Whoo! Finally, after months, Bazu is here, and Bazu is back with part three of the Forbidden Love series!
As a kind of 'fyi' piece, this installment is only going to be short - probably two or three chapters, plus an epilogue. I hope you all enjoy it anyway!
For new readers' benefit: It is recommended that you read 'The Forbidden Love of a Pharaoh' and 'Forever Dreaming of What Might Be' since they're the two prequel parts to this fic. You can read it without, but it'll make more sense!
"Then it is agreed?"
Yami nodded, maintaining his dignified posture. "Yes," he stated simply. "My kingdom shall provide to you three weeks from now ten thousand by eight cubits of linen, in return for fifteen cartloads of grain."
"I thank you, oh mighty Pharaoh," the white-skinned merchant responded smoothly, bowing deeply. "I assure you, I shall not let you down."
Yami eyed the man before him sternly. "Be warned, stranger from afar. My kingdom will not take kindly to yours if you should fail in this deal. We would both be best served if it should go through."
"I understand, oh Pharaoh," the man responded, bowing again. He had been warned repeatedly by his elders that Kemet's king, their Pharaoh, was revered in his country as a god-like being, and that he should be treated as such. However, he could not resist trying to slip a small amount of status for himself into the bargain, trying to ensure he was remembered so that he could be called upon for such lucrative deals in the future. "Should you need to contact me in the mean time, my name is Crawford."
"If I'd wanted your name, Crwfrd," the Pharaoh responded icily, not even trying to pronounce the man's name in an accent other than his own. "I'd have demanded it. Be gone from my sight, before I should choose to re-think our agreement."
The man in front of Yami visibly paled, even with his skin being far whiter than anyone else's present to start with, and bowed again hurriedly, before backing out of the room, keeping his eyes respectfully toward the floor all the way.
"Your highness…" one of Yami's advisors ventured once the door closed, signifying with certainty that Crawford had left the room. "If I may be so bold as to say so, the deal you just struck seems to be weighted somewhat in that man's favour…"
"On the surface, yes," the Pharaoh answered bluntly. "But Osiris has not granted us as plentiful an inundation as we had expected this year. If we are to avoid famine, we need to ensure we have enough grain to see us through. Deals such as these are the only way to secure that."
The advisors glanced at each other doubtfully, and the Pharaoh felt his temper flaring. "I am aware we have enough grain for this year!" he snapped. "But what if the inundation is low next season? And the season after?" Yami stood and stormed to the door, the guard stationed there opening it hurriedly for him. "I will not let my kingdom fall into famine!" Yami paused before exiting, glaring at each advisor in turn. "And I would suggest you all bear Kemet's best interests in mind too."
Yami stalked down the many corridors of his palace, growling under his breath and pointedly ignoring any who dared try to catch his attention. He knew he'd over-reacted, and he didn't doubt the advisors were of that opinion too. Nowadays, though, it just seemed he couldn't help it.
It had only been two weeks since Yugi had gone. The festival celebrating Yami's return to the throne had passed, and now he was back to running his kingdom – a kingdom that he'd soon found to be in much worse condition than he'd left it when he'd stolen away into the night. Set's influence – or, more aptly, Seth's influence – on the country had been anything but positive, and it was only now that Yami had returned that the people could begin to pick up the pieces.
There was barely a moment that passed when Yami didn't think about Yugi, and he knew that losing the young boy had upset him far more than he was allowing himself to believe or show. He was instead letting himself get caught up in his kingdom, allowing himself to get worked up about his duties, in order to avoid having to tackle his loss head-on. Right now, he wasn't sure he could handle it, and with so much work to be done he didn't feel inclined to try to either.
Set, on the other hand, had worked tirelessly since that day to reach the netjeru, (1) hoping to contact Yugi. If the slave truly were Horus' son, he would be there with him, and that would mean he could be reached. Set knew exactly what would be going through Yami's mind – that if Yugi had come back once, he might come back again – and he wanted to find out for him, or to at least bring him a final parting message to maybe ease his wounded heart a little. He felt that, if nothing else, he owed it to him, even if he hadn't been in control of his own actions.
