![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the_goldenpathTitle: The Pharaoh and the murder at the Palace
Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Characters/Pairings: Atemu x Mahaado, Aishizu x Mahaado (unrequited), High Priest Set x Kisara, friendship!Atemu & Mana, Karim x Atemu, Mahaado x Karim x Atemu
Genre: action, adventure, romance
Summary: (AE, AU) After the death of the Great Pharaoh Akunamukanon, his son Atemu ascends to the throne. As soon as Priest Mahaado discovers that the late Pharaoh didn’t die of natural causes, a certain thief is spotted around the Palace… now the priest has to fear for his life and that of his friends, as dark forces are closing around them quickly...
Author’s note: Yu-Gi-Oh! and all its characters don’t belong to me. No infringement on any copyrights is intended. Feedback is greatly appreciated. I don’t pretend to give any accurate historical reflection of life in Ancient Egypt. This is for entertainment purposes only.
Key: ----------------- scene change
Karim came to walk next to Mahaado, the buff Priest easily keeping up with his stride. With Set being the master of ceremonies, all the preparations fell under the High Priest’s watchful eye, and Karim had apparently taken that as an invitation to come along with the small group.
“What will happen now to our Pharaoh?” Karim whispered to him. Mahaado shook his head, lowering his voice to a whisper as well.
“He needs to rest, the last few days have been very hard on him,” he said. “I will ask Mana to keep an eye on him, and get him something to eat to maintain his strength. He is going to need it to get through the burial, the coronation, and all his other obligations.”
Karim heaved a sigh. “We have to assist our Pharaoh any way we can.”
“We will,” Mahaado answered, determined. The Pharaoh wouldn’t expect anything less of his Priests. “For now, he must rest, and we need to attend to the late Pharaoh’s needs.”
“Who will announce the news in the city?”
“Set will send out his guards,” Mahaado said. “It is going to be very busy, my friend. We have to keep the Court going, and take some of the pressure on our Pharaoh away.”
“Very well.” Karim halted, as they had arrived at Atemu’s private quarters. The guards immediately took their positions next to the golden door panels. Atemu turned around to face the others, his posture strained and uncomfortable.
“I will be in my quarters if anyone needs me,” he said, his eyes briefly resting on Mahaado and Karim before opening the door and entering his room. Mana was about to follow him, but at a short cough of her teacher, she stopped.
“Master?”
“Apprentice,” Mahaado said, proud that she, even in this stressful moment, remembered the correct way to address him. “I want you to stay with our Pharaoh and make sure he eats and rests some. I will visit him later this evening. However,” he focused his stern look at the guards, “no one but the Six Priests, my Apprentice and the vizier will pass these doors. If our Pharaoh is bothered by anyone else, I will deal with them as I see fit.”
The guards bowed and reassumed their positions in front of the door, sharp spears ready to stop any intruder. Mahaado watched Mana enter the room, before he turned around and beckoned his fellow Priest to follow him. There was much work to be done.
Mana’s heart weighed heavy and she fought against the tears about to spill. She had to be strong, for both her Pharaohs- she had come to see Akunamukanon as her own father as she grew up in the Palace. He had been so kind yet determined, and she had trusted him with her life. The Prince…no, Pharaoh now, was about to assume all his tasks and obligations…it was a daunting thought. Mana saw Atemu sitting on the sofa, his face blank as he was staring into nothingness. He had just watched his father die and keeping a tight mask was his way to fight off the tears and the despair now that his only relative had gone.
“Prince…eh, Pharaoh…”
“It is all right,” he said. Atemu didn’t mind how she called him either way, be it Prince or Pharaoh. Mana sat on the sofa next to him and searched out his hand again. It was her way of consoling him, of telling him that she was there for him. She wasn’t good with words, or so she thought; she had the tendency to babble and go on and on about nothing really important at all. At this moment though, she was sure Atemu needed wise words of consolation and encouragement, words that Aishizu would speak in her soothing, deep tone of voice, that made anyone instantly feel better. Mana rested with her head on his shoulder, sighing softly. No words were said, and her fingers entwined themselves with Atemu’s.
A modest knock on the door awoke her and she gasped. As her muscles protested from the cramped position they had been in, Mana realized that she had fallen asleep! Atemu was sitting like a statue, silent and emotionless, but she noticed the dark, black streaks on his cheeks, as the kohl around his eyes had smeared. Her best friend had been crying for the loss of his father, and she had fallen asleep on his shoulder! Mana felt horrified and remorseful. How could she have fallen asleep while her best friend needed her the most? Another knock on the door, this time more urgent.
“Would you…?” Atemu asked, voice soft.
“Of course.” Mana quickly got up from the sofa and went to answer the door. A servant bowed and handed her a tray. She thanked him and brought the tray over to Atemu, carefully balancing it on her hands.
“Here, have something to eat.”
“I am not hungry.” Atemu ignored the tray with the bowls and plates on it, not interested in the figs, the cheese or the bread. Mana took one of the silver goblets and poured some wine from the silver carafe. Filling it half up, she used the other carafe with crystal clear water to dilute the wine. She handed the goblet to him.
“Drink some, for me,” she pleaded. Atemu took the goblet from her, distraught. Mana took his other hand and pressed a fig with a slice of cheese onto his palm
“Please, if only for me,” she urged him. Finally, he nibbled some of the fig, but not to his heart’s content.
“After you’re finished, you’re going to rest,” she said. “And I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, Prince, so…”
“Atemu,” he interrupted her. “My name is Atemu, Mana.”
