Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ The Unforgiven Outcast ❯ Ties that Bind ( Chapter 2 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Omichan 
Anime/Manga: Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 06.29.2006 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.6K | Visits: 364 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 06.29.2006 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.6K | Visits: 364 | Status: Work In Progress
Do not Own Yuugiou I only own My OC’s
What the hell, I was up last night writing, so you guys can read this. You better keep me on my toes to get me to write more though.
Chapter 2
~Ties that Bind~
Crimson eyes gazed down at the figure lying still on the stone bed. A tanned hand caressed a pale cheek, causing the older male to blush when he noticed just how soft the other’s skin was. Atemu sighed deeply, seemingly content to just gaze at the picture placed before him. He looked at the tormented angel, eyes softened when is let them fall on the boy.
It was hard to believe that this boy was only a year younger than him. The Pharaoh-to-be did not notice the raven haired woman with kind brown eyes slowly enter the room. “Prince, may I tend to the boy?” Isis asked, placing a small olive tinted hand on the soon-to-be-ruler’s shoulder, pushing him back slightly.
She inspected the boy, wincing when she moved him to his stomach. Blistering wounds covered his back, festering and oozing out blood and puss. Atemu closed his eyes tightly, not wanting to even gaze at the mess that He himself had created.
The woman bit her lip, shaking her head, seeing the many scars that danced across the young boys back. She looked to the older male. “Atemu.” Her voice was serious, and the teen knew she had to have been to call him by his birth name. “That light everyone is talking about, was it you?” Her voice wavered a bit, obviously distressed.
“I-I do not know.” Was the only reply the woman got. She seemed to accept it as she went to work.
She walked to the door, grabbing a servant. He looked at the woman as though she were a god herself. He bowed low and quickly went off to fetch her some heated water from the kitchens. She took a bowl of cool water and produced a powder of some sort, quickly letting her fingers moved around until the water turned into a paste.
The woman took out some bandages, putting them inside the paste, making sure it soaked through. She left them there as she went out to the hall where the boy had knocked. With a quick ‘thank you’, she took the water and began to rip her robes, realizing she did not have an adequate cloth to clean the boys wounds.
Atemu watched as the woman tried to tear her clothes. Seeing this, Atemu quickly tore a large chunk off his shenti, presenting it to her. She gave him a curt nod, letting the warm water soak into the white cloth.
Atemu’s gaze became transfixed as the once white cloth turned pink, stained with the blood of an angel. He looked away in shame, knowing it was his fault.
When she was done, Isis took the bandages she had soaked and wound them tightly around the boy before getting fresh ones and covering his back and shoulders with them. After what seemed like forever, the woman stood. “Atemu, be wary.” She warned, pointing to the boy. “He started out as a child of the god Amoset.” She shook her head, glad that he had not made it to the age where they were branded with the mark.
Atemu nodded his head, looking to the floor in shame. His family had killed many of the Dark God’s followers. “Alright Isis.” He said, placing his head in his hands. He let his eyes go to the impossibly pale boy. “Um, Isis?” The woman looked at her future Pharaoh. “Is he going to be alright?”
She gave him a small smile. “Physically, Yes.” She nodded her head, saying nothing about his mental state. She had been surprised to find the boy had conscious thought.
Ruby eyes looked sadly forward before the ruler stood, unable to gaze at the boy any longer. With a deep sigh and a heavy heart, he left the room.
-The Boy’s Mind-
Everything was cold, so cold. The small form was huddled in a corner of the dark void. His soul was lost inside the nothingness. It had been lost for so long. He cried, the tears never stopping. If he let the pain out in his mind, there would be no need to show them what he felt on the outside. He could hide his soul away forever.
Crystal-like tears floated around the boy, never truly falling from his large amethyst eyes.
He cried.
He cried remembering the death of his mother, her lifeless mahogany eyes staring always. Her hand, it always seemed to me reaching out to him. Her body, always dumped in a pool of crimson. Angry crimson, a color he seemed so fond of.
He cried remembering the death of his father, his lavender eyes gazing at his son, trying in vain to reach him, even in death. His, once strong, hands limp and cold with death. His body, severed. Angry crimson, a color he seemed so fond of.
He never once cried for himself. He never cared about his own well-being. Instead, he cried for the Pharaoh. He cried, knowing that he had the heart to do what he did to the boy. He cried and cried, but never once did a floating tear actually drop.
The small soul suddenly stopped. He opened his hazy eyes, noticing the light that seemed to dance in front of him. The pain, had stopped. He had heard the order, then retreated, counting, waiting. Then, as suddenly as the lashes started, they stopped.
Violet eyes gazed up in wonder, seeing crimson, just an angry crimson. The anger turned to shock before the boys eyes. That was all he knew as he got lost in their depths. He almost let out a whimper as he was ripped from the source of his comfort. As quickly as he had come out of the void, he retreated.
