Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction ❯ The Tales of Hierakon's Empire ❯ Chapter 8

Author's Note: Raist here. I apologize for the long wait, but remember I am a full time college student and deep in mud with homework and such. Oreana poked me numerous times and since I have a sliver of free time, here comes the next chapter. I hope other updates will come sooner now since this story is about to really twist and take off—so hold onto your seats! Thanks for being patient and your reviews have been lovely. Oreana and I are so glad you all love this fic.

 

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Two more suns had come to pass upon the Hierakon Empire, leaving two more days until the prince of Maladraad made his leave back to his own empire across the other side of the desert. The redheaded slave hadn't returned home, though worked against his will of pain and suffering with his healing wounds thanks to Bennu keeping him secretly in a secluded room within the temple she lived within. He wasn't allowed to bathe in the Holy water, but the healer made sure he was well taken care of so his gaping injuries would heal without threat of infection.

 

Touya was worried sick about the outcome of his companion since he hadn't been home for two days, and though he saw him working on the wall opposite of him, he never had time to confront him between shifts due to the guards being overbearing to keep all the slaves in their order. Sighing softly through his nostril, he drummed his fingers against the table in their small kitchen, peering out the window in hopes he would see Jin return to him.

 

“It's so quiet without him here, and so lonely. I feel as if I've already died to suffer without his presence.” Scratching an irritating spot on the back of his head, the cerulean tressed slave lowered his head upon folded arms, humming lightly.

 

A knock heard upon the mud brick outside of the doorway covered by linens, Touya was brought back to his senses, wondering who could possibly be stopping by his side of the neighborhood. Standing from the stool he sat upon, his bare feet padded lightly across the floor as his pallid hand reached out to pull the linens back to peer outside, his narrow, icy oculars widening slightly.

 

“I see you peeking at me through those rags, you flea bitten mutt. Here's your week worth of pension,” the guard announced in a stern tone, tossing the leather pouch filled with gold pieces at Touya's feet. “I think you were paid too much, but it isn't my duty to decide.” Turning to leave, the guard wished not to linger any longer than he currently had, huffing through his nostrils in distaste.

 

Looking down at the leather pouch, Touya crouched to retrieve the item, backing into the safety of his abode to realize the pouch was heavier than usual. They often combined both he and Jin's salary together, and even then, it wasn't as weight worthy as it was currently. Curious, Touya unlaced the pouch to pour the contents out on the table top, lifting his thin brows at a folded piece of papyrus amidst all the gold pieces.

 

Unfolding the papyrus, Touya tried to decipher the hieroglyphs, knowing the writing belonged to Jin.

 

Touya,

 

I apologize for being gone, but I was horribly whipped two suns ago. Help was slim, home was too far away, and I was bleeding profusely. The youngest princess saw me outside of the palace to beg the healer for my sake of pity, thus, I am being secretly kept for rejuvenation. I remember hearing them conversing my will to return tonight, so I hope to be with you once again. Being around higher figures makes me nervous—I am ready to return to the small abode where I am not watched like a hawk.

 

The princess snuck the note in with the money. I believe she might fit in extra pay, too, so don't be too alarmed. I hope to see you soon. Please be safe, Touya.

 

Jin

 

Lowering the papyrus to look at the shiny bit of currency scattered about the table, Touya kept a neutral expression, still not convinced the royals could be kind. “I don't know how you pulled it off, Jin, but I merely hope the Pharaoh doesn't find out about the secret meetings between you and the young princess while you're in healing.” Scooping the currency up to put back in the pouch it came in, the cerulean haired slave murmured softly. “Worse yet, about this extra pay.”

 

 

 

Grumbling as he labored to sweep the marble flooring of the main lobby within the palace, Mu'dra jerked once involuntarily, still irritated about his punishment at the royal dinner several suns back. Saden was silent as he helped his companion, polishing where the dirt left the shiny surface of the floor to keep it perfect for the Pharaoh.

