Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction ❯ The Tales of Hierakon's Empire ❯ Chapter 3

The guards at the entrance to the throne room gave Bennu bowed heads of respect as she passed through the etched archway leading into the main room the Pharaoh and his Queen was located within. The beaded tassels hanging from her exposed waist and tied back hair clattered in an unknown rhythm to her walking the closer she approached the two figures that held rule over the entire empire, her translucent skirt pooling upon the marble floor as she kneeled before Kafele submissively.

 

“Great Lord and Lady, I have a message to give to you on the light skinned slave's behalf. Are you willing to listen despite the chaos he caused with your eldest daughter?” the healer inquired as she kept her sea green gaze at his feet in respect, hoping he would listen for the sake of keeping the cursed slave alive up to his real time to perish instead of ending it earlier than expected.

 

Este gave a disgruntled huff towards the mention of the cerulean haired slave, showing she didn't care what came of him, leaving the whole decision upon her husband since the matter was entirely within his own hands. “I will not make a sound towards his wretched soul. I may be listening, but I am not making what command I have in mind for him.”

 

Sighing heavily, though slowly through his nostrils, the Pharaoh frowned as he placed his powerful emerald orbs upon the royal healer, lifting a hand to hurry her along. “What of him?”

 

Silent a moment, Bennu finally spoke up, settling upon her knees. “I took care of his wounds as you asked me to on Princess Omorose's behalf. He was beaten so badly he will have to remain out of work for two suns due to his whip wounds cutting so deeply. I will have to make two more trips to his abode, one each day, to assure the wounds scab over with the medication I have to place upon them to prevent infection. The redheaded slave that lives with him was asked to feed him a high protein diet to ensure rapid healing.” Smoothing her hands out upon the tops of her thighs, she weaved her slender fingers gently through some of the beadwork within her skirt. “My request is as simple as leaving him out of work for two suns to let him rest so he can heal properly. I hope this isn't asking too much, my Pharaoh. I know your concern is never placed upon the slaves, but unless you want him to keel over and die from infestation as well as heat stroke from being wounded, I suggest rest is best for him at this point.”

 

Reaching up to massage his forehead gently, Kafele thought on the matter, reminded of the fact his daughter touched the cursed Seth spawn and cried over his health, his compassion directed at both of his daughter's reaction and not the slave himself. He felt he was placed between a boulder and a hard place, his wife obviously appalled over the whole situation since she didn't want the girls to see the slaves at all.

 

“If you hadn't of taken them out to witness the cruel sight, you wouldn't have to deal with this type of decision,” Este bluntly hissed, standing from her high seat of royal dignity. “Now if you'll excuse me, I have to see how the meal is going.” Sandaled feet tapping down the stone etched steps; the Egyptian queen sauntered out of the west corridor from the throne room so she could make her way to the kitchen area where the food was prepared for the royal family and a few noblemen close to the family.

 

Slamming his fist down upon the arm of his throne, the Pharaoh growled softly from the back of his throat. “Just heal the wretched beast so he can work his hands to the bone! His life is about to end as it is once that wall is complete, so let him have his two suns' rest before going overtime for his foolishness!”

 

Bowing her head respectively, Bennu gave a light nod, so used to his loud voice and actions the slamming of his fist didn't faze her. “As you wish, my Pharaoh.”

 

“You are dismissed. Prepare for the evening meal. When Omorose and Djoser return it should be ready to consume. For now, I need to think,” Kafele hinted in irritation, practically shooing her away.

 

Saying not another word, Bennu arose to her feet once more from whence she kneeled, turning gently upon her heels to make her way out of the throne room to her own private chambers, hypnotic sway of her hips sending the hanging tasseled beads swinging and swaying with a clacking beat, prompting the many guards littering the area to look her way in envy since they couldn't take her for who she was. I doubt it will be a happy dining time. Omorose wasn't very stable when I left the scene of her and the prince at each other's throats…

 

“Then we add a dash of salt. Go ahead, take a bit between your thumb and forefinger and sprinkle it in,” the male cook coaxed as he held Rehema up by her waist to reach the pot he was cooking a concoction within, smiling with pleasure since the younger princess always came in to help him when she had nothing else to do with the absence of her elder sister.