The small boy felt cold once more, his eyes looked onward, hauntingly. He knew about pain, knew that he would get more. When the lashes started, he did not cry. He was too numb. He was vaguely aware of his body being taken from the dark room.
With the revelation, he quickly retreated further into his mind, knowing that as far back as he went, the less the outside world would affect him. He started to run, run from everything. He ran from the tears, he ran from the dark, he ran from the pain. The boy simply ran.
He shuddered, halting. What was that feeling? That voice? Everything was so new to the small boy. He felt pain wash over him in waves. He felt the angry crimson eyes. The pain seemed to grow, causing him to cry out in his void.
Screams of pain were cut short as the boy vanished, returning to a brightly lit room with blood covering the walls.
His Room.
At least it had been. It looked like it would have fit a six year-old boy. Scribbled pictures were displayed on the reed-like paper. A small bed was covered in blood, and the boy found himself tracing the dried substance. In the center of the room was a table with many games sprawled out on its surface.
The small teen sighed. “Mother.” He whispered, remembering that this was the room that his parents had been stuck down in. His soul room was decked out the way he had remembered his old room.
A small smile formed on his face, and he knew it was time to let this memory fade. It, after all, was just one of the many ties that seemed to bind him to sorrow. With a blink of an eye, the room was cleansed, the bed, growing until it seemed to be able to swallow the boy. The child-like images faded as the room became more like that of a lonely woman, one who longed to have something other than loneliness.
-Kemet-
Atemu sighed, looking down at the boy. It had been two days, and the young lord had yet to eat anything. He had been too worried about the angel who slept in his bed. More than once, he found himself dosing off, slumping over him from his perch next to the bed.
Isis had been in to check on the boy and saw the tricolor haired teen slumped. “Little prince.” She shook her head, motioning for Mahaado to enter the room. “Mahaado, dear friend, could you place the young lord in his bed?” She asked, motioning to the other side of the small angelic creature he was slumped over.
She checked her charge, noticing his breathing had evened out, and he seemed to be in less pain than before. Further inspection told her that the wounds were no longer festering, and would heal nicely given time. She quickly re-bandaged him, looking over to the dark haired priest. “Thank you.” She whispered, her smile growing as she saw her sleeping lord. When he wasn’t wreaking havoc on the palace, he really was angelic.
A tanned hand wrapped around a pillow, holding it tightly, burring his face in the object as he slept. It was nice to see the future ruler of all Kemet acting like a innocent for once.
O-`-O-`-O
What the hell, I was up last night writing, so you guys can read this. You better keep me on my toes to get me to write more though.
Chapter 2
~Ties that Bind~
Crimson eyes gazed down at the figure lying still on the stone bed. A tanned hand caressed a pale cheek, causing the older male to blush when he noticed just how soft the other’s skin was. Atemu sighed deeply, seemingly content to just gaze at the picture placed before him. He looked at the tormented angel, eyes softened when is let them fall on the boy.
It was hard to believe that this boy was only a year younger than him. The Pharaoh-to-be did not notice the raven haired woman with kind brown eyes slowly enter the room. “Prince, may I tend to the boy?” Isis asked, placing a small olive tinted hand on the soon-to-be-ruler’s shoulder, pushing him back slightly.
She inspected the boy, wincing when she moved him to his stomach. Blistering wounds covered his back, festering and oozing out blood and puss. Atemu closed his eyes tightly, not wanting to even gaze at the mess that He himself had created.
The woman bit her lip, shaking her head, seeing the many scars that danced across the young boys back. She looked to the older male. “Atemu.” Her voice was serious, and the teen knew she had to have been to call him by his birth name. “That light everyone is talking about, was it you?” Her voice wavered a bit, obviously distressed.
“I-I do not know.” Was the only reply the woman got. She seemed to accept it as she went to work.
She walked to the door, grabbing a servant. He looked at the woman as though she were a god herself. He bowed low and quickly went off to fetch her some heated water from the kitchens. She took a bowl of cool water and produced a powder of some sort, quickly letting her fingers moved around until the water turned into a paste.
The woman took out some bandages, putting them inside the paste, making sure it soaked through. She left them there as she went out to the hall where the boy had knocked. With a quick ‘thank you’, she took the water and began to rip her robes, realizing she did not have an adequate cloth to clean the boys wounds.
Atemu watched as the woman tried to tear her clothes. Seeing this, Atemu quickly tore a large chunk off his shenti, presenting it to her. She gave him a curt nod, letting the warm water soak into the white cloth.
Atemu’s gaze became transfixed as the once white cloth turned pink, stained with the blood of an angel. He looked away in shame, knowing it was his fault.
