New story! Finally, something decent. Since Yu-Gi-Ou is one of my all-time favorite manga/anime series, I'm really critical of what I write for it. So I have a dozen half-written fanfics for it floating around, but I haven't deemed them good enough to post. But this one, I think this one will do. If you haven't noticed, one of my favorite things to do is fill in the background; I like writing about people's past, how they got to where they are now. Basically, character development. Some characters, like this one, give me little to go on, but a lot of freedom when writing. Others, like Kaiba, give me the basics, and I figure out the rest. Anyways, enough chatter. Here is the first chapter of a new fanfic, In Bygone Days.

---

I'm not entirely sure why I'm bothering to relate this, this recollection of my time here. You trapped me, I suppose, in our conversation, our discussion of that famous quote of looking into an enemy's past and finding enough miseries to banish all hate.

I had remarked, "Everyone has a story."

You had paused and looked at me thoughtfully. "What's your story?"

This stopped me. It seemed a strange concept, that I had a story, even though I just told you that everyone did. I guess I just don't hold myself to the same level as other people. I'm separate, somehow.

And the very idea of this, telling a story which is really my life, it makes you wonder. Perhaps our lives are merely entertainment for others. Don't waste your breath contradicting; I know that's not what you meant. Still, I wonder.

I've never done anything like this, you know, revealing the private details of my existence. It seems so personally intimate, a bond between the storyteller and audience. I apologize if I stumble or lose myself.

No, I'm not stalling. My thoughts are disorganized now that I've forced out memories that before were tightly bound. They're overwhelming, the sheer bulk of memories that linger still.

Well, let's find a place to begin.

--

Men-nefer. Captial of Kemet, not Egypt, it was never 'Egypt' in my day. Kemet, the Black Land, fertile and lush next to the Red Land, the near endless desert surrounding us, holding untold dangers even as she guarded our borders. Men-nefer in shining white limestone, a sparkling city by the River, the Nile you call it, life-giver to us all, without which we wouldn't survive.

I was born there, and grew up there. From the beginning I had no one. My mother died when I was too young to remember her; an illness took her, make her bones ache and her skin bruise and she wasted away. My father died in the still on-going great war, died for his country, for our Pharaoh, as we all would, when I was three. I don't remember him. I was never adopted, but I was cared for by the High Priest Akunadin. He was old even then, fifty years, with grey-white hair, deeply devout and loyal to his lord. He was my mentor; he took me as his apprentice, deciding early on that I was to be a priest. I can't say that I loved him, cared for and about him, certainly, but love…?

I walked, bare-footed, bare-chested, through the halls of painted limestone, on floors of whitest marble, in the palace of the Pharaoh, a living god on earth, where Akunadin lived as well, and so me. I wore the finest linen on my child's frame, an amulet to protect me from harm, gold bands about my arms and a heavy collar resting against my breast, gold, turquoise, carnelian, and lapis lazuli, a deep River-blue flecked with gold that matched my eyes. Past guttering torches affixed to the wall I stepped softly to Akunadin's chambers, slipping silently by a dozing guard and into his rooms.

He was reading, lips moving as he quietly murmured the words; so intent on his text that he didn't notice my entrance. I hovered near the doors, uncertain of what to do now that I had arrived. He had vanished unexpectedly on a trip; some say he went to help stop the war. Now that he was back, in my child's mind I wanted to make sure that he was okay, that the war had left him untouched. From my place I observed him; the same linen shift that reached his ankles, the hood drawn up around his mid-length grey hair and beard, eyes shaded as he read, the same gnarled, wrinkled hands that possessed a surprising strength for someone of his age. All familiar things. But I still wasn't satisfied. I emerged from the shadowy doorstep and went to him, greeting him aloud.

His head snapped up, surprise written on his features. I stopped, alarmed by his reaction.

"Seth!"

Then he grimaced, hands flying to his ears; he stumbled to his feet, nearly tripping over the stool, and backed away, pained, until he reached the far wall. Even then, he dug his heels in as if he willed himself to pass through.

I was paralyzed with confusion. "Sir?" I took a halting step forward.

"No!" he shouted. I froze. "Don't-! Stay there. Stay…" He sunk to his knees, gripping his head as if it would burst.

My body quivered in indecision. Go to him? Get help? But I couldn't get help, I couldn't move, he told me to stay and I was, if anything, an obedient child.

"Help!" I shouted, held to the spot by the sheer force of his words. Akunadin flinched at my cry.