 

Sticking her fingers into the bag of salt that was highly valued thanks to its rarity, the young princess giggled as she pinched the right amount, placing her fingers over into the silver pot to sprinkle in the salt. “Like this?”

 

“Very good! You make a splendid help! Now be a good girl and fetch me a cup of flour, would you?” Placing Rehema back upon the ground, he handed her a clay cup just right for the perfect measurement, laughing softly as she skipped across the large room to dig into the burlap bag containing the flour.

 

Making herself present within the very warm cooking room due to the heat of the hearths and large clay ovens, Este smiled upon seeing her youngest daughter so happy in helping with the meal, glad her mind was occupied from the previous let down of not getting to venture with her sister. “You're so good to her, Osteen. I appreciate you keeping her happy since she was disappointed about not getting to go with Omorose.”

 

“My Queen!” Osteen nearly squeaked, quickly lowering his body to the ground in a bow of respect. “I didn't see you enter! Please forgive me!”

 

Piercing sapphire oculars looking down upon the startled cook, Este shook her elaborately adorned head, folding her hands in front of her body. “It is okay, Osteen. You know you are allowed to look upon me without shame even if you are a slave.”

 

Slowly lifting his head to look up at the gracious queen with his two toned amberish-green eyes, Osteen offered a soft smile, rising to his knees. “Thank you, my Queen. You are always very kind to me and my crew.”

 

Coming back with the cup of flour she was asked to fetch, Rehema offered it to Osteen with a big grin, suddenly looking over at her mother. “Oh, hi mommy! I'm helping Osteen make dinner. It's really a lot of fun!” She beamed, sporting a few white powered blotches upon her face thanks to the flour. “When are Omorose and Djoser coming back?”

 

“I am glad you're having fun, my dear daughter,” Este chuckled as she leaned over, attempting to wipe the flour off her cheeks where she obviously rubbed her soiled hands upon them. “They will be back in about an hour when dinner is ready. It won't be too much longer, child.”

 

Taking the flour gently from Rehema, Osteen arose to his feet to start making the bread he had in mind, humming a hymn he knew to keep his mind occupied while he worked.

 

Moving her head from side to side trying to avoid her mother cleaning her face off, Rehema made a face, huffing. “I'll get the rest off when I wash up for dinner, don't worry about it, mommy. I hope Omorose is having fun with him.”

 

“I'm pretty sure she is, dear heart. Why don't you go wash up and then get Darwishi to teach you a new ritual in honor of Horus? I think an hour is long enough for a good lesson to be fit into the excitement of the day,” Este suggested as she stood to her normal height of five foot six, raising her brows with a smile to further coax her onward. “I think you've had enough cooking for one day.”

 

Gasping in awe, the young princess squealed as she pushed past her mother, loving to see the high priest conjure his rituals to the gods and goddesses they worshipped, floored to know she'd be taught another lesson, mystified in the arts of spiritual calling. “See you at dinner, mommy!”

 

Smiling warmly, the Queen laughed softly, nodding. “You bet I will.” Leaving the room scenting of various cooked food items in which they would eat for the oncoming honored feast of the Maladraad prince, Este traced her way back through the winding corridors, wondering if she should return to her husband's side or stay to herself until the hour was up for her daughter to return.

 

 

 

 

The wind blew tranquilly that oncoming evening as Jin finished up the dinner he was working on. Chopping up the rest of the onions he had haggled for, the redhead poured the rest of the vegetable soup in the bowls he had set out before playing the cooking slave to his injured friend, Touya. Jin grabbed up everything he could in his hands as he headed over to the dinning table to place it all out as it should be. The plates clanked slightly as he situated them just right with the dinner plate there in the center as he looked over into the next room where he could see the side of Touya's bed and where the pale skinned slave was resting.

 

Touya was still asleep and had managed to go back into a deep slumber as Jin was cooking. The redhead was relieved as he watched the unmoving, abused man through his dirty, crimson strands of hair he needed to wash. Blowing them out of his sight for a moment, he walked over to the bedroom that connected to the small kitchen and eating room to fetch his recuperating companion. “Touya,” Jin called out as he made it to his bedside to shake him gently on the shoulder. “Touya, it's time to get up and eat.”

