Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ The Man Or The Dragon ❯ The Man or the Dragon ( Chapter 1 )

~The Man or the Dragon~

By DarkFoxy

~I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! The characters in this story, or anything else that has been patented! If I did then I would be insanely rich, I definitely wouldn't need to be writing fanfictions, and the show would be a little different, heh heh heh. So anyway, DON'T sue me because all you will get will be six fifty in loose change, my school supplies, and an enormous lawyer bill.~

In Ancient Egypt, there was once a Pharaoh who delighted in imagining himself to be both clever and barbaric. Though his outward appearance and general personality were both bland and friendly, he had within him a core of ruthlessness; given to lengthy self communion, when the Pharaoh decided he wanted something to be done, it was done. In fact, he took the greatest pleasure in smoothing out bumps in the justice system and correcting problems with the people. Fancying himself to be just such a man, he was known through the whole of Egypt for his bizarre habits and ways of dealing with people. Of all the strangeness, however, the most peculiar was his method of trial.

Among the bizarre notions that the Pharaoh had exported into Egypt and solidified into culture, was that of a public arena. In it, the exhibition of manly and beastly valor was put on display for the refined and cultured minds of his subjects. However, in his peculiarity, the Pharaoh had let even this event become influenced by his somewhat barbaric nature. The arena was not built to give his people the entertainment of dying gladiators or the conflict between hungry jaws and sharp swords, but for a purpose to better develop the mental energies of the people. The amphitheater was an agent of poetic justice, in which crime was punished, or virtue rewarded, by the decrees of an impartial and incorruptible chance.

When a subject was accused of a crime of sufficient importance to interest the king, public notice was given that on an appointed day the fate of the accused would be decided in the king's arena. The arena, however, though from a plan borrowed from afar, had a purpose that emanated solely from the brain of the Pharaoh, who, knew no tradition to which he owed more of a liking and that pleased his fancy.

When all the people had assembled in the galleries of the arena, and the Pharaoh, surrounded by his priests, sat high up on his throne of royal state on one side of the arena, he gave a signal and a door beneath him opened and the accused subject stepped out into the amphitheater. Directly opposite the accused on the other side of the arena, were two doors, exactly alike, and side by side. It was then the duty and privilege of the person on trial to walk directly to these doors and open one of them. He could open whichever door he pleased and he was subject to no guidance or influence but that of the afore-mentioned impartial and incorruptible chance. For, if he opened the one door, out came of it a hungry dragon, the fiercest and most cruel one that could be procured, which would immediately spring upon him and tear him to pieces as punishment of his guilt. The moment that the case of the criminal was thus decided, doleful iron bells (also exported from other countries) would sound, great wails would go up fromt he hired mourners posted on the outer rim of the arena, and the vast audience with bowed heads and downcast hearts, wended slowly their homeward way, mourning that one so young and fair, or so old and respected, should have merited so dire a fate.

However, if the accused person should open the other door, there came forth from it a lady, or a man, the most suitable to the accused in age and station as the Pharaoh could select from among his subjects, and to this person the accused was immediately married, as a reward of his innocence. It mattered not that he might already possess a wife and family, or that his affections might be otherwise engaged, the Pharaoh allowed no such trifles to interfere with his great scheme of retribution and reward. The exercise, as in the instance with the dragon, took place immediately, and in the arena. Another door opened beneath the king, and a priest, followed by a band and dancing maidens blowing joyous airs on pipes, advanced to where the pair stood side by side. The wedding was promptly and cheerily solemnized before the crowd and gay brass bells rang forth their merry song, and the people shouted glad 'huzzah!'s and the innocent man led his bride to a waiting chariot where they would be taken to a piece of land, chosen by the Pharaoh, to start their new life.

