Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ The Unforgiven Outcast ❯ Transaction ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

I do not own Yuugiou but I do own My OC’s.
Chapter one
~Transaction~

A loud crash reverberated through the mighty halls of Kemet’s palace. Thunderous shouts spread through the rooms. A furious pharaoh stood over his son, a frown cast over his delicate features. “Atemu.” He shook his head, pointing to the pot that had been used to toss at the guards. “You are sixteen floods now, you need to act responsibly.” He chided.

Atemu crossed his arms, his tanned skin glowing and obviously just oiled. A smirk made his way on his once emotionless face. Crimson eyes stared coldly at his ‘father’. “Per A’ah, What responsibility would I have? For whatever I do, you will punish that whipping boy in my place.” His smirk grew, “Such is the fate of those born under a future Pharaoh.” He said nonchalantly.

The other male was taken back by his son’s statement. “I think it is high time You saw the boy get whipped. You are old enough to know what it is YOU do to your people. He has been whipped for you for years, granted he is mute and obviously not all there, he has turned into a lifeless shell. You, Dear Atemu, are the most ill-mannered heir in the history of KEMET!”

The future Pharaoh cried out as large finger wound through his hair, pulling him in the direction of the whipping boy’s room. “For EVERY transaction you commit, that boy suffers, and yet you do not seem to care.”

At this point, Atemu was clawing at his hair, helplessly watching the hieroglyphic images pass by his line of sight. He was vaguely aware of the darkening room, as they reached their destination. “Ra has shunned him, he was obviously from a family that was touched my Amoset!” He cried out frantically as he was tossed in the dark room.

Dark brown eyes looked down at Atemu. “You will watch, look away and there will be more.” The Pharaoh looked to the man who held a whip. He motioned for the torches to be lit.

As light flooded into the room, a shackled figure could be seen, pale skin shimmered under the torch, giving the form an ethereal glow. Dull violet eyes looked passively at Atemu, as if they was deciding his worth. Long raven hair seemed to cascade down his back. What looked like silk at one point had been ratted up with blood and sweat.

Atemu ran a hand nervously through his hair, running first through golden bangs, then through black spikes that ended in crimson. He did not like the look he was getting. It was co cold and calculating, as though the small form that lay brokenly on the floor was the judge of Ra himself.

“Thirty lashes.” The Pharaoh said in a calm voice, showing not even the slightest bit of emotion. Atemu felt his breath hitch as the man with the flail-like whip stepped towards the boy.

“My Pharaoh, Would you like the prince to hold the boy strait?” he asked, only receiving a nod. The man hoisted the boy up, placing him roughly in Atemu’s arms.

Crimson eyes went wide as the young Pharaoh-to-be felt just how soft the small boy was. He took in the strange scent that he carried. Freesia? He found himself wondering how someone who had not had a bath in years could smell like Freesia.

Before he could think anything else, a loud crack filled his ears. He felt it, the first time the whip cracked down, he could feel it in his own skin. He looked down into the violet eyes, frowning when not even the slightest hint of pain or emotion showed. “S-stop...” He whispered, but the guard did not listen.

The Pharaoh stood, watching his son, watching the impassive whipping boy. He remembered the first time the boy what whipped. Atemu had gone missing, no doubt playing with the dirty thief that had been put to death recently. They had just brought the boy from his home. He had been there, watching as the small boy of six floods was given forty lashes. He did not move, just stared back impassively as he was now. A single tear had fallen from his face, and that was it.

“S-Stop!” Atemu said with more force as he felt another blow. Still there was nothing in the boys face that said he felt any of the lashes. Somehow, somewhere, Atemu knew, he knew the boy felt all the pain. He hissed putting his arm out to block the whip. He bit back a cry of pain as the leather wrapped around his arm.

The male tugged the whip out of the guard’s hands, snarling. “Stop!” he shouted, pulling the small boy closer to him.

Brown eyes went wide. The Pharaoh had not been expecting compassion from his son, let alone for him to actually stop what was happening. Never had any stopped a whipping. He was taken back once more this day by his son’s actions. What shocked him more was the boy. The nine years he had been there, never once had he showed any emotion, or made any motions on his own, yet he was looking up, a small hand wiping a small tear from his son’s face.

Atemu got a sickened feeling when he saw the small smile on the whipping boy’s face. “T-Tears.” The word was uttered softly, and was horse from many years of not using.