 

His body being shaken awake gently, the bi-colored hair young man could only groan as he was sleeping there upon his chest with his arms wrapped under his pillow. He didn't wish to move at that moment and wanted to get more sleep.

 

Jin wasn't about to have Touya miss dinner as he pressed his hands under the firm bedding that supported his friend's body to help lift up the sleeping Egyptian. “Come on now,” Jin grunted as he tried hefting up Touya's limp body. “What's the point of staying home and sleeping to rejuvenate if you're going to be this way and not eat hu?”

 

Managing to have his eyes focus to the dimming light that was just barely shining through Jin's window and his, he hissed in pain as the redhead was content on moving him rather harshly. “Owe, owe—Jin, stop a moment; that hurts!” Touya begged through his clutched teeth.

 

“Oh, stop being a baby,” the playful young man remarked as he knew Touya could handle anything as he continued moving him to at least stand on his feet. “There we go. Now was that so hard?”

 

Regardless of being through far worse, Touya couldn't help but release a shaky breath of displeasure in attempts to let out his pain within those deep exhaling breaths. “Dammit, Jin that hurt like the falcon god himself was torturing me!”

 

Jin couldn't help but spat playfully at his friend's remarks as he helped him steadily over to the little wooden dinning table they shared. “Don't tell me you actually believe in that nonsense those others spout about the gods and goddesses. That's a bunch of made up hogwash, if you ask me.”

 

The two slaves didn't believe in Horus, Hathor, Anubis, or any other of the gods and goddesses that were feared or worshipped. They both believed it was a bunch of fairytales to keep the people from fearing their own timely death. Jin always said that whenever something went wrong in other people's lives, the people in Hierakon could always have someone to blame aside from themselves when they are in fact in control of their own lives and that that was mostly why these `beings' were created. The two never followed the scriptures in each temple nor did they ever go to pray. Just being near a temple was uncomfortable to them but they hid their beliefs and thoughts, not wanting chaos to rein further upon them and Jin didn't want the guards or Pharaoh to have a better reason of calling Touya Seth's Spawn.

 

“Of course I don't,” Touya grunted in pain as he leaned on Jin to make it to the table so it wouldn't continue to hurt as he moved towards the table to eat. “It just hurts like a gods' wrath is what I am saying.”

 

Jin eventually got the injured Touya to sit down in his seat as he kept a pillow and a few blankets from his own bed to comfort his friend's injured back. “There we go,” he said with a smile as he situated the bowl of soup closer to Touya before giving him some of the chopped onions and bread. “Now eat so you can regain your strength.”

 

His narrow, blue eyes gazing down at the bread before him, Touya went for that first as he grabbed onto a few pieces to break apart so he could eat. “I don't know why I am even bothering with eating. If they want to end my life like I am a maim stallion, they should have just left me there to let me die after they whipped me.” Grumbling at the thought, he took his frustrations out in the bread he was eating by ripping it apart with his teeth.

 

The innocent baby blue eyes of the redhead looked over across the table at Touya as he sipped at the spoon to taste his own creation before reaching for a piece of onion to eat. “Don't be that way, Touya. You know I won't let them harm you. They'll have to take me down first,” the playful of the two remarked seriously for once in his life.

 

Having to think on his coming demise, his stomach couldn't help but shut off for a moment as he was overwhelmed with his own emotions. Touya placed down his piece of bread he was eating to look off to the side to replay how his last moments on Hierakon's soil would be like. He wanted to run from beyond the walls, but how far could he get when guards monitored the land day in and day out?

 

Jin noticed Touya had stopped eating as he began dipping part of his bread into the soup he had made. Pressing his index finger several times upon the top of the table, he caught Touya's attention as he ordered softly, “Eat.”

 

Looking back down at the food before him, the bi-color haired slave shook his head steadily though he hissed with pain as he attempted to move from his seat. “I am not hungry anymore.”

 

“Don't give me that,” Jin chuckled within the back of his throat as he got up to stop his friend from moving too much. “You're going to sit there and eat some more, so do so before I push your face into it.”

