Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Distance ❯ The Slave ( Chapter 1 )

Since people have asked me to post this, I guess I will. Thank you all for your generous support! This fic is the prequel to "Final Distance," and it's called "Distance." It takes place in ancient Egypt, and yes, it is another one of those "What happened in Egypt" fics. Now, there seems to be some problems about when exactly Yami ruled in Egypt as Pharaoh…but I would say about 3000 years ago because that's the way it was made in the recent Shounen JUMPs as well as the fanbook "Gospel of Truth." I'm actually trying to make this as close to history as I can, so there are a few true historical figures in this fic. Also, I understand that there are some names in here that are in Egyptian and some are in Japanese because there were characters in the manga who were given Egyptian names (such as Seth=Seto), and some were not.

Disclaimers: I still do not own YuGiOh. If I did, well…the fangirls would have a field day with what I would give them.

With all that said and done, please enjoy this fic and leave comments!

Chapter 1-The Slave

1388 B.C.

Shops began to open as the face of Ra shone over the busy town of the capital. The surface of the Nile glistened with a nuance of reds and oranges, along with tints of yellows here or there. The hustle and bustle of people clamored as they rushed to get ready for another day where they hoped to make more than they did yesterday. Ships docked at the ports to unload goods such as materials dyed the precious royal purple from Phoenicians, wines from the Mediterranean countries, and most of all-- slaves.

Yami awoke to the soft knocking on the door and immediately leapt out of bed, running quickly to the door. He had slept in his clothes last night in his excitement of what he'd be doing today-going into the markets with his father. Of course, they were going incognito for his father was checking up on the market status of the capital, making sure that trade was flourishing and that prices were right as well as honest trading. Yami was very proud of his father for being a wise and benevolent Pharaoh, and he wanted to be just like them-that's why he was allowed on this trip. He was hardly able to be out of the palace without guards, and this incognito trip can go very wrong if his hood were to slip off his head. Everyone in the kingdom knew that the prince of Egypt had strikingly strange features-tri-colored hair of gold, black, and maroon matched with ruby-red eyes. For him to be seen on the streets would make this observational day fail with the people not acting naturally.

"Are you ready, my son?" asked the Pharaoh. He smiled warmly at his ten year old son, running his hand through the spiky, gravity-defying hair. Yami had been so excited about this trip, and he was hoping that today won't mess up. The hood that covers Yami's features can very well be knocked off in the business of the streets. The excited prince nodded, his nods a bit hard to see with his incessant bouncing. The Pharaoh smiled again and held his son's shoulders firmly. "Not too much bouncing now," he warned quietly, "or else your hood will fall off and everyone will know the secret." Hearing this, Yami quickly put a finger to his lips and nodded again.

"Where are we going today, Father?" Yami asked, taking hold of the Pharaoh's hand as his father led him out the back door of the palace.

"We're going to check up on a cloth shop, my son," the Pharaoh informed his young son. "It would seem that they're not just selling cloth…my informants told me that they have another trade." He felt safe telling this to his son. For even at such a young age, Yami has shown great knowledge in many of the political affairs needed to rule the throne when he succeeds. And yet he has not forgotten his childish side, for his extreme affinity with games has everyone in the court baffled. He has stumped almost all of the wise men, priests, and even the scribe in their best games, the court now says that if anything, he will become the king of games. For him to be trusted with such information is safe enough, the Pharaoh has decided.

"Slaves?" Yami asked, his ruby eyes peeking up from under the beige material of the hood that covered almost half his face. The reply was but a grim nod from his kindly father. The two of them walked on the busy streets for a few more seconds before the Pharaoh spoke again. "Slaves are an important part of our society, that I know," said Yami's father, "But you must understand, my son, that there are some things that one must never do to another person, slave or not. This store, from what I've heard, is doing just that. When I give the signal, the guards following us today will arrest the man who owns the shop." He said this in a hushed voice as he made a small jerk with his head to motion to the two large guards who followed about three yards behind the ruler and his son. Yami gulped in anticipation. Then his father stopped in front of a small shop that was in an alley, slightly away from the rush in the main market.

The man that greeted them was a small, crooked old man with a frightening smile. His teeth looked rancid in its yellow and almost greenish color, some were missing and the ones that were still left were crooked, like the man's spine. The trader rubbed his hands together, creating a sandy sound as his raspy, hissing voice spoke up. "Are you looking for textiles today, my good sir?"

"No," answered the Pharaoh, "I am here for…you understand. Nephrin was my contact."