“I’m not allowed to speak the Prince’s name…”
“I am a Pharaoh now, and my rule is that you address me with my name, when we are in private quarters,” Atemu said. “We have been friends for so long, Mana. It would be wrong if we allow our positions to come between us.”
“You’re right.” Mana smiled a little goofily, yet she felt excited. Receiving the Pharaoh’s permission to call him by his name was something very special! Carefully, she tried to call out his name.
“Atemu,” she said and giggled. Such childish behavior wouldn’t do, and she straightened herself, becoming more serious. “Atemu,” she repeated, “I want you to take some rest after you’ve finished that slice of cheese.”
“There is a lot of work to be done.” Atemu sipped the wine from the silver goblet. “I have to answer to my duties and plights.”
“You don’t have to,” she said. “I mean, not now. Set has the supervision on all the preparations and duties at the moment.” She spoke rather familiarly of the Priests in Atemu’s presence, especially when she couldn’t be overheard. Referring to the six Priests with all their respective titles got annoying and bothersome pretty fast to the girl. Mana noticed that Atemu had finished the fig and quickly pressed another one in his hand. “You can leave it all to him.”
Atemu chewed on the fig, motions slow and pensive. “I know I can trust Set, but I am Pharaoh now, and it is my duty to meet my people and take up my responsibilities as their ruler.”
“I’m at your side,” Mana said, almost cheerfully. “And my Master will be, and together we’ll stand strong!”
He smiled at her words, knowing that she spoke the undoubted truth. “I could not ask for better advisors.”
“Now eat some more,” she urged him again, but let it slide as soon as he shook his head. Apparently, two figs were all that he could handle at the moment, and it was of no use to continue imposing. Mana took a slice of bread herself, her stomach rumbling. She ate in silence, keeping an eye on Atemu.
“Go lie down,” she said softly. “I’ll keep watch over you.”
“I can not,” he protested, but his voice lacked vehemence. “How can I rest when there is so much work to do?”
“Come,” Mana said as she stood up and she reached for his hand again. Her gentle smile and insistence made Atemu cave in, and he stood up as well. Before she took him to the bedroom, she handed him a piece of cloth so he could clean his face and hands. She hadn’t mentioned the dark streaks on his cheeks, still feeling guilty about not being there when he had needed her the most. She made a stern vow to herself to keep watch over him indeed, and not forsake her vow this time.
At the threshold of the bedroom, Mana let go of his hand. These were Atemu’s private quarters, and she blushed at the thought of following him into his bedroom! He turned towards her.
“Thank you,” he said. “I will do my best to rest properly.”
“Prince,” Mana said, her cheeks flushed. “I will be here to watch over you, as I promised.”
“I know.” He went into his bedroom and Mana scolded herself mentally. She didn’t feel tired due to her short nap earlier, and she usually was quite energetic… maybe she could continue practicing some spells, while the Pr… Pharaoh was asleep? She realized that Atemu hadn’t corrected her when she had called him Prince. She chalked it up to him being tired. Mana wished to be closer to him, like sitting on his bed, to watch over him while he slept. She longed to brush the wayward strands out of his face and to touch his cheek, his warm skin. Maybe it was more intimate and closer than friends normally would interact, but Mana’s innocence, her warm personality and her desperate need to take care of her best friend as well as she could, made her overlook any boundaries.
----------------------
The beautiful dancers moved in perfect unison to the music, their colorful clothes floating through the air as if they could follow the tones of the instruments: the arghul, the tambourine, the sistrum and the small, round drums. Mana took it all in excitedly, having never seen a feast like this before. The coronation of the new Pharaoh wasn’t just like any feast, of course. The banquet was overloaded with fresh fruit, vegetables, poultry, game and fish; the servants worked hard to keep everyone satisfied. Mana was eyeballing the large melon, carved in intricate slices, hoping to steal some for dessert. Atemu sat at the head of the table, flanked by his Priests. It was a small consolation that at least Mahaado was in his vicinity; with so many people around - Mana didn’t know who all these delegates and representatives were, but they were important enough to attend the coronation - she was unable to protect Atemu. She had her wand with her, but she hoped it wasn’t necessary to pull it out to perform a spell.
Aside from the guests, guards were also present at the banquet; not to eat, but to protect the Pharaoh. Even though Mahaado hadn’t told his theory about the former Pharaoh being poisoned, he had insisted that the new, young Pharaoh would be well-guarded. He didn’t need much to convince Set about extra guards. The men, despite being everywhere, sort of blended into the background. Should any trouble arise, they would be able to intervene quickly. Mana felt safe, but not at ease. The death of the late Pharaoh, the changes all around, Atemu’s new position… she didn’t like how their world had been turned upside down. Mana was smart enough to realize that Atemu would ascend the throne sooner or later, but she had hoped that that day would be far, far away.
At the head of the table, Karim leaned a little into Atemu. “Great Pharaoh,” he said gravely, “you should really eat more than two bites. There is still a whole evening you need to get through.”
“I know, Karim, thank you,” Atemu said and tried to eat another spoonful. Shimon, on his other side, put a slice of bread next to his plate.
“You have to be strong, Pharaoh,” the vizier said. “The entire nation is looking up at you now for hope and guidance. Have faith in yourself, and have faith in your people. You are young and still vulnerable, but you inherited your wisdom and your intelligence from your father. I just know you are going to lead Khemet to great heights.”
Atemu gave a weak smile. “Thank you, Shimon,” he said, “but I cannot do this all alone.”