 

Sighing heavily through his nostrils, Touya tried to stay calm, though from the raging feelings inside he wanted to erupt, his narrow, icy orbs peering up at his playful companion irritably. “Jin, listen to me. I'm not hungry, I'm not going to eat right now, and I want you to leave me alone until the sun rises again. You do not have a death sentence looming over your head so you cannot possibly understand the feelings and emotions churning inside of me at this moment.”

 

Child-like cobalt oculars searching his icy partner's expression, Jin released his equivalent of a partial laughing scoff in attempts to hide his growing worry. “Touya, you have to eat, you know what the healer said. I'm not letting you leave this table, as if you could concerning your wounds.” Placing his hands upon his slender hips, he remained towered over Touya slightly, showing he could be just as stubborn. “Pick up that spoon and start slurping because if you don't, I'll feed it to you myself. I care about you, Touya, and I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Please, at least half of it.” Giving him a sorrowful look like that of a pleading animal, he tried to further sway him, not giving up all hope just yet.

 

“Jin…” Touya whispered as he averted his gaze from him, gradually losing patience.

 

“Please?” the redhead added once more, keeping his stance like a small child begging his parent to do something to make him happy.

 

Not able to hide his tears anymore thanks to the overwhelming feelings inside, Touya buried his face into Jin's abs, hissing in pain when he wrapped his arms about the redhead's slender waist. “I want out of here; out of this empire. I don't want to die! Why should I perish because I'm different from everyone else? It isn't fair…”

 

It had been a very long time since Jin had ever seen his partner cry, lidding his eyes with a slow sigh through his nostrils, placing his arms gently around him. “I want freedom just as much as you do, but I'm afraid we'd never make it past the guards if we attempted such a daring run. Something is bound to happen where the time will be right for us to attempt and get away with it. I just know there will be,” he whispered, looking down upon him, stroking his messy cerulean tresses gently.

 

“Time is something I don't have, Jin. My days are numbered. Take me to bed and let me sleep. I can't attempt to eat even if I wanted to with how I feel right now. Maybe later… Save me some, I guess.” Pulling away from his redheaded companion, he wiped the tears from his eyes, miserable.

 

Reluctantly complying to his wishes, Jin carefully helped Touya up from his chair at the table, wincing at the painful hisses that indicated discomfort, working as a crutch to help his pale friend back over to his bed. “That princess saved you once. She might do so again,” Jin felt need to remind him, fluffing his pillow before helping him to lie back down upon his stomach.

 

Snorting derisively, Touya couldn't believe in such a statement, showing his distaste in the royal family even if she did help him out. “She's the reason I'm still living to suffer. She'll change when she's older, just wait and see. They are like leopard cubs and start out innocent only to grow up and be predators. And you know what, Jin?” Looking over his shoulder at him once he got settled once more, Touya more than hissed, “We're their prey! Think about that.”

 

“Obviously, you don't believe in miracles,” Jin commented with a light frown, seeing the anal side to his partner he often wished to avoid.

 

“Why should I? Look at me—look at my future. It hasn't changed since I arrived here,” Touya retorted angrily.

 

“But that doesn't mean—“

 

“Jin, go finish your meal and let me sleep. I just want to be alone right now to think, thank you.”

 

Reaching up to scratch the back of his head, the redheaded Egyptian sighed to himself in defeat, shrugging. “All right, if that's how you want to be. I'll check on you later.” Turning to leave his bedside with one last look back at him, he ambled back over to the table to eat his now cold soup, doing a bit of thinking himself, wishing his partner didn't have to feel the way he did.

 

 

 

Djoser had finished walking Omorose to the Temple of Horus by carrying her bridal style, her emotions so wavered it was hard to tell if she'd talk to him at all concerning the attack she had prior to their time alone. She wouldn't look at him and kept her broken gaze towards the walls passing by her sight, the interior of the temple dimly lit by candles, smelling of incense. A few priests were posted about as well as priestesses, their jobs very special to the great statue of the falcon headed god in which they held their main worship. To them, the statue was alive; going so far as washing it to be sure no unsightly build up tainted the great god.