This was the king's semi barbaric method of administering justice. Its perfect fairness is obvious. The criminal could not know out of which door would come the fiancé: he opened either he pleased, without having the slightest idea whether, in the next moment, he was to be devoured or married. On some occasions the dragon come out of one door, and on some out of the other. The decisions of this trial were not only fair, they were positively determinate: the accused was instantly punished if he found himself guilty; and if innocent, he was rewarded on the spot...whether he liked it or not. There was no escape from the judgments of the king's arena.

The trial of the arena was a very popular institution. When the people gathered into the galleries on a trial day, they had no idea whether they were going to witness a bloody slaughter or a hilarious wedding. this element of uncertainty lent an interest to the occasion which it could not otherwise have attained. Thus the masses were entertained and pleased, and the thinking part of the community could bring no charge of unfairness against this plan; for did not the accused person have the whole matter in his own hands?

This somewhat barbaric Pharaoh had a son as handsome as any of the Pharaoh's fancies were wild, and with a soul as fervent and imperious as his own. As is usual in As is usual in such cases, the prince, Yami by name, was the apple of the Pharaoh's eye, and was loved by him above all humanity. Among the Pharaoh's priests there was a young man of that fineness of blood and lowness of station common to the conventional heroes of romance; strong, able-bodied, handsome, just, and a lover to none other than the royal prince. This prince was well satisfied with his lover, for the priest, Seto, was handsome and brave to a degree unsurpassed in all of Egypt, and he loved him with an ardor with enough barbarism in it to make it exceedingly warm and strong.

This love-affair lasted happily for many months, until one day the Pharaoh happened to discover its existence. He did not hesitate nor waver in regard to his duty in the premises. Seto was immediately cast into prison, and a day was appointed for his trial in the king's arena. This, of course, was an especially important occasion, and his majesty, as well as all the people, were greatly interested in the workings and development of this trial. Never before had such a case occurred; never before had a subject dared to love the son of a king. In after years such things become commonplace enough; but then they were, in no slight degree, novel and startling.

The dragon caves of the kingdom were searched for the most savage and relentless beasts, from which the fiercest monster was selected for the arena; the ranks of beautiful youths throughout the land were carefully surveyed by competent judges, in order that Seto might have a fitting husband in case fate did not determine for him a different destiny. Of course everybody knew that the deed with which the accused was charged had been done. He had loved Yami, and neither of them, nor anyone else thought of denying the fact, but the Pharaoh would not think of allowing any fact of this kind to interfere with the workings of the trial, in which he took such great delight and satisfaction. No matter how the affair turned out, Seto would be disposed of, and the king would take an aesthetic pleasure in watched the course of events, which would determine whether or not the young man had done wrong in allowing himself to love the prince.

The appointed day arrived. From far and near the people fathered and crushed themselves into the great galleries of the arena; the crowds that were unable to gain admittance massed themselves against its outside walls. The Pharaoh and his court were in their places, opposite the twin doors-those fateful portals, so terrible in their similarity.

All was ready. The signal was given. A door beneath the royal party opened, and the lover of the prince walked into the arena. Tall, beautiful, fair, his appearance was greeted with a low hum of admiration and anxiety. Half the audience had not been aware that so grand a youth had lived among them. No wonder the prince loved him! What a terrible thing for him to be in the arena!

As Seto advanced intot he arena, he turned, as was the custom, to bow to the Pharaoh...but he did not think at all of that royal idiot. His eyes were fixed on Yami, who sat to the right of his father. From the moment that the decree had gone forth that his lover should decide his fate in the king's arena, Yami had thought of nothing, night or day, but this great event and the various subjects connected with it. Possessed of more power, influence, and force of character than any one wo had ever before been interested in such a case, he had done what no other person had done-Yami had possessed himself of the secret of the doors. He knew in which of the two rooms that lay behind those doors stood the starving dragon, and in which waited another youth. Through these thick doors, heavily curtained with skins on the inside, it was impossible that any noise or suggestion should come from within to the person who should approach to raise the latch of one of them; but gold and the power of a prince's will had brought the secret to Yami.