“The Court is always here to assist you,” Karim offered generously. He spoke for all of the Priests, and Atemu was convinced of their loyalty. He didn’t want to become too dependant on his Priests or his vizier. A lot of his obligations and duties were his and his alone to bear, and he wasn’t about to disappoint anyone. Determined, he finished the rest of his plate much to Karim’s satisfaction, and he straightened his posture, preparing himself mentally for the rest of the evening.
The speeches were many and boring, but Atemu listened attentively to each and every one of them and made sure to personally thank the speakers for the wishing wells, blessings and other traditional tokens of respect. The officials and delegates offered him many gifts and thanks to Set’s strict organization, no one was left out (or allowed to speech for too long). Still, the evening hadn’t come to its end. Everyone went silent when Akunadin came into the room, the eldest Priest carrying a cushion embroidered with gold threads and large tassels at each corner. In the middle was the Sennen Puzzle, majestically draped on the fabric; the ultimate Item of power, only to be worn by the Pharaoh, symbol of his power.
Atemu was silent as he listened to the traditional lecture, read by Set from ancient scrolls, about responsibilities, duties and plights. His eyes were glued to the golden object. Not a few days ago, it had hung around his father’s neck, dangling on his chest, and he hadn’t known him any better than wearing this particular… pendant. Set rolled up the scrolls, having finished the text, and Akunadin stepped up to Atemu’s chair, sliding the cord over his head. The Puzzle came to rest against his chest, its weight heavy, almost uncomfortable, and Atemu tugged at the cord as if he could adjust it to his liking. The upside-down pyramid with the Eye on the front represented his plight and heavy duty as a Pharaoh, yet he felt oddly.. consoled by the Item. Steeling himself, Atemu rose up from his chair, noticing all the eyes focused on him, as he was about to deliver his first speech as Pharaoh.
He was only thirteen, an adult at his age, who had lost his father a few days before. He wasn’t afraid to speak to the crowd – he was sure they would listen to every word, simply because he was the Pharaoh. Right now, with the first word coming over his lips, he wasn’t Atemu anymore, he was the Pharaoh, the living personification of the Gods, their Son who would rule in their name. He opened his mouth and parting his lips. He was a representative of the Gods, and the words seem to come on their own. Atemu had carefully memorized what he was going to say, but these weren’t the words he had written down earlier in preparation. This was his own promise, his own pledge, his very own oath to help his people, to take care of his nation, to do his very best to keep and maintain peace, to be fair and right and serve the Gods. He felt drained when he finished, but basked in the overwhelming applause and the loud chant of “Pharaoh! Pharaoh!”. The approving nods of his Priests and Shimon meant more to him and he showed them a confident smile. He would stand strong, no matter what.
---------------------------
Two years later
Atemu was bored. The great Pharaoh of upper and lower Khemet was bored to tears. It wasn’t because of the Syrian delegate talking and talking, it wasn’t because of the excessive heat of the last days that warmed the entire Palace through and through, it wasn’t because of the massive workload waiting for him in general, it was the combination of everything. Atemu wanted to take a nap, preferably in a bed with cool, fresh sheets, and with some servants waving fresh air to him with large palm leaves.
“…and so, exalted ruler, I will be awaiting your decision in this.”
Atemu mentally thanked his father for his strict upbringing – and for teaching him the trick to keep an interested yet stern look on his face even though he wandered way off with his thoughts. It was nothing compared to Set’s extremely stern, statuesque look with his fierce blue eyes and thin, disapproving lips. The High Priest slipped every now and then, showing a scowl or a menacing glare if or when he disagreed.
“I thank you,” Atemu said. “Your plea has been heard, and I will take your arguments into consideration. You will be received again within three days to hear my answer.”
The Syrian delegate made the proper gestures to bid Atemu goodbye and escorted by a few guards, left the grand Throne Room. As he’d been the last of the speakers, Atemu made a gesture with his hand.
“We will take a short recess,” he said. The Priests relaxed, slumping even, now that they didn’t need to stand up as straight as a ruler.
Set immediately turned towards Atemu. He never slumped. “Why are we still listening to any of those Syrians?” He snorted. “You know they are all but dying to steal land from us, or to invade our borders as soon as we turn our head into the other direction.”
“Then we have to stay focused,” Atemu said, curtly. “This delegate came to me with sound objections. There must be a way we can maintain our peace treaties and trade covenants.”
“They are nothing but little children.” Set snorted again. “They keep trying to see how far they can go, to test your boundaries, Great Pharaoh. They only want things done their own way.”
“We will not blame them for trying,” Atemu said.
“We will blame them for wasting our time,” Set counter-attacked.
Mahaado tilted his head a little, having lost his interest in the conversation. His eyes drifted through the large Throne room, waiting for a servant to bring him a refreshment. Aishizu was supervising the servants and giving out some orders, while Karim stood in the corner with Shaadah, talking about nonsensical things. Akunadin was simply staring at nothing, as usual. What was the man thinking? Mahaado wished that he could read minds, every now and then. Shimon was standing next to a tall pillar, also lost in thought. Mahaado didn’t need to read his mind; the vizier was more than probably thinking of the next task at hand. He kept a very strict schedule and he had a sharp eye for everything that needed to be done and taken care of at a Royal Palace. Despite his age, Shimon was quite fit and more than adequate than many of his peers; he’d been in Akunamukanon’s service for decades, and it was a logical step that he would continue his tasks in the late Pharaoh’s son’s service.