 

Dark chocolate oculars rimmed with mocha staring from the shadows, Djoser narrowed his gaze upon the two slaves, trying to get their attention.

 

“Psst! You two worthless rats, get over here!”

 

Both Mu'dra and Saden jumped as if they had been whipped, attuning their attention over to the pillar nearest the western wall. Looking all around, the two slaves briefly left their duties, looking for the source of the voice.

 

When Mu'dra got close enough, Djoser reached out to grab the man by the iron slave collar he wore, harshly pulling him forward to hold him up against the etched wall. An unsettled wind seemed to flow about the shadows, prompting the prince's ebony tresses to dance about his handsome face.

 

Nearly catatonic from the utter shock of being treated so brashly so quickly; Mu'dra gawked as he tried to suck in a breath, digging his fingers into the limestone behind him. Saden stared in fear, widening his brown orbs considerably.

 

“You are trying my patience waiting so long to deliver the final blow to the Pharaoh. Have you got the vile?” Djoser demanded in hushed whispers filled with an eerie tone, angered by the stall in his process of claiming what he rightfully should own.

 

Moving his lips to speak, no sound came forth aside from sputtering, his shaky hand reaching for the pocket he had the vile hidden within as proof Saden had given it to him when he was locked within the dungeon.

 

Shifting his heated gaze down to the appointed pocket, the Maladraad prince caught a glimmer of the glass vile filled with clear liquid, placing his gaze back upon the slave's face flushing from lack of oxygen.

 

“I want you to pour it in his wine tonight. I am tired of dancing around like a fool. It is time to take aggressive action,” the prince stressed, sneering. “Do I make myself clear?”

 

His eyes threatening to roll back in his skull, Mu'dra squirmed against the grip upon his neck, moving his bluing lips. “I—“

 

“You what? Answer me, you petty fool!” Djoser commanded as he threw the slave down upon the floor, pressing his sandaled foot up against his trachea, threatening to crush it.

 

“I…will…!” the slave gagged, begging for his will to live.

 

Removing his foot, the prince growled softly, curling his lip into a further, haunting sneer. “If you want your freedom during my rule, then you damn better!” he hissed, though he lied about the truth of freedom, using the two slaves as pawns for his own benefit. Turning his back on the two slaves, Djoser pushed his ruby cape out of his way to send it flicking out behind him, having other things on his mind pertaining to the elder princess.

 

 

 

 

Since the studies and the secrecy of hiding the damaged slave finally overtook her, Rehema was passed out upon her canopy bed's linens with her doll, which her elder sister had returned, close by. The warm, afternoon wind curled her red curtains as it made its way into her bedroom to slightly rouse her from her slumber. Blinking her eyes open, Rehema slowly sat up in bed with a big yawn, rubbing the sleep from her blurry sight. A knock coming from her double doors, she wearily beckoned to them. “Come in.”

 

The doors opening, Omorose came into the room belonging to her younger sister. Her dress swaying with her step, she made it to the bedside where she sat to caress the side of her sibling's face. “Did you have a nice sleep?”

 

“Yes,” Rehema said with a smile. Wrapping her arms about her doll tightly, she looked up at her sister with a slight shrug, knowing Omorose wouldn't be there unless to deliver news. “So what is the matter? Did dad send you?”

 

Omorose shook her head. “No, I came here to speak to you—about the slave you have convinced Bennu to stay here.”

 

Rehema had a feeling that whatever it was her sister was going to say wasn't going to be something she wanted to hear. She showed she was listening but didn't say a thing. Her fingers grabbed onto the rim of her doll's outfit to play with it a bit.

 

“I understand that you worry for his safety, but I don't think it is best to have him being holed up in the palace,” Omorose said with a concerned sigh. Her fingers ran through her younger sister's, stringy hair. “Don't you think it is alright to let him go back to the other pallid skinned one, who is damned by the gods? It would be best right now.”

 

Rehema sighed herself with a bit of disapproval written on her face. “But he is not healed yet. Can't he just stay for a little while longer?”

