Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Empty Sands ❯ Chapter 3

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
Title: Empty Sands 3/?

Author: Niu Shiy-Ue

Pairings: SetoxMokuba. Kinda, anyway

OCs: Minor

Archive: MM.org

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Sethos stared at Moswen, who looked as if he was about to pass out. This was quite understandable because the vase that Sethos had just thrown only missed his head by a hair's width. For a few moments, both were too shocked to speak. Then Moswen broke the silence, "D-did I come at a b-bad time?"

Sethos silently cursed himself. He and Moswen were going to be spending a lot of time together, so he had been trying to lessen the boy's nervousness. This was hardly the best way to do it. "I am sorry, I thought you were my body-slave."

"So you tried to kill me!?!" Sethos glared down at him and the boy shrank back again, reminded of his place. "No, I was trying to get him to go away. The duty of a body-slave is to relax his or her master, not add to whatever frustrations he or she has. Fenuku was not doing a good job of that."

"I see." At least Moswen had stopped constantly refering to him as 'my Pharoah', 'sire' or 'Master'. "What did you come here for in the first place?"

"Ah, yes." He raised the wax tablet he had been carrying. "These are the preliminary plans for the remodeling of the garden. I wanted to show them to you before setting them down on papyrus, in case you had any changes to make." Sethos reached out and took the tablet. He had bad memories of Akunumkanon's private suite, the only times he had been royal quarters was when he was being punished during his training. He had had Moswen renovate the rooms, and Moswen had displayed a precocious talent for both architecture, design and organization. It was unfortunate that the talent did not appear to be crossing over to his studies, Moswen was far behind what Sethos had hoped when he had started tutoring him. Still, if this next assignement was well done, he would consider allowing Moswen to participate in the creation of Pharoah Atemu's tomb.

"I do not like it."

"I am sorry, my Pharoah. What about the design displeases you?"

"It is almost perfect. However it needs more symetry." Violet eyes blinked, confusion apparent in their depths. "I thought having such exacting precision would make the garden too rigid."

"Why?" The younger boy struggled for a reply. "The s-servants in m-my father's h-house said that a garden is the household shrine to Geb. Not enough control and it becomes like the desert beyond Kemet, wild and unproductive. Too much control and it no longer reflects his nature." Sethos nodded. "A good answer. But change it anyway."

"Yes, si-" Another glare cut him off. "s-Sethos."

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Sethos tried to supress a wince as Moswen continued to talk. He was the Pharoah, Ammet be damned, he was not going to show any sign of humanity to an inferior! Over the past weeks, he had gotten more and more stressed and nothing seemed to relieve the pressure between his shoulder blades. "-and Isis has requested to that she-"

"Stop" Moswen halted his summary of the day's reports. "What did you just say?"

"I said that Isis has requested to be allowed to cull this year's finishing acolytes for new Grave Guardians."

"Isis?" He bit his lip, embarrased to be caught in another mistake. "I'm sorry, sire. I mean, High Priestess Isetnofret has re-"

"Why did you call her Isis?" Sethos had never heard Isetnofret being called that way. "She said I could, my Pharoah."

"Hmph. Her request is approved, you can put my seal on it. Was there anything else?"

"Only that the garden was finished, Master. Would you care to look at it?" He nodded and stood up. Perhaps a walk would help clear his head.

The garden was lovely. It was bisected on the diagonal by a water canal, and quartered by four gravel paths. Geranium and papyrus were a backdrop for chrysantheums and red poppies. Willows and palm trees provided shade, a few henna bushes in the corners and clinging jasmine on the walls, fragrance. The whole thing circled around the central pond edged in water lilies and cornflowers. In the center of the pond were a clump of blue lotuses, Sethos's own favorite flowers. "You have done a good job here." he said, sitting down on one of the white stone benches carefully placed throughout.

"Thank you, my Pharoah." Moswen bowed, and he might have blushed, but his long hair blocked the view of his face. "Um, excuse me for saying this, but you seem very tense tonight."

"I don't need to explain myself to you!"

"Of course not, sire. I'll leave then." He had did it again! He was so used to being autocratic, but that wasn't the basis of a good working relationship. "I . . . should not have snapped at you like that, Moswen."

"S-sethos?"

"Do you remember a few weeks ago, when I nearly took your head off with that vase?" A nod and a suppressed shudder. "After a few more incidents like that, I sent Fenuku off to the quarries. Since then I have not found another body-slave to serve my needs." He expected Moswen to nod and leave after that. Instead, he appeared to be thinking about what had been said. "Maybe I can help."

He was standing behind him before Sethos could ask what he meant by that statement. Nimble fingers quickly took off his headress and undid the catches on the heavy ankh and other jewelry. Then Moswen placed his hands on Sethos's shoulders and pressed down with his thumbs. He started kneading the tension out of the stiff muscles.

Sethos stifled a moan. Moswen seemed to know exactly where the knots and kinks were and how to work them out. "You're very good at this."

"I always wanted to be useful when I was little, well when I was littler. This was something I could do to help everyone, my father, my brother, my mother when she was alive." Skilled hands moved down his back. "I'm not all that good."

"Hmmm. On the contrary, this is very good." He half turned to look Moswen in the eye. Once again, he was struck by their unusual coloring. "I've half a mind to make you my new body-slave instead." Was that a flicker of dismay in those purple eyes? It pricked at his pride and firmed his decision. "Yes, I think I will do that. From now on, in addition to your studies and your duties as my assistant you will also help as my personal servant in the evenings."

Apprehension of some sort, definitely. But then the other bent his head in submission. "As you wish, my Pharoah."

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AN: Is Sethos starting to come off as a prick to anyone? Because he's supposed to.

Fenuku (who has now been banished to the quarries and will almost certainly never show up again) means 'late born'.

Short, short chapter. Whenever I write a multi-chapter, they always seem to come out so . . . chibi.