Mahaado wondered sometimes how old Shimon was, but he didn’t dare to ask such an impolite question. He focused his thoughts on something else. Priesthood could be quite boring, sometimes. Especially when the entire day was filled with tedious meetings like these: endless discussions and conversations about topics that weren’t really productive. Mahaado wobbled a little from one foot to another, if only to give his stiff muscles an opportunity to move and relax. He’d been standing straight for hours on end. Every now and then, Atemu would hold a public audience, in which even the simplest commoner could ask him a question. The Priests were shocked at first, the mere thought that a peasant could be so close to a son of the Gods was just devastating, but Atemu held his nation, and the common people, in high regard. “I am not much of a ruler if I do not listen to my people,” Atemu had said, and not one of the Priests had protested, not even Shimon.
He almost wished Mana was around to liven up the place or at least bring a bit of laughter. His Apprentice had been studying tediously, for which he commended her. She had quite the heka to… he was interrupted in his thoughts when Aishizu all but cried his name – not in panic, but a sharp call for his attention. He immediately knew what was going on and quickly moved forward so he was in front of Atemu. He upheld his robe, catching a dart in the folds of the fabric.
“Guards!” Set bellowed, and slight panic broke out; people ran back and forth, dropping whatever they had been carrying, and the servants ran away, making sure not to be in the guards’ path.
“There he is!” On the balcony, a man clad in a simple, shoddy shenti, was already dropping to his knees as the guards encircled him, spears at his throat. A blow pipe and another dart were next to his left knee; one of the guards kicked it away, but the man didn’t make a move to retrieve his weapon.
“Bring him here!” Set made a dramatic movement with his arm. Mahaado picked up the dart very carefully, with his hand wrapped in his robe. Set noticed his fellow Priest’s gesture and asked: “What is it?”
“I need to study this,” Mahaado answered. “It would have killed our Pharaoh if I had not been able to catch it…” He couldn’t see if the extremely sharp dart had been coated with poison. He shivered at the thought of Atemu being hit with it. Aishizu had the gift of predicting the future, with the help of her Sennen Item, the Tauk - she had foreseen the perpetrator, and how he was attempting to kill the Pharaoh…
“Lousy thieves,” Set mumbled. Mahaado gave the dart to a servant who caught it in a linen cloth, and ordered him to bring it to his study room. Then, he turned around to see how Atemu was doing. Slightly irritated, he noticed Karim standing next to him, a little bit too close to his taste.
Schooling his face in a perfect neutral expression, Mahaado was about to say something when a slight ruckus caught his attention. The assassin tried to break free, struggling in the grip of the guards. Set looked like he was about to kill the man, his fingers tight around his Item, the Sennen Rod. Only the Priests were aware of the dagger concealed in the Item.
“How did you sneak past the guards?” Set wanted to know, and Mahaado could hear the anger in his voice, not only directed at the prisoner, but also at himself. The High Priest was in charge of the palace guards and he took his task very, very seriously.
The man didn’t answer, his defiance completely gone. His eyes were wide, and focused on the spears, pointed at his throat. He sweated all over his body. Set made a disdainful noise.
“Fine. If you are not going to answer to me, then you are going to answer to all of us,” he brusquely said.
“Set!” Atemu spoke for the first time since the accident, and all the Priests snapped their heads at him. Mahaado felt relief that Atemu wasn’t shocked or upset, but on the other hand, he hated seeing Atemu so perfectly composed like this, as if the assassination attempt didn’t bother him at all. “He is afraid. You will gain nothing by threatening him.”
“If the Great Pharaoh knows an adequate way to make him answer, I will listen,” Set retorted dryly.
Shimon was appalled. “Set! Don’t be so disrespectful.”
“It is all right,” Atemu said, and raised his hand, calming everyone down. “Look at him. He wears nothing but a shenti, torn and filthy. He is too afraid to talk. It is obvious that he was promised gold to do this, and in his despair he put his own life at stake.”
Set didn’t flinch, but Mahaado knew from the narrowed eyes and the tight frown that the High Priest wasn’t going to forget this little correction anytime soon. He looked back at the prisoner, the man still sweating, his eyes almost bulging out of their sockets. At Atemu’s hand gesture, the guards pulled back the spears a little, leaving the man some room to breathe. The prisoner immediately threw himself to the ground, his scrawny body shaking and shivering. Atemu stood up from his throne, with Karim immediately stepping next to his side. Mahaado made a mental note to talk to his fellow Priest, suddenly realizing that he wanted to be next to Atemu. The trembling prisoner kept his nose to the floor and mumbled prayers. Atemu halted in front of him.
“Look up,” he said.
The man kept his head low, almost kissing the floor. One of the guards used the other end of his spear to lift the man’s chin up.
“Obey your Pharaoh!”
Forced, the man looked up, grimacing toothlessly, his eyes firmly closed.
“I will not allow any harm to come over you,” Atemu said, soothingly.
Set snorted loudly in the background, obviously disagreeing with Atemu’s approach. Akunadin stood next close to him, hands crossed in front of his chest, fingers clutching at the folds of his robe. Aishizu and Shaada watched with tensed expressions on their faces.
“No harm will come over you,” Atemu repeated. He gestured at the guards that they had to retreat completely. They exchanged confused glances and looked at the High Priest for approval, muttering under their breaths. Atemu frowned, and the guards stepped back, but kept a tight grip on their spears
“You must have been very desperate to do this,” Atemu continued. “You were promised gold to take this risk, right?”
Finally, the prisoner nodded. Sweat rolled over his forehead, and he blinked a few times to keep it out of his eyes. He licked his lips, keeping his eyes closed again.
“Who promised you the gold?”
The man shook his head firmly. Shimon took a few steps forward, flanking Atemu on the right, where Karim was still on the left.