The Pharaoh was amazed further at that. The boy was said to be an invalid and a mute. Here the boy was, uttering sounds. He looked to the man who had once held the now discarded whip. He was at as much of a loss as his lord.

Atemu felt a hand on his shoulder, turning he saw his nurse maid Isis. “My Lord Per A’ah.” She looked up at her Pharaoh. “There is an emergency for you.” She murmured, returning her gaze to the teen and his bundle. She had seen the whipping boy from far away, but never up close before. The priestess gave a look of disgust to the whip.

The Pharaoh nodded, starting towards the door. He turned, “Bring the boy to the throne room.” He said in a cool voice before heading off. He had an idea of what it was that was going on.

He did not even stray a look at his son, as he knew the boy was probably savagely ripped from his arms. He simply shrugged it off, hoping it would teach his son a lesson. He approached the throne room, straitening his shenti out before her entered.

As he sat in the stone chair, he noticed the figure being held to the floor by a booted foot. “What fool did they bring in trying to save in invalid this time?” He asked, his voice cold and uncompassionate.

The figure looked up with clear clue eyes, filled with malice and scorn. “May Amoset curse you!” The woman spat as a guard pulled on her brown hair. “Give him back and perhaps we can let your transactions pass, b-but hear me, under Amoset’s grace, we will get our leader back!”

“The boy is an invalid, his parents where followers of Amoset, like you.” The Pharaoh shrugged, “You, Anzu, know better than to step into the house of Ra.” He lifted his head in thought, snapping his fingers as his son was brought into the room.

Anzu growled, trying to break free. “You! Give him back!” she snapped, getting pulled back into firm arms. “Give him back now.” She fell to the floor with a thud as a foot came crashing down on her.

Atemu looked at the girl, seeing she was marked as one of Amoset’s followers. He had no idea who she was talking about, but he figured she would be bead long before she saw the one she wanted to see. He frowned when he heard his fathers words.

“Bring hin in.” They rang through the teen’s skull. His father was appeasing a follower of the condemned?

The doors opened, revealing the small figure that had been pulled away from him. His breath hitched, seeing the bloody back. They had finished whipping him after they had removed Atemu from the room? He looked to his father, obviously confused.

“Fifty.” The word sent shivers down Atemu’s spine. He did not even know the boy, yet here he was, feeling what could only be describes as compassion. The small figure looked at Atemu, dim eyes, looking as though the last bit of fire would soon go out. “Then kill the girl in front of him.” Atemu’s eyes went wide.

The Whipping Boy? He was the one that the condemned was looking for? He cringed, hearing the whip crack down on raw flesh. The boy would die if this continued. After the death of his mother, none thought the prince to show kindness to anyone. “Father, stop this.” He pleaded, his voice hardly a whisper.

The pharaoh looked over at his son, lifting his hand. The room halted. Atemu went flying across the floor, sliding to a stop in front of the boy. “Continue.” He said, his voice cold. He would not take orders from his son, nor a suggestion from any other than his high council.

Atemu’s face stung. His father had hit him? Why? He had been sent flying, and then he knew he would have to stop it on his own. He was only inches from a follower of one who would kill him at first chance. Yet, the girl did nothing as she stared at the small, emotionless form in front of him.

Crimson met dull amethyst once more. His breathing was labored as he watched the body on the floor. He felt blood splatter across his face. “Stop.” Tears came into his crimson eyes as he took hold of the whip. “Stop this.” He felt the leather on his flesh once more as he pulled. “Leave him be!” the prince snapped.

Shadows filled the room, the torches going out. The Pharaoh frowned, confused for a moment. A golden light seemed to fill the strange shadows. The ruler of Kemet was unsure of where the golden light was coming from, but he knew it was one of the two figures.

Crimson eyes took in the small figure now wrapped in his arms. “I had said, stop.” Atemu turned, looking at his father. Both he and the boy in his arms held a strange golden glow. The world around seemed to be frozen to all but the three of them.

Broken eyes looked up at the man who had put him there. “May Ra bless you.” The words were not spoken, yet could be heard clearly. It was as though the boy held no bitterness towards those who had hurt him for most of his life.

The shadows slowly began to recede, like the ebbing tide. Soon all that was left was a feint shimmer as the small figure closed his eyes, giving into exhaustion. Atemu looked at his father. “He is my whipping boy, and so his punishments and care are mine.” His voice was cold, holding no room for argument as he walked out.

The woman lay in a forgotten heap. She was lifted, and with a wave from the Pharaoh, led down into the dungeon.

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