Having taken Masika as his personal aide, trusting her judgement over the other trainees' following her decision to help the Pharaoh, he now worked non-stop, hardly even finding time to eat and not noticing his own slipping condition, in order to achieve his goal.
With a heavy, drawn-out sigh, Yami pushed the door to his personal quarters open, allowing Jou to close it behind him. The Pharaoh's recently promoted personal guard had seen him in this sort of mood often enough over the last week to know when he preferred to not be pampered, and that had definitely been one of those moments. Instead, he had simply stood to attention, sparing his master his gaze, and closed the door behind him as if it were the most normal thing in the world for a Pharaoh to look so haggard.
Taking his crown off his head now that he was alone, Yami tossed it with a little less care than he should have among the other jewellery he wasn't presently wearing, before making his way across to his bed and sitting down on the edge of it. Groaning softly, Yami propped his forehead against his palms, elbows on his knees, and let his fingers sink into his hair. There, he sat in silence for a few moments, before a single whispered word crossed his lips.
"Yugi…"
That was the first time he'd spoken his love's name since the duel with Seth, and he hadn't realised it would hurt as much as it did. It felt like a knife was stabbing at his chest as he uttered those two syllables, not just in his heart but all over as one. Heartache, he'd known before, and this wasn't it.
To have lost Yugi once nearly killed him. Against any reasoning any mortal could have offered, though, Yugi had returned to him. They had been offered a second chance. To have lost that chance – to have been destined to lose that chance – hurt so much more than seeing Yugi dying before him had. It hurt more than all the pains he could ever recall had – it tore at him from the inside, eating him alive and burning him torturously slowly. The netjeru had cheated him; had given him a false sense of hope. To know that the very beings he served with his life would treat him that way hurt. To know that Yugi's 'second death' had already been arranged, and that they'd instructed Yugi to keep it from him hurt. To know that the kingdom he was now running was Yugi's gift to him hurt. He didn't want a reminder, and he didn't want to only have memories.
All he wanted was Yugi. And once he'd let that name slip out, he'd opened the floodgates to his emotions.
Yami physically shook as he felt anguish beginning to rack through his body, whispering softly so that Jou couldn't hear him. "It can't be…" he insisted. "It can't be… he can't have gone…"
Yugi had, though, and Yami knew it. No matter how strongly he tried to deny it, he knew it. The spot on the bed he sat on should have been where Yugi slept last night. The sun that shone in through the window, he should have watched rise with Yugi that morning. His lips shouldn't have been quivering in sorrow and pain; his lips should have been able to meet Yugi's right there and then, to take the pain away like only he had been able to.
Yami hated himself for thinking in the past tense like that, but he knew it was true. Yugi wasn't there any more, and one day he would have to accept it. He tried not to harbour hopes of him returning, however strong they were, because he knew he wouldn't be able to stand the heartache if Yugi couldn't. At the same time, though, he couldn't bring himself to completely push such thoughts away either. Right now, he wasn't emotionally strong enough to. Instead, he simply allowed himself to remain in a limbo, neither hurting nor dealing with it, until he had time to himself. With a kingdom in dire need of his services, that wouldn't be any time soon.
With a harsh, almost regretful sigh, Yami let the pain dilute again, allowing himself to become almost as cold and emotionless as before he'd first met Yugi. That was the way a Pharaoh had to be to run the kingdom, he reasoned, so that was what he would do.
Striding across to the large silver-mirror in his room, he adjusted his clothing to assume a more regal air, before taking his crown in his hands and setting it on his head once more. The final traces of sadness slipped from his eyes with this addition, both becoming as cold and hard as the rock torn from the earth to construct his statues.
And that was how it had to be.