 

Sighing through his nostrils, the prince of Maladraad gently put Omorose down upon one of the steps leading up to the great statue of Horus, kneeling in front of her, grabbing her chin gently to lift her head up so he could look into her tear streaked face.

 

“Omorose, I know you're highly upset, but I am confused. Why are you so concerned over a slave and what happened to make you act like that back there? You act like you've been traumatized and it worries me.” Dark chocolate orbs searching her void expression, he tried to be as gentle as possible, praying she'd start talking to give him the answers he needed. “Omorose, please… Talk to me.” An usual, light breeze sifting through the chambers they were within caused the longer parted bangs of the prince to dance along his cheeks, sending a sense of comfort to his worried soul.

 

Sniffing to clear her sinuses, the eldest daughter of Pharaoh Kafele kept her sapphire gaze to the side, her voice quivering as she spoke. “Father took Rehema and me out to see the slaves this morning. We had never seen them at work before and father felt it was time we saw what exactly went on when the slaves were at work since we would have to order them around in the future.” Reaching up to remove his hand from her chin, she wrapped her arms about herself, continuing with a slight rocking of her body. “It was fine until they started beating the pale skinned man just because he tripped and spilled water everywhere. Father wouldn't stop them, he was just letting the guard beat the pulp out of him with the bullwhip he had. His blood was dark crimson in color, marring the whip, cascading over the back of his body, tainting his pallid flesh. I ordered them to stop, but they wouldn't listen…” Voice cracking, she tried to hold her tears back, swallowing hard, her face contorting into extreme sadness. “I hopped off the chariot and pleaded for his life to make them stop. I touched him; I had his blood on me. They said he was cursed by Seth because his skin remains so pale, never tanning. Father is going to kill him when the wall is finished. I don't want him to die.”

 

Frowning softly, Djoser moved up closer to Omorose, pulling her body closer to his own whether she wanted it or not. He kept her within his lap between his legs, cupping the back of her head to guide her face towards his chest, kissing the top of her head. “I'm sorry that you had to go through that to see the harsh life the slaves live under our ruling. Like I told you before, even though you don't want to hear or believe it, those slaves are our property. They do what we tell them to so our empire progresses to grow in size with what we need constructed. When they don't obey or rebel, we have to punish them. Your soft heart needs to harden so you no longer have feelings for the slaves. They are domesticated animals doing what we tell them to, we shelter them, and we feed them. They have no need to complain.”

 

Omorose could only shake her head almost in disbelief at his words. She wished not to be changed and the only thing her heart hardened towards was his existence as she pushed herself away from the prince. Her hands folded before her, she grazed merely up at the walls of the temple that held many crafted images of Horus and his Lady Hathor. “Djoser, is it alright if I pray to Lord Horus before we head back to the palace?” Her right hand made its way up to her chest as she closed her eyes a moment so she wouldn't have to watch the man she felt such resentment towards. “I wish to pray to him about events ahead, if that is okay.”

 

Djoser's eyes looked out beyond the young teen's shoulder to spy the area that held the holy statue where most people prayed. He knew she was feeling a lot of emotion towards a meaningless slave and he felt maybe the alone time might do her some good though he showed hesitation in letting her go alone. “I guess it wouldn't hurt to do so. Just promise me you'll be okay back there. I am worried about you with all things considered lately…”

 

The young princess of Hierakon could only raise her hand as if to cease him from speaking further. Her back soon turned to the young prince she headed onward through the chambers that rested about the castle like temple so she could embrace herself in prayer. Her sandaled feet shuffled through the endless sand before her as the torches and candles kept her path lit before her. Some of the priests that saw her traveling towards her destination couldn't help but bow in respect though the young princess paid them no heed. She was consumed in thought and wanted but to merely get away from the Maladraad Prince.

 

The golden gilded wooden statue of the falcon god Horus soon was in sight once she entered the Sanctuary, resting upon its naos. She could only feel tears at this point welling up within her eyes as she looked at the noble bird god with her hands placed there before her. With nobody around her, she knelt down within the sand to bow before it, treating it as the falcon god himself. “Oh, Horus, my falcon Lord, please hear my prayers. I am lost as of now as if my soul is drifting in a raging sandstorm where I can see not even the hand I place before me.” Her hands clutched tightly about the sand beneath her as she thought about the day that would forever be embedded within her memories. “I wish not to be Queen and I wish for Djoser not to be my husband. I am not worthy of being the ruler of this empire my father has worked so hard to maintain. Please, my Lord, give me strength for the coming days.”