 

Omorose couldn't help but laugh softly to herself as she brought her hands down to her lap. “Sweetheart, you sound like you're just handling a poor, injured jackal. He is a human being. And worst of all, he is a slave. You saw the punishment I got for helping the damned one, just imagine what would happen if father caught you handling his friend?”

 

“I guess I will get rid of him after the dinner tonight,” Rehema mumbled with a slight smile, only to have it covered up with a frown. Sliding off of her bed's covers, her small feet tapped upon the marble flooring until she put her sandals on. “I got to get ready for the dinner tonight. I will see you there, sister.”

 

Omorose nodded as she remained in her sister's bedroom, even after she left. Getting to the marble flooring as well, she walked over towards the balcony to look out at the setting sun. She overlapped her arms over the balcony railing to watch the rest of the morning Ra bestowed upon Hierakon's soil that day.

 

Jin never felt as uncomfortable in his entire life as he remained behind the Horus Temple walls with Darwishi, the High Priest of the Pharaoh. His body still aching from the pain it had endured, he was beginning to think the pain would be tolerable if he could just escape the uncomfortable feeling he had when sitting under the eye of the falcon god. Turning his nose up at the incense the priest would burn, Jin grunted slightly as he tried to get to his feet.

 

“Where do you think you are going?” Darwishi inquired, his back turned to the injured slave as he was locked in a silent prayer for the falcon headed Lord.

 

The redhead rolled his eyes as he still attempted to stand, regardless of the pain he was still in. “I am going to head back home. I don't belong here.”

 

Darwishi was silent for awhile; obviously he was still focused on the prayer to the gods he was murmuring under his breath. “The temple upsets you so.”

 

He tilted his head to the side once he finally got to his feet on the cold, dirt ground. “How do you know that?” Jin asked with a scoff, as if to hide the fact that he was surprised by Darwishi's correct answer to his displeasure under Horus' roof.

 

“The gods tell me,” he said, finishing his prayer to turn to face the nonbeliever of the Egyptian deities. “They also tell me something else about you.” His eyes narrowed slightly as he brought his hand up to feel of the slave's aura. “Hmmm…it is amazing you have hid it better than your partner.”

 

Jin's baby blue eyes widened slightly as he turned away from the priest, eyeing him once more with a slight snarl. “Than why don't you say something to the Pharaoh about it to have us both executed?”

 

The priest lowered his hand with a frown. “Because, I promised the princess I would help take care of you first.” He walked over to the desk in his room he occupied in the temple to sit down and start writing upon a piece of parchment he had upon the surface. “And besides, I don't sense evil in your heart. There is no reason to.”

 

A knocking coming upon the door, Rehema opened the door shortly after to reveal herself. “Hi, Darwishi,” she said with a simple wave to the priest.

 

“Hello, young Princess,” Darwishi responded, offering a slight bow to her from where he sat. “I see you have yet to get ready for the dinner tonight. You best do so soon, or else the Pharaoh will lose his temper if you are late.”

 

Rehema fidgeted a bit before looking over at Jin, who offered a simple wave and smile to the princess of the kingdom. “Darwishi, can I talk to Jin?” When the priest questioned her with his expression, she elaborated. “I want to talk to him…before he goes home.”

 

“I see,” the priest said quietly, continuing to write what he had set within his mind. “Well, do so, but carefully outside. I have work to do.”

 

Jin looked down at Rehema, offering a shrug. “Shall we?” He wondered, pointing to the door. “The sooner I get out of here, the better.”

 

The young princess didn't disagree or question his distaste in being in the temple walls as she followed him outside of Darwishi's temple study room. Looking up at the tall slave, Rehema smiled to him but only briefly in attempts to hide her sadness in having to tell him that he would be leaving soon. “My sister told me that it would be better if you go home later today.”

 

“You sound sad,” Jin pointed out with a slight chuckle. “You should not be so with such a great family here.” Or lack there of, he thought to himself, not taking too kindly to the Pharaoh.

