Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Distance ❯ The Belgae ( Chapter 2 )

Disclaimer: I don't own YuGiOh, nor any characters affiliated with the product. The only thing I own here is probably the original plotline.

Chapter 2-The Belgae

"What do you mean, `keep him?'" the Pharaoh asked, surprised that his son would propose such a question. Sure, the Pharaoh kept slaves himself, all over his castle, but they were more like "servants" than "slaves." Also, he just thought that it wasn't right to keep a slave from this sort of joint when he advocated a law that was precisely against it. His own son…to want a slave from this place, of all places? Yami handed the boy his water skin, seeing that the boy's lip was bleeding from lack of water, and shrugged. "I don't know…I just…would like to keep him. Not as a slave, as a friend," he answered, watching the boy with intense interest. At first, the boy had shrunk back as the water skin was offered to him, but the Prince smiled in such a reassuring way, he reached out and took the water skin and drank desperately. As he handed the empty water skin back, Yami felt rewarded with the smile that the boy gave him.

The Pharaoh sighed, knowing that there was really no way to argue with his son. It's not like his son was in anyway abusive or obnoxious to his own assigned servants, either. And it would perhaps be nice to let his son have a friend who was bound to him by name instead of by the thought of kissing up to the Prince. Yami had gone through several youths around his age, including his own cousin, who just wanted the favors and advantages of being his "friend." Shaking his head, the Pharaoh shrugged and walked over to his son, lifting him onto his feet and then the slave boy, who made a small whimpering sound of fear before collapsing on his feet again, having been bound to the ground for perhaps a week.

"Don't be afraid," Yami assured the boy, offering him his hand, "You belong to me now, I'll be good to you."

"We'll have to see if he has a home to return to first," the Pharaoh reminded Yami. "If he does, then it's only right to send him back."

"Don't…need…" the boy said suddenly, pulling himself up with the help of Yami. His blue eyes focused, and he looked quite alert now, but his eyes were not harsh or blaming in any way. "Home…burned," he struggled with the foreign language, searching for words that he had picked up within the week that would fit his sentence.

"Do you understand us?" Yami asked, surprised. Some of his slaves still needed to use hand gestures to communicate with him, and yet this boy was making half intelligible sentences. The boy made a signal with his fingers, bending his index finger and his thumb to make an incomplete circle, showing that he understood only a bit of Egyptian.

"Your home was burned down?" the Pharaoh asked, concerned. The boy nodded, biting his lip and looking away. "Did your family escape…? Any survivors?" the Pharaoh tried not to press, but if the boy had anyone left, anyone at all, he would be able to go back and perhaps start over. He could leave on the ship that was leaving tonight with the other slave boys that were to be sold in this small store. But the optimism was crushed as the boy shook his head, blue eyes dimming a shade but glistening with dammed tears, trying to be strong in the face of strangers. "All…killed…Phoenicians…" he whispered, his voice cracking. He backed away from the two of them, against the wall as though wishing that he could just melt into the wall, ashamed that he had allowed his voice to crack and let his tears fall so freely. The Pharaoh glanced at the boy with pure pity and then at his son, who advanced towards the boy.

"There, there," soothed the young prince. "Don't cry… It'll be all right, you'll see." He handed the boy his red handkerchief as he placed a comforting hand on the trembling shoulder. "We can be your family. I'll be your new brother…and your friend…"

The boy took the handkerchief with timid, shaking hands and looked at Yami, searching for malice or pity in those ruby depths. He didn't want pity from anyone, especially in such a foreign place like this; but what he saw was utter compassion, compassion for a complete stranger such as he, and this emotion drove him speechless. Shaking his head, he finally conjured up what he could in a slurred tongue. "Who…ur…you...?"