 

Hefting herself up onto her legs, she sat there in a kneeling position just wishing to cry out what was left of the imagery of the slave being whipped to pieces. A part of her wanted to find where he lived but another dared not ask fearing what he would have to say about her and her family. She knew her father was strict, but he was her father and she loved him dearly and wished none to speak ill of him. A sigh passing through her lips, she turned on her heels to head out of the Horus Temple knowing that a dinner was to soon await her back at the palace.

 

 

 

 

Servants were rushing every which way when word of the young Princess Omorose and Prince Djoser were heading for the palace in expecting of that meal. All was ready but not all placed out upon the table for the royals to feast upon. The head cook scolded everyone that worked under him, unable to believe he had to work with such incompetents.

 

“Hurry up and move all of this food to the dinning table!” Osteen bellowed angrily as he wished not to be held responsible for the delay. “The Pharaoh expects this dinner to be there NOW!”

 

Two of the lower class slaves that were working as cooks in the palace couldn't help but grumble as they kept the plates held out before them that held a variety of breads and fruits. They quickly hurried down the marble halls of the large palace of the Hierakons though they were not eager to serve the overbearing Pharaoh.

 

“I swear, if that royal bastard makes a fool out of me once more in front of his family, I will strangle him where he stands!” The young male in his mid twenties had his black hair tied back in a ponytail as he wore burlap pants that hung loosely about his dark legs. He had merely a piece of rope to tie about his waste to keep his pants up and sandals about his feet that looked as though they had seen better days.

 

“Relax, Mu'dra,” the other man insisted, looking about in the same age range but with dark brown hair that was cut clean to his neck with his bangs flowing slightly before his cheeks. He wore the same looking attire to show his rank to those in the castle walls as he held his silver tray firmly within his hands. “I am sure the Pharaoh has nothing to complain about this day with the prince of Maladraad around.”

 

“Well,” Mu'dra scoffed, “know this: if he so much as rests another hand upon me while I am doing what I am asked to without a slipup, I will cut his throat with the very knife he eats with, Sadren!”

 

Sadren stopped suddenly in his tracks, hearing such a thing as he pressed his finger to his lips with a hissing sound before looking about the empty hall they were within. “Do not speak of such things aloud here! These walls hear everything said within them and they will find their way to the Pharaoh! Do you wish of your head to be on the chopping block come the rise of Ra's sun?”

 

Mu'dra merely contorted his face in fury as he looked off to the side to avoid the piercing reddish brown eyes of Sadren. He was sick of being beaten when he felt he did his job perfectly. Rarely did he slip up any and if he did at all, it was the Pharaoh's fault for placing so much pressure and so many threats upon his shoulders. He wanted to be a free man and wished, like so many of the other slaves, to be free beyond Hierakon's boundaries that were constantly being built and expanded. “Do not tell me,” Mu'dra began, “that you do not wish to see what is beyond this meaningless life style the Pharaoh has placed upon us. We are men! We are not supposed to be treated as nothing but cattle!”

 

“What good, Mu'dra, will it do to complain here and dwell more upon it?” Sadren asked with a sigh of sorrow, it appeared. “The more you fill your head with such things, the more that anger builds. And if you are not careful, well, only the gods can say where your fate may lie if you unleash it upon the Pharaoh.” With that bit of wisdom left inside of him, the young man continued onward knowing he hadn't another second to spare when it came to the upcoming feast for the arrival of the Maladraad Prince and his stay.

 

Mu'dra merely remained positioned as he thought upon his own wishes and dreams and his want to escape the family he was forced to serve since he was seventeen. The anger continued to feed off of his dreams he was kept from until Sadren beckoned for him to hurry just down the hall. I will get out of here, Mu'dra thought as he continued quickly towards the dinning hall. Even if I have to kill that royal fool to do so!