 

“I guess I was just hoping that you would stay around more,” Rehema admitted, winding her finger about a strand of her brunette hair. “I thought maybe you could bring your stuff here and work on that necklace you said you were doing for me.”

 

Jin couldn't help but throw his head back and laugh aloud with his hands upon his hips. “What am I, a pet all of a sudden?” He wasn't insulted—merely humored. Bringing his thumb up to the side of his nose, he rubbed it briefly with a smirk. “And you remembered that, eh? Well, I am still working on it, but I am sure I would feel much more at home at my own home.”

 

“I guess,” she slightly moaned, not wanting that to be so.

 

The redheaded squatted down with his hands upon his thighs. He looked up at the young princess with a tender smile to her. Hissing in pain as he did so, he chuckled with a shake of his head. “Great stars above! My back is still in pain, so this isn't easy.” Tilting her chin upward, he gazed into her eyes regardless of the pain, which was expressed within them. “I promise that I won't be too far away. I am just going back to my home, which you can easily come to whenever you wish to.”

 

“No I can't,” Rehema sighed, moving the ragged arms of her doll slightly. “I have been told I cannot be caught with you, or we will be punished…” Her voice trailed off at the mere thought of a slave being punished for her actions.

 

“I should have figured that,” Jin said somberly, turning his gaze from her for a second. “Know that, if anything, I will be willing to risk it if you are.” Struggling to get to his feet again, he growled from the horrible agony, which stroked his body. “Now, if you'll excuse me, Princess, I have to get out of this temple. I don't like it here…at all.”

 

Sensing the extreme uneasiness the redheaded, blue-eyed slave possessed when standing within the temple's embrace, the young princess lowered her head to peer at her feet sadly, sighing through her nostrils. Hearing the crush of sand connect with his bare, calloused soles, Rehema lifted her head as she held her doll to her chest with one arm, extending the other towards his scarred back.

 

“Wait! I'll…I'll risk it. I'll risk everything to see you sometimes,” the princess stammered, gazing at Jin's backside with pleading orbs of emerald.

 

Turning his head to peer over his broad shoulder, Jin smiled smugly to himself, knowing the young girl wouldn't be able to resist otherwise. “I'll see you later, then. Fair well, Princess.” Ambulating further out into the cool, night air, Jin made his way through the dusty streets in order to get back to his mud brick abode with the pale skinned companion he missed terribly.

 

Watching the slave leave, Rehema lowered her outstretched hand, adding it to the other arm grasping her doll securely to her bosom. Tears misting her oculars, the young princess turned to run out of the temple back to the palace.

 

 

 

It was only minutes before the royal dinner would be presented. The slaves helping prepare the meal were hard at work getting everything perfect for the royal family. The last incident with Mu'dra placed a thorn in all their sides, not wishing to be punished as he had for flubbing up the past two scenarios before his `time out' session. Saden stood outside of the archway leading into the cooking area to wait for Mu'dra to summon him, fingering the vile behind his back with interest. The glass was cool to his tainted touch, the clear liquid seductively enticing.

 

A calloused hand reaching out to ruin his thoughts, Saden blinked his mocha orbs before eyeing his insane companion with a sheepish grin of unkempt teeth.

 

“Ah, you're ready for the vile, eh?”

 

“Yes, you idiot. Now hand it over! That Maladraad prince will have our heads if this doesn't go as planned,” Mu'dra hissed angrily, snatching the vile presented to him quickly. Leaning back into the kitchen area, he sauntered over towards the wine decanter and jeweled goblets, pouring the drinks as normally as possible without showing suspicion.

 

Saden frowned with a massage to his scarred wrist once Mu'dra made off with the precious vile, leerily looking around since the current events made him nervous.

 

Omorose met with Rehema in the main corridor on her way to the royal dining chambers, smiling down upon her gently.