With a menacing air about him, Yami strode down the corridors of his palace once again. Those that had tried to catch his attention the first time simply shrank away into the shadows now, telling themselves they would deal with it when the Pharaoh 'wasn't so preoccupied.' When he was in these moods, unlike earlier when he had simply been angry, the piercing glare of his eyes seemed to read your very soul, as though tearing you open and reading you like the scrolls the historians wrote. While none of them had ever experienced him doing this, none of them wanted to be the first to feel his wrath either. Therefore, none of them admitted what they saw in his eyes, so that he wouldn't see it in theirs.
Striding through into his throne room, Yami marched down the long central aisle with the charisma of an entire procession, a line of guards either side of him saluting as he passed them. Choosing to again ignore anyone who tried to catch his eye, Yami ascended the stairs to his throne once again, setting himself regally in his seat – and that was his seat, not the one Seth had brought in – before casting an icy gaze across the entire room, which had fallen silent as soon as the doors had parted. "Begin," he stated simply, not caring to acknowledge his advisors.
Outside, there was a procession of people waiting to see the Pharaoh, bearing gifts from their countries, or seeking aid, or simply bringing him news from the far reaches of the empire. The gifts, he accepted with an air of gratitude, but without smiling, his features instead remaining stern throughout. The news, he listened to carefully, giving orders to be delivered if appropriate, before waving the messenger away. The requests he judged by merit, as he always had. Often, for all his coldness, he returned requests generously, knowing that the people were finding life harder right now. Others, though, were treated less generously, particularly in the case of one rich merchant who came seeking money 'as he did not have enough to get by.' There was later a concession among the guards that the man would have preferred imprisonment to the tongue-lashing that the almighty Pharaoh dealt him that day.
The final entourage, though, was enough to stir Yami from his resolute mood for a few moments. Slowly making his way up the aisle, leaning heavily on a young girl who had evidently helped him all the way from the palace temple, was Yami's High Priest, Set Nebkheprure. The pains of his labours had evidently taken their toll on him, for he was looking as thin and gaunt as some of the most hard-off members of Kemet's populace.
"Set? Masika?" the Pharaoh asked, rising from his seat and descending the steps hurriedly to meet them. "What happened?"
"He has toiled for days, oh mighty Pharaoh," Masika answered, bowing as deeply as she could without dropping the older man. "He is weak, and has barely eaten, but he has a message to bring you."
"…go on," the Pharaoh encouraged after a moment's silence. "What has he found?"
"Edfu," the High Priest managed with an evident effort. "The netjeru have commanded that you go to the Temple of Horus at Edfu with all due haste. They say you'll understand why."
"Edfu…" Yami mused softly. "The Temple of Hor-…"
Yami stopped as the significance of this sank in. Horus. Horus. The temple of Yugi's father…
Quick as a flash, Yami snapped back to his more authoritative mood, barking orders out to anyone and everyone appropriate. "Load my ark!" he commanded. "Prepare a crew immediately, and fetch Honda and Jou. Instruct them to assemble an entourage to accompany them with me on the journey." He turned to his advisors. "I leave the kingdom in your hands until further notice, and I swear that if you dare make a single decision that angers me, you will feel no mercy."
All around him, people were bowing and scurrying about, readying to complete their tasks. Yami, though, was unaffected by the sudden commotion, instead turning his attention back to Masika and Set. "You, Masika, are welcome to come with me," Yami stated with a smile. "But be sure Set is tended to by an apothecary first."
"Pharaoh…" the priest protested weakly. "Please… grant me that I may journey with you. Have me treated on the ark if you must."
Yami visibly paused as he considered Set's request, weighing up the man's evident need for help with the knowledge that he had worked for two weeks to reach this information, and evidently wanted to see it out. "Very well," he eventually conceded. "But if I am not happy with your condition when we get there, you shall remain on the ark."
With that, the Pharaoh left, beckoning two servants to follow, and made his way to his personal quarters, ready to pack for the journey to Edfu.
(1) Netjeru: the Kemetic deities
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