"My name is Yami," the prince introduced himself, understanding the boy immediately. He smiled and turned to his father, who smiled back as the boy showed the first steps of opening up by taking interest in them. As though contaminated by Yami's good nature, the boy smiled as well and said something that was very long and sounded like he was clicking his tongue and making popping sounds with his lips. When he saw that Yami and the Pharaoh stare back at him with blank faces, he blushed.

"Hebrews…see my eyes…call me `Seth,'" the boy said. He was ready to throw away his old name, his horrible past, if need be, if could be adopted into a good family here in this foreign land and forget about the horrible incident that happened in his village before he was brought here.

"Seth is it…" the Pharaoh confirmed. Seth affirmed with a small bob of his head. The Pharaoh nodded and mentally shook away the thought that had initially gnawed at the back of his mind when he heard the name. "Seth" means "appointed" in the language of the slaves…but it is also a variation of "Set"…the god of Chaos and Destruction…

"Well," the Pharaoh announced, clapping his hands together to get Yami's attention. "Since it's settled that Seth will be staying with us now, I suppose we should take him back to the palace to get cleaned up."

"Palace…?" Seth parroted. He's heard the merchant say before in his vermin voice about how some slaves may make some good money in the palace. Piecing the vaguely familiar word in his mind with his own word, his eyes widened when the two pieces clicked. "You…from the palace…?" Not waiting for an answer, he quickly got on his knees, lowering his head. Yami rushed to get him to stand back up, away from the filth that was on the dirt floor. "Yes," Yami said, "Yes, we're from the palace, but don't kneel like a slave. I said that you're going to be my friend, didn't I?"

"I-I'll be honored…" Seth stammered. The Pharaoh smiled lightly, the thought of this boy's name completely out of mind now. How can such a timid and gentle-looking boy who gets nervous at everything be named after the god of Chaos and Destruction? It must just be a Hebrew who got frightened by his blue eyes. He walked over to Seth and picked the skinny boy up, not caring that his own clothes will be soiled by the dirty rags that Seth was wearing, and hoisted him up on his shoulders. "Then we should be going," the Pharaoh said, signaling for a pouting Yami to follow along.

***

Ptolemy paced around the top of the staircase in front of the palace gates. He had been waiting here since Ra had shown his face over the palace, and yet his brother was nowhere to be found; he didn't even show up for the morning audience! Nearly fuming, he snapped at the fifth unfortunate slave who approached him to ask if he would like to wait inside in the shade of the palace before Ra's might knocked him to ground. Grunting angrily as the frightened slave scurried away, Ptolemy went back to his thoughts, to the proposal he had for his brother today, which just a revision of the one that he'd been preaching for the past three years-to allow his son, Akhenaton, to join the Shadow Games. Each half year he had proposed the idea to his brother, the Pharaoh, and each year he was refused. Gnashing his teeth at the thought of his brother's last humiliating rejection of his proposal, Ptolemy sped up his pacing.

"Ptolemy, what are you doing?" the Pharaoh asked, reaching the top of the staircase to see his younger and very agitated brother nearly pacing a trench into the ground.

"Ah, dear brother!" Ptolemy exclaimed, a fake smile fashioned to the best he can cracking over his face. "Where in the world were you? I was worried sick!" In truth, he would rather that the Pharaoh be killed in some freak accident and take his abnormal-looking prince with him.

"Just out on the markets, Ptolemy, did you have something you want to ask me?" the Pharaoh asked, placing Seth gently onto the ground. Seth looked up at Ptolemy and noted, with his keen blue eyes, that the man had a strange and slightly aggravating feature, both in looks and in spirit. Ptolemy had a tall, long nose, just like Seth had heard from the descriptions of Egyptians that travelers told in his old village. The man wore a fluffy wig that was fashioned to a collar length on his head with a gold headband securing it in place. Although he also smelled of gold and oils like the Pharaoh, Seth thought that Ptolemy's scent was putrid compared to the regal smell that the Pharaoh held. He edged away from Ptolemy and towards Yami.