The drowsy guard scrambled into the room a moment later, quickly followed by three others. Then all was confusion; Akunadin was surrounded with concern, I was swept up in powerful arms and almost carried off. I squirmed suddenly, was dropped, and I ran to Akunadin, wriggling in between the crowding people.

"Seth!"

I gaped at him, amazed and frightened. His one good eye gazed back, pained, apologetic. Gold glittered in place of the other.

I was scooped up again and hauled back to my room.

The Items had been made, forged in the fires of hate and fear and desperation, those cursed blessings, saving Kemet from the wars only to bring her to the brink of destruction a few years later. Akunadin received his Item, all the high priests did, from the Pharaoh himself, the Eye that stole his sight even as it granted him a better sight into the heart. It took him time to master its powers; it pained him at first, the influx of voices and sounds. But I didn't know this, not as a child. I only knew that my lessons became harder, as Akunadin seemed to know what I was thinking.

I learned to think nothing; I kept my thoughts as blank as my face. Had my future not been destined for priesthood, the military would have fit my stoic nature.

I can only guess what my life would have been like, had the Prince not been born.

I was four. The palace, the city, the whole country was ablaze with the news; the prince was born. Yet the celebrations were subdued. After all, His Majesty had been blessed with children before, and all had been lost. And wasn't this child born early, small and frail, taking his mother's life in the process? Surely, the Prince wasn't long for this world.

Those were the whispers, from servants, from guards, no doubt most of the city. I didn't quite understand; I was still too young. But when the time came I went to go see him with Akunadin anyways.

Well, they certainly were right about one thing: the Prince was tiny, impish even. While His Majesty and Akunadin spoke by the balcony, I gazed down at the Prince impassively. He lay in his cradle, a hand tangled in wild short tricolored, the other clutching and pulling at the white linen. He had a round smooth little face; I imagined he'd be very handsome when he grew up. He ignored me completely, unlike other children I had seen, and made not a sound. His attention seemed to be fixed elsewhere, at nothing I could see. I hmmed and turned to leave, and the Prince's eyes snapped over and locked with mine.

They were a starling red, blood red I instinctively knew. They were bright and sharp and they pierced my very soul, saw right through me. They rooted me to the spot and stole my breath.

A chill brushed my mind, unintelligible whisperings heard on the borders of consciousness, and I shuddered; suddenly I could see the child wreathed in Shadows. They clothed him in purple and darkness, clung to him, worshipped him. A small tendril drifted out toward my hand that rested on the edge of the cradle, and I knew I should pull back, knew that Shadows were dangerous, but his eyes still held me and I couldn't move.

The Shadows gently brushed against my bare skin.

An icy cold crashed over me and stripped the warmth from my body even as my soul flared bright and defiant. Pain raced through my veins and clouded my mind as the Shadows gleefully enjoyed each emotion, each memory contained within my heart. I was dying, the Shadows were killing me! Yet even as I realized this horror I was enthralled. What power!

Strength and honor, pride and courage and pain and suffering. Murmured words that sounded far away. This one, we'll keep.

And suddenly I was free. The child looked away, disinterested, Shadows recoiling and retreating back to smother the boy in undisguised adoration.

I collapsed to the ground, shaking, sobbed, gasping for breath, arms wrapped tight around deadly cool skin that wouldn't warm, eyes that saw unseeing, unfocused.

"Ah, my Prince, my Prince," I cried, rocking back and forth. "My Prince, my lord, my master." I knew, I knew. This was my lord, my Prince. I would never stray from his side, never let anything harm him. I would give my life for him, I knew! He who would command legions! He who would lead Kemet to shining glory! My Prince, my beautiful, dark prince of Shadows.

I never cried, ever, even when whipped; His Majesty and Akunadin were so stunned that at first they didn't move. Then Akunadin was at my side, trying to pull me away, trying to see if I was hurt, trying to get an answer from me; good gods, Seth, what's wrong? Are you alright? You're as cold as death! He tried to pull me away, to get me to face him, but I didn't want to leave the prince's side. I screamed and kicked and fought until a sharp blow to the head made my vision swim and my moments slow. I was picked up and carried away, stunned and quiet and trembling, and I watched the prince as we left.

He watched back from his new place in His Majesty's arms, completely unfazed by the events, and just before we disappeared through the doors, he smiled.

I smiled back.

I spent the next week reeling in and out of consciousness, weak and near death, with a high fever and a delirium that frightened even Akunadin. Call it an epiphany, call it a bout of insanity, but I was forever changed. The Prince, Pharaoh-to-be, would be, to me, truly a living god.

---

Well, what do you think? A tad shorter than my usual chapter length, but not too bad. Review and let me hear your opinions, readers!