“Please answer your Pharaoh,” he said, taking the same approach as Atemu. The man’s fear had nothing to do with the guards anymore. There was something else that struck fear into the prisoner.
“I…” the man licked his lips again. “I can’t…”
His speech was rough, with an accent that Shimon recognized as from the far south. This man had traveled a long way to come to the Palace, hiding among the people who were waiting in line for the public audience. Somehow, he had managed to find a way to the balcony, without being noticed, and he had set up his deadly attempt to kill the Pharaoh…
“Please tell me,” Atemu said. “I will…”
“I can’t tell you!” the man shouted. “I can’t!”
“Then describe it to us,” Shimon said, using a fatherly tone of voice. “Give us some information about who promised you the gold. Remember that the Pharaoh is honorable and merciful to you, you who tried to take his life. You would do well to answer to that honor and mercy.”
The man kept his eyes closed, and shook his head again, more and more furiously. “I can’t…he’ll kill me! I want to see my wife and children again..! Please, just let me go…”
“You tried to kill the Pharaoh.” Shimon dropped the fatherly act. “You will give us information. A description, or a name…we just cannot let you go. For that, your crime was too severe.”
“A thousand gold pieces!” The man spoke hastily. “Thousand…thousand!” He kept repeating the number as in a trance. Atemu looked quizzically at Shimon.
“We’ll give you the thousand gold pieces if you tell us who ordered you to kill our Pharaoh,” he said.
“Ridiculous! You are going to reward him?” Set exclaimed, his voice carrying easily through the entire Throne Room. He was clearly ticked off, tapping on the lower half of the Sennen Rod, the part wherein the dagger was concealed. Mahaado really didn’t wish to be a prisoner in Set’s clutches, but he had to agree with his fellow Priest: the Pharaoh was far too lenient.
“Great Pharaoh, we better judge this man with our Items,” he suggested. Every Priest had an Item, one of the powerful seven Sennen Items; they could determine if there was any evil in this man, and draw out any wicked kaa and imprison it. Atemu looked over his shoulder, holding up his hand as if signing to wait.
“I can’t…I can’t tell…” the prisoner kept repeating, body trembling violently. “A thousand gold pieces…”
“Great Pharaoh, we should hold him incarcerated until there’s a better time for him to talk,” Shimon said. “He needs to calm down. We…”
“He’ll kill me! Kill me!” the man interrupted the vizier, his eyes bulging, his voice cracking under the loudness of his screams and shouts. “The King of-“
Karim grabbed Atemu and unceremoniously pushed him away from the prisoner as the man spat out blood and keeled over.
“Enough with the charade!” Set stepped forward, his sharp eyes immediately noticing the arrow protruding from the man’s back. “Bring the Pharaoh to his quarters and guard him! Comb out the Palace and bring everyone suspicious to me! Have all the commoners guarded and brought to one room for interrogation!”
“Set!” Atemu protested, but Karim had already wrapped an arm around him and lead him away, not paying any attention to his protests. Shimon, who had been surprised by the turn of events, looked in horror at the blood spatters on his robes, then to the dead prisoner.
“Find the one responsible for this!” Set snarled, pointing with his Sennen Rod to the man on the floor. “Have this taken care of, now!”
Mahaado decided to stay in the Throne Room and help to contain the chaos. He had to trust his fellow Priest to take care of the Pharaoh, though he still had to suppress a fit of jealousy quite forcefully.
----------------------
Previous chapters: 1 |
Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Characters/Pairings: Atemu x Mahaado, Aishizu x Mahaado (unrequited), High Priest Set x Kisara, friendship!Atemu & Mana, Karim x Atemu, Mahaado x Karim x Atemu
Genre: action, adventure, romance
Summary: (AE, AU) After the death of the Great Pharaoh Akunamukanon, his son Atemu ascends to the throne. As soon as Priest Mahaado discovers that the late Pharaoh didn’t die of natural causes, a certain thief is spotted around the Palace… now the priest has to fear for his life and that of his friends, as dark forces are closing around them quickly...
Author’s note: Yu-Gi-Oh! and all its characters don’t belong to me. No infringement on any copyrights is intended. Feedback is greatly appreciated. I don’t pretend to give any accurate historical reflection of life in Ancient Egypt. This is for entertainment purposes only.
Key: ----------------- scene change
Karim came to walk next to Mahaado, the buff Priest easily keeping up with his stride. With Set being the master of ceremonies, all the preparations fell under the High Priest’s watchful eye, and Karim had apparently taken that as an invitation to come along with the small group.
“What will happen now to our Pharaoh?” Karim whispered to him. Mahaado shook his head, lowering his voice to a whisper as well.
“He needs to rest, the last few days have been very hard on him,” he said. “I will ask Mana to keep an eye on him, and get him something to eat to maintain his strength. He is going to need it to get through the burial, the coronation, and all his other obligations.”
Karim heaved a sigh. “We have to assist our Pharaoh any way we can.”
“We will,” Mahaado answered, determined. The Pharaoh wouldn’t expect anything less of his Priests. “For now, he must rest, and we need to attend to the late Pharaoh’s needs.”
“Who will announce the news in the city?”
“Set will send out his guards,” Mahaado said. “It is going to be very busy, my friend. We have to keep the Court going, and take some of the pressure on our Pharaoh away.”
“Very well.” Karim halted, as they had arrived at Atemu’s private quarters. The guards immediately took their positions next to the golden door panels. Atemu turned around to face the others, his posture strained and uncomfortable.
“I will be in my quarters if anyone needs me,” he said, his eyes briefly resting on Mahaado and Karim before opening the door and entering his room. Mana was about to follow him, but at a short cough of her teacher, she stopped.