When she was done, Isis took the bandages she had soaked and wound them tightly around the boy before getting fresh ones and covering his back and shoulders with them. After what seemed like forever, the woman stood. “Atemu, be wary.” She warned, pointing to the boy. “He started out as a child of the god Amoset.” She shook her head, glad that he had not made it to the age where they were branded with the mark.
Atemu nodded his head, looking to the floor in shame. His family had killed many of the Dark God’s followers. “Alright Isis.” He said, placing his head in his hands. He let his eyes go to the impossibly pale boy. “Um, Isis?” The woman looked at her future Pharaoh. “Is he going to be alright?”
She gave him a small smile. “Physically, Yes.” She nodded her head, saying nothing about his mental state. She had been surprised to find the boy had conscious thought.
Ruby eyes looked sadly forward before the ruler stood, unable to gaze at the boy any longer. With a deep sigh and a heavy heart, he left the room.
-The Boy’s Mind-
Everything was cold, so cold. The small form was huddled in a corner of the dark void. His soul was lost inside the nothingness. It had been lost for so long. He cried, the tears never stopping. If he let the pain out in his mind, there would be no need to show them what he felt on the outside. He could hide his soul away forever.
Crystal-like tears floated around the boy, never truly falling from his large amethyst eyes.
He cried.
He cried remembering the death of his mother, her lifeless mahogany eyes staring always. Her hand, it always seemed to me reaching out to him. Her body, always dumped in a pool of crimson. Angry crimson, a color he seemed so fond of.
He cried remembering the death of his father, his lavender eyes gazing at his son, trying in vain to reach him, even in death. His, once strong, hands limp and cold with death. His body, severed. Angry crimson, a color he seemed so fond of.
He never once cried for himself. He never cared about his own well-being. Instead, he cried for the Pharaoh. He cried, knowing that he had the heart to do what he did to the boy. He cried and cried, but never once did a floating tear actually drop.
The small soul suddenly stopped. He opened his hazy eyes, noticing the light that seemed to dance in front of him. The pain, had stopped. He had heard the order, then retreated, counting, waiting. Then, as suddenly as the lashes started, they stopped.
Violet eyes gazed up in wonder, seeing crimson, just an angry crimson. The anger turned to shock before the boys eyes. That was all he knew as he got lost in their depths. He almost let out a whimper as he was ripped from the source of his comfort. As quickly as he had come out of the void, he retreated.
The small boy felt cold once more, his eyes looked onward, hauntingly. He knew about pain, knew that he would get more. When the lashes started, he did not cry. He was too numb. He was vaguely aware of his body being taken from the dark room.
With the revelation, he quickly retreated further into his mind, knowing that as far back as he went, the less the outside world would affect him. He started to run, run from everything. He ran from the tears, he ran from the dark, he ran from the pain. The boy simply ran.
He shuddered, halting. What was that feeling? That voice? Everything was so new to the small boy. He felt pain wash over him in waves. He felt the angry crimson eyes. The pain seemed to grow, causing him to cry out in his void.
Screams of pain were cut short as the boy vanished, returning to a brightly lit room with blood covering the walls.
His Room.
At least it had been. It looked like it would have fit a six year-old boy. Scribbled pictures were displayed on the reed-like paper. A small bed was covered in blood, and the boy found himself tracing the dried substance. In the center of the room was a table with many games sprawled out on its surface.
The small teen sighed. “Mother.” He whispered, remembering that this was the room that his parents had been stuck down in. His soul room was decked out the way he had remembered his old room.
A small smile formed on his face, and he knew it was time to let this memory fade. It, after all, was just one of the many ties that seemed to bind him to sorrow. With a blink of an eye, the room was cleansed, the bed, growing until it seemed to be able to swallow the boy. The child-like images faded as the room became more like that of a lonely woman, one who longed to have something other than loneliness.
-Kemet-
Atemu sighed, looking down at the boy. It had been two days, and the young lord had yet to eat anything. He had been too worried about the angel who slept in his bed. More than once, he found himself dosing off, slumping over him from his perch next to the bed.
Isis had been in to check on the boy and saw the tricolor haired teen slumped. “Little prince.” She shook her head, motioning for Mahaado to enter the room. “Mahaado, dear friend, could you place the young lord in his bed?” She asked, motioning to the other side of the small angelic creature he was slumped over.
She checked her charge, noticing his breathing had evened out, and he seemed to be in less pain than before. Further inspection told her that the wounds were no longer festering, and would heal nicely given time. She quickly re-bandaged him, looking over to the dark haired priest. “Thank you.” She whispered, her smile growing as she saw her sleeping lord. When he wasn’t wreaking havoc on the palace, he really was angelic.
A tanned hand wrapped around a pillow, holding it tightly, burring his face in the object as he slept. It was nice to see the future ruler of all Kemet acting like a innocent for once.
O-`-O-`-O