"Why I…" Ptolemy started but then sniffed with abnormally large nostrils on his tall nose. "What is THAT?" he demanded, showing an obvious amount of disgust in his eyes as he peered down at Seth.

"He's Seth," explained the Pharaoh, "Yami's friend from a foreign land. We're keeping him in the palace."

"It's a pile of pure filth!" Ptolemy exclaimed, pulling out a silk handkerchief and waving it under his long nose, fanning away the sour scent that covered Seth due to his stay at the small shop dungeon.

"Stop addressing Seth like he's an object!" Yami shouted, offended.

"SO sorry, my dear Prince and nephew," Ptolemy droned, his voice thick with sarcasm. The Pharaoh sighed and shook his head. He knew that his son hated Ptolemy, who was the High Priest only because of the appointment of the late Pharaoh, their father and Yami's grandfather, but there was really nothing he can do about it. If he were to favor his son, which he thirsted to do, Ptolemy would give him incredible hell with his prattling. But if he were to do nothing, Yami would continue to show disrespect towards Ptolemy. As much as the man deserved it, the Pharaoh still didn't encourage it, thinking that it would ruin his son's image.

"I plan to have him educated by Yami's scribe Shimon," the Pharaoh announced.

"You can't be serious!" Ptolemy shouted, alarmed. "Slaves should never be educated, and this boy is no exception, whether or NOT he's a foreigner." He then studied Seth a bit more closely and then stepped back. "A Belgae!" he screeched, waving his handkerchief over-dramatically. "Those blasphemous foreigners… Brother, you can't be serious when you say you're keeping this boy. I've heard things from travelers. They say that the Belgae are really devils with wings in disguise, waiting for right moment to pounce on you and eat your children! And his blue eyes…atrociously abnormal…" His extended finger pointed at Seth's blue eyes, making the tiny boy cover them self-consciously.

"Well, I am. And your theory of the Belgae goes right up there with your thoughts that the ka does not really need a body to go back to in the afterlife and thus we should stop embalmment altogether," the Pharaoh ground out, getting impatient at Ptolemy's screeching voice. "And please tell me what is it that you want so that I may go on with my daily duties. I'm a busy man."

"Ah yes!" Ptolemy recalled. "I am here to propose that my son be allowed to join the Shadow…"

"Rejected," the Pharaoh interrupted. He then summoned a servant, thinking that the conversation was over. "Take this boy inside and clean him up, will you? And give him something decent to wear."

"Amenhotep!" Ptolemy shrieked, his anger frothing out from his mouth as his nostrils flared. "Don't you reject my proposal again! Why is it that your son of eight summers, four summers younger than my son, be allowed and mine not?!"

The Pharaoh spun around on his heels and glared daggers at his younger brother. "Ptolemy," he hissed, "Don't you dare address me by name. Even if you're my brother, you are still the High Priest and I the Pharaoh. Know your place." With that, he blocked out all that was his brother for the rest of the trip back into the palace, ignoring the sneer that was thrown towards him. He patted Seth's head as the nervous youth was lead away by a smiling female servant, oblivious to the hatred that was being channeled towards him.

Seth cast one last glance at Ptolemy before he was lead inside by the soft hand that encircled his, the owner of it a smiling, slightly darker woman with a kind voice. The glare that Ptolemy shot back at him was full of such pure hatred it sent shivers down Seth's spine.

To be continued…

The name Ptolemy was stolen from the name of Cleopatra's father, Ptolemy XII, but this one isn't a true historical character. Also, I mixed up the family tree of the Egyptian rulers of this time a bit, and you'll understand my doings as this story progresses (another reason is to fit Yami in here). As of now, Seth is still the kind, gentle little boy he started out as, but that will change fast… Oh, and Shimon is the name of Sugoroku in Egypt, as JUMP had made it. He was the scribe/adviser of Yami.

For those who are also reading and following the sequel to this, you might have a bit of a clue at who exactly is the person in Kaiba's dreams now, right?