The small man's eyes lit up and he chuckled, looking up and down at the Pharaoh's clothing, calculating how much money this man in front of him may have to see which of his stock he was going to show. Then his eyes stopped on Yami. "But sir," the man said, his putrid breath making Yami gag. "It would seem you already have one."

"I would like to find a friend for this one."

"Understood, sir," the man laughed. He laughed in such a way it sounded more like someone was taking shards of broken slate and shaking them within a bag. Plus the man looked as though he were going to fall over and break on his crookedness as he shook with laughter. He then motioned for the two to come into the back with him.

The walls were lined with cages, and they only held young boys. Some of them looked a bit plain, but most of them looked quite fair, a bit pretty. But they were all caked with filth and their dark eyes were laced with fear, huddled up in those cages. A few of them were foreigners of the Mediterranean area with their curled hair and brown eyes. The Pharaoh's eyes narrowed at the sight in the dark room as he surveyed it. He shielded the anger inside his eyes as disappointment.

"This can't possibly be all," the Pharaoh complained, sounding unsatisfied.

"But sir," the owner answered, "This is all of my stock…"

"I insist that you show me something better," interrupted the Pharaoh, "Something more…exotic." A hand reached towards his belt and he pulled out a bag of coins, jingling them in front of the merchant for emphasis. The greedy little man stared at the bag and almost drooled, his hands reaching up for the bag before the Pharaoh pulled it away, out of reach.

"Understood," the merchant snickered. "Just a few days ago, a truly exotic one came in… I was planning on keeping him for myself, actually…" He motioned for the two to follow him deeper into the narrow shop, into a room that was hidden in the way back and bolted twice.

The unlocked room presented a boy with hair the color of the earth lying on the ground, dressed in nothing but soiled rags, his hands bound behind his back and his feet bound at the ankles with rough, thick rope that rubbed the boy's ankles raw and bit into the skin of his wrists, drawing blood. The boy twitched at the sound of people entering into the room and wiggled, shouting curses from a dry, parched mouth into a dirty gag. He lifted his head and Yami could see that his eyes were covered. The man motioned for the Pharaoh to examine the boy, and the Pharaoh put his fingers onto the boy's cheeks, forcing his mouth open to check his teeth. His fingers rubbed a bit of the filth off the boy's soft skin, and Yami saw that the boy was as pale as ivory, not like the natives of Egypt, not even like the Mediterranean dwellers.

"Why the blindfold?" the Pharaoh asked, looking at the boy, trying to suppress his anger and his pity.

"His eyes, sir, they're BLUE," the vermin-like merchant explained. "This boy isn't like those stocks outside; he's from the island very north. The land the Phoenicians call Briton. He's of the Belgae clan, those people who live around those strange columns of stone, I've heard. The traders who sold him to me said that the people there hold such great magical powers, such blasphemous powers. And it is said that the color blue enhances magical abilities…so I have to keep him blindfolded. When he is good enough to use, I suggest you gouge out his eyes and-"

"ENOUGH!" the Pharaoh finally snapped. He stood up immediately and snapped his fingers. Within an instant, the two guards who had followed them as far as to the entrance of the shop came rushing in, grabbing hold of the small wiry merchant. "I am now putting you under arrest for illegal slave trade…trading them off to brothels! You disgust me." His nose wrinkled and even Yami shrunk back to see his father so angry. Now that the merchant has finally gotten a good view at the Pharaoh's face, he was begging for mercy, but nothing can help him as he was dragged out by one of the guards.

"Free all those boys out there and see if you can get them all back to their homes when you get the scribes to communicate with them," ordered the Pharaoh. The guard bowed in response as he went into the preceding room to unlock all the cages.

As though sensing something was wrong, the brown hair boy lying on the ground suddenly became still, listening for other sounds. Slowly, Yami approached the boy and pulled off the manacles that bound him as well as the gag and the blindfold. The boy immediately shielded his eyes, unaccustomed to the sudden invasion of light. When he removed his hand from his eyes, Yami's breath hitched in his throat.

His eyes were blue. Although he had heard the merchant say it before, the actual experience of seeing those eyes was a completely different thing. Those eyes were such a deep blue they seemed to entice and pull whoever cast gaze on them down into a spiral of unrelenting trance. And in this trance, Yami asked the question that would change his life.

"Father…can I keep this one?"

To be continued…

Well, Seth's skin in here is pale. I decided to do that cuz in the recent issues of JUMP, the artist seemingly forgot to tone his skin when he appeared, so I'm making him pale. And just so you know, Briton is Britain, back at this age, and Seth is from a clan that lived really close to the Stonehenge (built 3000B.C).