“Master?”
“Apprentice,” Mahaado said, proud that she, even in this stressful moment, remembered the correct way to address him. “I want you to stay with our Pharaoh and make sure he eats and rests some. I will visit him later this evening. However,” he focused his stern look at the guards, “no one but the Six Priests, my Apprentice and the vizier will pass these doors. If our Pharaoh is bothered by anyone else, I will deal with them as I see fit.”
The guards bowed and reassumed their positions in front of the door, sharp spears ready to stop any intruder. Mahaado watched Mana enter the room, before he turned around and beckoned his fellow Priest to follow him. There was much work to be done.
Mana’s heart weighed heavy and she fought against the tears about to spill. She had to be strong, for both her Pharaohs- she had come to see Akunamukanon as her own father as she grew up in the Palace. He had been so kind yet determined, and she had trusted him with her life. The Prince…no, Pharaoh now, was about to assume all his tasks and obligations…it was a daunting thought. Mana saw Atemu sitting on the sofa, his face blank as he was staring into nothingness. He had just watched his father die and keeping a tight mask was his way to fight off the tears and the despair now that his only relative had gone.
“Prince…eh, Pharaoh…”
“It is all right,” he said. Atemu didn’t mind how she called him either way, be it Prince or Pharaoh. Mana sat on the sofa next to him and searched out his hand again. It was her way of consoling him, of telling him that she was there for him. She wasn’t good with words, or so she thought; she had the tendency to babble and go on and on about nothing really important at all. At this moment though, she was sure Atemu needed wise words of consolation and encouragement, words that Aishizu would speak in her soothing, deep tone of voice, that made anyone instantly feel better. Mana rested with her head on his shoulder, sighing softly. No words were said, and her fingers entwined themselves with Atemu’s.
A modest knock on the door awoke her and she gasped. As her muscles protested from the cramped position they had been in, Mana realized that she had fallen asleep! Atemu was sitting like a statue, silent and emotionless, but she noticed the dark, black streaks on his cheeks, as the kohl around his eyes had smeared. Her best friend had been crying for the loss of his father, and she had fallen asleep on his shoulder! Mana felt horrified and remorseful. How could she have fallen asleep while her best friend needed her the most? Another knock on the door, this time more urgent.
“Would you…?” Atemu asked, voice soft.
“Of course.” Mana quickly got up from the sofa and went to answer the door. A servant bowed and handed her a tray. She thanked him and brought the tray over to Atemu, carefully balancing it on her hands.
“Here, have something to eat.”
“I am not hungry.” Atemu ignored the tray with the bowls and plates on it, not interested in the figs, the cheese or the bread. Mana took one of the silver goblets and poured some wine from the silver carafe. Filling it half up, she used the other carafe with crystal clear water to dilute the wine. She handed the goblet to him.
“Drink some, for me,” she pleaded. Atemu took the goblet from her, distraught. Mana took his other hand and pressed a fig with a slice of cheese onto his palm
“Please, if only for me,” she urged him. Finally, he nibbled some of the fig, but not to his heart’s content.
“After you’re finished, you’re going to rest,” she said. “And I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, Prince, so…”
“Atemu,” he interrupted her. “My name is Atemu, Mana.”
“I’m not allowed to speak the Prince’s name…”
“I am a Pharaoh now, and my rule is that you address me with my name, when we are in private quarters,” Atemu said. “We have been friends for so long, Mana. It would be wrong if we allow our positions to come between us.”
“You’re right.” Mana smiled a little goofily, yet she felt excited. Receiving the Pharaoh’s permission to call him by his name was something very special! Carefully, she tried to call out his name.
“Atemu,” she said and giggled. Such childish behavior wouldn’t do, and she straightened herself, becoming more serious. “Atemu,” she repeated, “I want you to take some rest after you’ve finished that slice of cheese.”
“There is a lot of work to be done.” Atemu sipped the wine from the silver goblet. “I have to answer to my duties and plights.”
“You don’t have to,” she said. “I mean, not now. Set has the supervision on all the preparations and duties at the moment.” She spoke rather familiarly of the Priests in Atemu’s presence, especially when she couldn’t be overheard. Referring to the six Priests with all their respective titles got annoying and bothersome pretty fast to the girl. Mana noticed that Atemu had finished the fig and quickly pressed another one in his hand. “You can leave it all to him.”
Atemu chewed on the fig, motions slow and pensive. “I know I can trust Set, but I am Pharaoh now, and it is my duty to meet my people and take up my responsibilities as their ruler.”
“I’m at your side,” Mana said, almost cheerfully. “And my Master will be, and together we’ll stand strong!”
He smiled at her words, knowing that she spoke the undoubted truth. “I could not ask for better advisors.”
“Now eat some more,” she urged him again, but let it slide as soon as he shook his head. Apparently, two figs were all that he could handle at the moment, and it was of no use to continue imposing. Mana took a slice of bread herself, her stomach rumbling. She ate in silence, keeping an eye on Atemu.
“Go lie down,” she said softly. “I’ll keep watch over you.”
“I can not,” he protested, but his voice lacked vehemence. “How can I rest when there is so much work to do?”
“Come,” Mana said as she stood up and she reached for his hand again. Her gentle smile and insistence made Atemu cave in, and he stood up as well. Before she took him to the bedroom, she handed him a piece of cloth so he could clean his face and hands. She hadn’t mentioned the dark streaks on his cheeks, still feeling guilty about not being there when he had needed her the most. She made a stern vow to herself to keep watch over him indeed, and not forsake her vow this time.