 

“You seem a bit down. Is there something you want to talk about before eating the meal prepared for us?” Omorose knew what her sister was upset about, acting otherwise to get her to speak to her so she would somewhat be at ease.

 

Reaching over to fit her hand into that of her elder sister's, Rehema looked up at her, squeezing the hand she held.

 

“The slave left. You don't have to worry about him lingering around the palace anymore,” she simply stated, her face conveying a bit of sadness. “I didn't want him to, and it pained me to see him go, but…I knew you were right.” Offering a faint smile, she kept the secret of further interacting with the slave to herself, knowing Omorose would never approve of her setting foot near the lowest parts of the Empire.

 

Tilting her head to send the stray pieces of her espresso tresses across her tanned cheeks; Omorose smiled warmly, proud of her sister's improvements. “It was very brave of you to encounter your sadness. I am very proud of you, Rehema.” Wrapping her arms around her young sister, the elder princess widened her sapphire eyes at the sound of a masculine voice, growling inwardly.

 

“Fair Princess Omorose, you look rather stunning tonight,” Djoser slyly commented, breaking up the sisterly moment. “Won't you join me in escort to sit at the royal table?”

 

Clutching her fists at her sides, Omorose tried to keep her head on straight, clearing her throat. “Rehema, go on ahead of us. It isn't much farther, and I'll be right there sit beside you.”

 

Expressing a grin to the Maladraad prince, naïve about his intentions, the young princess nodded to her sister before turning to continue her way down the corridor.

 

Facing the prince with a creased brow, the nares of the princess lightly flared in her demise. “You have the audacity to interrupt the time between my sister and me? Could your request not wait?”

 

Smirking at her spicy nature, Djoser grabbed her wrist firmly, though gently, pulling her closer to his body. Feeling the fear lace through her body, he lowered his lips to her earring clad ear, his feathered bangs tickling her cheek.

 

“You have a spark in your soul you keep hidden, yet you express it to me. Why won't you let it come through to permanently taint your soft heart? To be Queen you must have a stern resistance—you are claiming to be a weeping lap dog.” Nibbling at the outer shell of her ear, he listened to her frightened breathing, grinning upon the skin of her upper neck. “The change will be good for you, my love,” he purred, gracing her spine with a crawl of his fingertips.

 

Clenching her eyes closed shut; Omorose placed the flat of her palms against his brawny chest, shoving with all her might despite him having a grip upon her golden clad wrist. “Stop this! You are making me VERY uncomfortable, you wretched snake!”

 

Laughing softly, he placed his index finger under her fair chin, making her look into his godly face. “Funny you say that when your body yearns for me to touch it,” he hinted, watching her ivory cheeks flush with irritable color. “We've lingered long enough. Let us see what they have prepared for us, shall we?” Hooking their arms forcefully together, he gently pried her to fall into his pace of walking, feeling her comply since she had to wear her façade around the royal table regardless of how she truly felt deep on the inside.

 

 

Everyone seated at their positions around the elongated table, Pharaoh Kafele was pleased to see his family and extended members seated around him to enjoy the feasting meal soon to be laid out before them. The drinks were always brought out first, followed by the meal items, and once all was in order, the Pharaoh stood up from his high seat to stare out at everyone seated, smiling to them gratefully.

 

“I would like to propose a toast by Thoth's light to ensure that this meal graces each body with the nourishment it needs to survive. The gods and goddesses have been raising a hand high to our crops; the livestock flourishing within every inch of grain they consume left behind from the silt of the Nile.” Lifting his golden chalice embedded with jewels, etched with the god Horus, the precious metal gleamed in the torchlight. “To an Empire well lead and a family worth dying for, I say we drink best years in all the land!”

 

Everyone seated lifted their own chalices to make the toast with a loud raucous in agreement, each rim touching each set of lips. The fine wine rolled each throat, imported from the greatest vineyards in the desert.

 

His chalice gleamed as his sight was taken, the wine pooled upon the marble floor as the goblet clanked melodiously, rolling across the floor.