And not only did Yami know in which room stood the youth ready to emerge, all blushing and radiant, should his door be opened, but Yami knew who the youth was. It was one of the fairest and handsomest of the men of the court who had been selected as the reward of the accused priest, should he be proved innocent of the crime of aspiring to one so far above him; and Yami hated the youth. Often he had seen this fair youth, Jou by name, throwing glances of admiration upon the person of Yami's lover, and sometimes she had thought these glances were perceived and even returned. Now and then he had seen them talking together; it was but for a moment or two, but much can be said in a brief space; it may have been on most unimportant topics, but how could he know that? The youth was handsome, but had dared to raise his eyes to the loved one of the prince, and, with all the intensity of the savage blood transmitted to him through long lines of wholly barbaric ancestors, Yami hated the man who blushed and trembled behind that silent door.

When Seto turned and looked at her, and his eyes met his as he sat there paler and whiter than any one of the vast ocean of anxious faces about him, he saw, by that power of quick perception which is given to those whose souls are one, that Yami knew behind which door crouched the dragon, and behind which stood the youth. He had expected him to know it. Seto understood Yami's nature, and his soul was assured that Yami would never rest until he had made plain to himself this thing, hidden to all other bystanders, even to the Pharaoh. The only hope for Seto in which there was any element of certainty was based upon the success of the prince in discovering this mystery. The moment Seto looked upon Yami, he saw he had succeeded, as in his soul he knew Yami would succeed.

Then it was that his quick and anxious glance asked the question, "Which?" It was as plain to Yami as if Seto had shouted it from where he stood. There was not an instant to be lost. The question was asked in a flash, it must be answered in another.

Yami's right arm lay on the cushioned parapet before him. He raised his hand, and made a slight, quick movement toward the right. No one but his lover saw him. Every eye but his was fixed on the man in the arena.

Seto turned, and with a firm and rapid step he walked across the empty space. Every heart stopped beating, every breath was held, every eye was fixed immovably upon that man. Without the slightest hesitation he went to the door on the right and opened it.

Now, the point of the story is this: Did the dragon come out of the door, or did the youth?

The more we reflect upon this question the harder it is to answer. It involves ta study of the human heart which leads us through devious mazes of passion, out of which itt is difficult to find our way. Think of it, fair reader, not as if the decision of the question depended upon yourself, but upon that hot blooded, semi barbaric prince, his soul at a white heat beneath the combined fires of despair and jealousy. Yami had lost Seto, but who should have him?

How often, in Yami's waking hours and in his dreams, had he stared in wild horror and covered his face with his hands as he thought of his lover opening the door on the other side of which waited the cruel fangs of the dragon!

But how much oftener had Yami seen Seto at the other door! How in his grievous reveries had he gnashed his teeth and torn his hair when he saw Seto's start of rapturous delight as he opened the door of the youth! How Yami's soul had burned in agony when he had seen Seto rush to meet Jou, with his flushing cheek and sparkling eye of triumph; when Yami had seen Seto lead Jou forth, his whole frame kindled with the joy of recovered life; when Yami had heard the glad shouts from the multitude, and the wild ringing of the happy bells; when Yami had seen the priest with his joyous followers advance to the couple and make them married before his very eyes; and when Yami had seen them walk away together upon their path of flowers followed by the tremendous shouts of the hilarious multitude, in which his one despairing shriek was lost and drowned! Seto leading Jou away to the chariot to a plot of land as far from the palace as the Pharaoh could make it...

Would it not be better for Seto to die at once, and go to wait for Yami in the blessed regions of the afterlife?

And yet, that awful dragon, those shrieks, that blood! Yami loved Seto!

Yami's decision had been indicated in an instant, but it had been made after days and nights of anguished deliberation. He had known that he would be asked, had decided what he would answer, and, without the slightest hesitation, had moved his hand to the right.

The question of his decision is one not to be lightly considered, and it is not for me to presume to set myself up ast he one person able to answer it. And so I leave it with all of you: Which came out of the opened door-the man or the dragon?