At the threshold of the bedroom, Mana let go of his hand. These were Atemu’s private quarters, and she blushed at the thought of following him into his bedroom! He turned towards her.
“Thank you,” he said. “I will do my best to rest properly.”
“Prince,” Mana said, her cheeks flushed. “I will be here to watch over you, as I promised.”
“I know.” He went into his bedroom and Mana scolded herself mentally. She didn’t feel tired due to her short nap earlier, and she usually was quite energetic… maybe she could continue practicing some spells, while the Pr… Pharaoh was asleep? She realized that Atemu hadn’t corrected her when she had called him Prince. She chalked it up to him being tired. Mana wished to be closer to him, like sitting on his bed, to watch over him while he slept. She longed to brush the wayward strands out of his face and to touch his cheek, his warm skin. Maybe it was more intimate and closer than friends normally would interact, but Mana’s innocence, her warm personality and her desperate need to take care of her best friend as well as she could, made her overlook any boundaries.
The beautiful dancers moved in perfect unison to the music, their colorful clothes floating through the air as if they could follow the tones of the instruments: the arghul, the tambourine, the sistrum and the small, round drums. Mana took it all in excitedly, having never seen a feast like this before. The coronation of the new Pharaoh wasn’t just like any feast, of course. The banquet was overloaded with fresh fruit, vegetables, poultry, game and fish; the servants worked hard to keep everyone satisfied. Mana was eyeballing the large melon, carved in intricate slices, hoping to steal some for dessert. Atemu sat at the head of the table, flanked by his Priests. It was a small consolation that at least Mahaado was in his vicinity; with so many people around - Mana didn’t know who all these delegates and representatives were, but they were important enough to attend the coronation - she was unable to protect Atemu. She had her wand with her, but she hoped it wasn’t necessary to pull it out to perform a spell.
Aside from the guests, guards were also present at the banquet; not to eat, but to protect the Pharaoh. Even though Mahaado hadn’t told his theory about the former Pharaoh being poisoned, he had insisted that the new, young Pharaoh would be well-guarded. He didn’t need much to convince Set about extra guards. The men, despite being everywhere, sort of blended into the background. Should any trouble arise, they would be able to intervene quickly. Mana felt safe, but not at ease. The death of the late Pharaoh, the changes all around, Atemu’s new position… she didn’t like how their world had been turned upside down. Mana was smart enough to realize that Atemu would ascend the throne sooner or later, but she had hoped that that day would be far, far away.
At the head of the table, Karim leaned a little into Atemu. “Great Pharaoh,” he said gravely, “you should really eat more than two bites. There is still a whole evening you need to get through.”
“I know, Karim, thank you,” Atemu said and tried to eat another spoonful. Shimon, on his other side, put a slice of bread next to his plate.
“You have to be strong, Pharaoh,” the vizier said. “The entire nation is looking up at you now for hope and guidance. Have faith in yourself, and have faith in your people. You are young and still vulnerable, but you inherited your wisdom and your intelligence from your father. I just know you are going to lead Khemet to great heights.”
Atemu gave a weak smile. “Thank you, Shimon,” he said, “but I cannot do this all alone.”
“The Court is always here to assist you,” Karim offered generously. He spoke for all of the Priests, and Atemu was convinced of their loyalty. He didn’t want to become too dependant on his Priests or his vizier. A lot of his obligations and duties were his and his alone to bear, and he wasn’t about to disappoint anyone. Determined, he finished the rest of his plate much to Karim’s satisfaction, and he straightened his posture, preparing himself mentally for the rest of the evening.
The speeches were many and boring, but Atemu listened attentively to each and every one of them and made sure to personally thank the speakers for the wishing wells, blessings and other traditional tokens of respect. The officials and delegates offered him many gifts and thanks to Set’s strict organization, no one was left out (or allowed to speech for too long). Still, the evening hadn’t come to its end. Everyone went silent when Akunadin came into the room, the eldest Priest carrying a cushion embroidered with gold threads and large tassels at each corner. In the middle was the Sennen Puzzle, majestically draped on the fabric; the ultimate Item of power, only to be worn by the Pharaoh, symbol of his power.
Atemu was silent as he listened to the traditional lecture, read by Set from ancient scrolls, about responsibilities, duties and plights. His eyes were glued to the golden object. Not a few days ago, it had hung around his father’s neck, dangling on his chest, and he hadn’t known him any better than wearing this particular… pendant. Set rolled up the scrolls, having finished the text, and Akunadin stepped up to Atemu’s chair, sliding the cord over his head. The Puzzle came to rest against his chest, its weight heavy, almost uncomfortable, and Atemu tugged at the cord as if he could adjust it to his liking. The upside-down pyramid with the Eye on the front represented his plight and heavy duty as a Pharaoh, yet he felt oddly.. consoled by the Item. Steeling himself, Atemu rose up from his chair, noticing all the eyes focused on him, as he was about to deliver his first speech as Pharaoh.
He was only thirteen, an adult at his age, who had lost his father a few days before. He wasn’t afraid to speak to the crowd – he was sure they would listen to every word, simply because he was the Pharaoh. Right now, with the first word coming over his lips, he wasn’t Atemu anymore, he was the Pharaoh, the living personification of the Gods, their Son who would rule in their name. He opened his mouth and parting his lips. He was a representative of the Gods, and the words seem to come on their own. Atemu had carefully memorized what he was going to say, but these weren’t the words he had written down earlier in preparation. This was his own promise, his own pledge, his very own oath to help his people, to take care of his nation, to do his very best to keep and maintain peace, to be fair and right and serve the Gods. He felt drained when he finished, but basked in the overwhelming applause and the loud chant of “Pharaoh! Pharaoh!”. The approving nods of his Priests and Shimon meant more to him and he showed them a confident smile. He would stand strong, no matter what.
