headache, and attempt to retain my sanity, he mused bitterly, and opened the doors.

Glancing around to make sure everybody was there, he saw that everybody seemed to be conversing about something or another.

Aishisu, Mariku, and Seth-who he had vaguely noticed were always together nowadays-were having some discussion which seemed to be quite heated.

Shaadi and Akunadin, who tended to keep to themselves, were speaking quietly to one another. Akunadin's expression was grimmer than usual-and that was saying something.

His chief advisor Shimon Muran was speaking with his apprentice Mana-she used to be Mahaado's apprentice, but upon Mahaado's death, Shimon had agreed to take over the energetic girl's studies.

Shimon was the oldest of them all-he had taken care of Atemu when he was an infant (the young Pharaoh was amused to find that Mana hid in the same pot he had to escape studies) and had been the Priest of the Millennium Ankh when Akunamukanon was alive.

Mana, on the other hand, was the youngest, and training to become the palace magician. Atemu had contemplated using them to replace Mahaado, but Shimon was better suited to be an advisor and Mana much too untrained.

Shimon was the first to see him. "Good day to you, my liege. May you have the blessings of the gods in life, health, and prosperity, forever," he said softly, inclining his head.

"Good day and blessings to you as well," replied Atemu, wishing that just once he could go a day without any bowing or scraping.

It was strange, he mused. When people were properly respectful, he was annoyed. When people weren't ::cough-TOUZOKU OU-cough-cough:: he was annoyed. Maybe it was just the stress, but everything seemed to annoy him lately.

"Um…Pharaoh…" Shimon seemed uncomfortable about something. "While Mana is still in training, it could not hurt to gain a Priest to replace Mahaado. We have so much to deal with lately."

Looking up from his conversation with Aishisu and Seth, Mariku supplied, "There's the whole Touzoku Ou thing." Like he needed to remind anyone!

"Where is the thief, anyway?" requested Seth.

"Working in the gardens," Atemu replied, his eyes daring Seth to make some comment about the lack of wisdom in permitting Touzoku Ou to be near regular folk-as he had the last nine times.

When Seth didn't say a word, Mariku added helpfully, "There's also the war, and the mysterious demons, and the people or things they're after, and the dangerous weapons Persia is supposed to have."

Speaking up, Shaadi began, "But we have the Millennium Items, highness, so-"

"'So' nothing," Seth cut in. "The Items are powerful, yes, but they are not invincible. Besides," he added with a sneer of disgust, "only a coward would hide behind a trinket rather than using his own power."

"What I believe Seth means," Atemu said quickly, "Is that, while the Items are a valuable asset, we must not rely solely on their powers."

"I meant precisely what I said," retorted Seth, eyes narrowed dangerously.

Atemu gave him a reproachful look. "We must not begin to quarrel amongst ourselves," he said firmly. "We will be all the more vulnerable if separated than if we are unified."

Even as he spoke, Atemu wondered if his words would have any effect on his comrades. He was not trying to chastise them-he just wanted their cooperation.

He could feel everyone's eyes on him, waiting, and he felt a sudden pang of resentment. Why did he have to be the one to always maintain control of the situation?

Resisting the urge to rub his temples against a headache, he asked with as much dignity and composure as he could manage, "Is there any other news that I don't know about?"

"Umm…yes…" Shimon shifted uncomfortably. "You need to pick a wife."

"What?!" Atemu roared, forgetting any thoughts of dignity or self-control due to shock and rage. "Why in Hathor's name do I require a wife?!"

"Well, legally, the Pharaoh requires a bride to rule. Of course, due to the…ah…circumstances"-them being that Akunamukanon and his wives were dead and there was no one else who could legally rule-"You were able to rule without a bride. But your sixteenth birthday recently came to pass and you must pick one sooner rather than later."

"I don't need a wife," Atemu replied. "Besides, wouldn't she have to be someone of royal blood?"

"And…that is the trouble," Shimon said. "We cannot take a wife from the nobles-it will be known that she is not of pure blood. And you do not even have a harem-not that I approve of such things…"

"You might find an outsider," Aishisu suggested. "If that was done then no one would know that they were not of royal blood."

"That would contaminate the line anyway," Seth argued, giving the High Priestess a look which clearly asked 'What are you doing?!' "And even so, all outsiders are ugly and unfit to be with anyone of the royal line."

"Don't I have a say in this?" Atemu asked. "I'm the Pharaoh here, and I don't want a wife!"

"Would you prefer a husband?" Mariku asked, and Atemu gave him a look clearly asking if the blonde had a death wish.

"If you just find a noble girl, maybe you can use magic to make her look different, and then you can say she's royalty!" Mana suggested brightly. The room was silent and Mana seemed nervous, as anyone else would be in this situation. "We can make her really pretty…One of you could do it…maybe…"

"Mana…" said Shaadi softly, staring at Mahaado's protégée. "That…is…brilliant!"

Everyone in the room began to discuss the idea except Atemu. All of them seemed excited-except Mariku, Aishisu, and Seth. Atemu himself was fuming.

"You are asking me to spend the rest of my life with a woman I've never met," he said, trying not to raise his voice. "Possibly more than one. No. I refuse to do it."

"But the line will die out!" cried Shimon.

"At the moment, we have more immediate problems than getting me married to somebody I don't know. What were you saying about a new Priest?"

***

Priestess: I know I said that I would be writing flashbacks instead of poems, but I recently wrote a poem that strikingly described Touzoku Ou-even if it wasn't that great. So I'm putting it in just for the hell of it. This is the last poem that I'm planning to write for this story, though I may write a few more later on. It just describes Touzoku Ou pretty well-it sucks, but it describes Touzoku Ou pretty well.

You think you know everything
Think you can see
What goes on
Inside of me

So you can see these tears
Falling from my eyes?
So you know my secret fears?
You know nothing, nothing but lies

I will not tell you the truth
I will let you live your lies
I won't make you see my nightmares
I won't make you hear my cries

I am trapped by you, of course
But I am also trapped by me
I can break any handcuff
But not the chains of destiny

I can scream and pray all I want
But no one will answer my calls
Try to get through to me, I will try the same
But more separates us than mere walls

Like a lifetime of suffering
Of loneliness and sorrow
And the knowledge that I
Might die tomorrow

I alone know true suffering
Alone know true strife
What for most is just a vague fear
Is for me my life

You can believe whatever you want
You can hide behind your lies
I cannot hide from myself like you
Hide from what stands before your eyes