Two years later
Atemu was bored. The great Pharaoh of upper and lower Khemet was bored to tears. It wasn’t because of the Syrian delegate talking and talking, it wasn’t because of the excessive heat of the last days that warmed the entire Palace through and through, it wasn’t because of the massive workload waiting for him in general, it was the combination of everything. Atemu wanted to take a nap, preferably in a bed with cool, fresh sheets, and with some servants waving fresh air to him with large palm leaves.
“…and so, exalted ruler, I will be awaiting your decision in this.”
Atemu mentally thanked his father for his strict upbringing – and for teaching him the trick to keep an interested yet stern look on his face even though he wandered way off with his thoughts. It was nothing compared to Set’s extremely stern, statuesque look with his fierce blue eyes and thin, disapproving lips. The High Priest slipped every now and then, showing a scowl or a menacing glare if or when he disagreed.
“I thank you,” Atemu said. “Your plea has been heard, and I will take your arguments into consideration. You will be received again within three days to hear my answer.”
The Syrian delegate made the proper gestures to bid Atemu goodbye and escorted by a few guards, left the grand Throne Room. As he’d been the last of the speakers, Atemu made a gesture with his hand.
“We will take a short recess,” he said. The Priests relaxed, slumping even, now that they didn’t need to stand up as straight as a ruler.
Set immediately turned towards Atemu. He never slumped. “Why are we still listening to any of those Syrians?” He snorted. “You know they are all but dying to steal land from us, or to invade our borders as soon as we turn our head into the other direction.”
“Then we have to stay focused,” Atemu said, curtly. “This delegate came to me with sound objections. There must be a way we can maintain our peace treaties and trade covenants.”
“They are nothing but little children.” Set snorted again. “They keep trying to see how far they can go, to test your boundaries, Great Pharaoh. They only want things done their own way.”
“We will not blame them for trying,” Atemu said.
“We will blame them for wasting our time,” Set counter-attacked.
Mahaado tilted his head a little, having lost his interest in the conversation. His eyes drifted through the large Throne room, waiting for a servant to bring him a refreshment. Aishizu was supervising the servants and giving out some orders, while Karim stood in the corner with Shaadah, talking about nonsensical things. Akunadin was simply staring at nothing, as usual. What was the man thinking? Mahaado wished that he could read minds, every now and then. Shimon was standing next to a tall pillar, also lost in thought. Mahaado didn’t need to read his mind; the vizier was more than probably thinking of the next task at hand. He kept a very strict schedule and he had a sharp eye for everything that needed to be done and taken care of at a Royal Palace. Despite his age, Shimon was quite fit and more than adequate than many of his peers; he’d been in Akunamukanon’s service for decades, and it was a logical step that he would continue his tasks in the late Pharaoh’s son’s service.
Mahaado wondered sometimes how old Shimon was, but he didn’t dare to ask such an impolite question. He focused his thoughts on something else. Priesthood could be quite boring, sometimes. Especially when the entire day was filled with tedious meetings like these: endless discussions and conversations about topics that weren’t really productive. Mahaado wobbled a little from one foot to another, if only to give his stiff muscles an opportunity to move and relax. He’d been standing straight for hours on end. Every now and then, Atemu would hold a public audience, in which even the simplest commoner could ask him a question. The Priests were shocked at first, the mere thought that a peasant could be so close to a son of the Gods was just devastating, but Atemu held his nation, and the common people, in high regard. “I am not much of a ruler if I do not listen to my people,” Atemu had said, and not one of the Priests had protested, not even Shimon.
He almost wished Mana was around to liven up the place or at least bring a bit of laughter. His Apprentice had been studying tediously, for which he commended her. She had quite the heka to… he was interrupted in his thoughts when Aishizu all but cried his name – not in panic, but a sharp call for his attention. He immediately knew what was going on and quickly moved forward so he was in front of Atemu. He upheld his robe, catching a dart in the folds of the fabric.
“Guards!” Set bellowed, and slight panic broke out; people ran back and forth, dropping whatever they had been carrying, and the servants ran away, making sure not to be in the guards’ path.
“There he is!” On the balcony, a man clad in a simple, shoddy shenti, was already dropping to his knees as the guards encircled him, spears at his throat. A blow pipe and another dart were next to his left knee; one of the guards kicked it away, but the man didn’t make a move to retrieve his weapon.
“Bring him here!” Set made a dramatic movement with his arm. Mahaado picked up the dart very carefully, with his hand wrapped in his robe. Set noticed his fellow Priest’s gesture and asked: “What is it?”
“I need to study this,” Mahaado answered. “It would have killed our Pharaoh if I had not been able to catch it…” He couldn’t see if the extremely sharp dart had been coated with poison. He shivered at the thought of Atemu being hit with it. Aishizu had the gift of predicting the future, with the help of her Sennen Item, the Tauk - she had foreseen the perpetrator, and how he was attempting to kill the Pharaoh…
“Lousy thieves,” Set mumbled. Mahaado gave the dart to a servant who caught it in a linen cloth, and ordered him to bring it to his study room. Then, he turned around to see how Atemu was doing. Slightly irritated, he noticed Karim standing next to him, a little bit too close to his taste.
Schooling his face in a perfect neutral expression, Mahaado was about to say something when a slight ruckus caught his attention. The assassin tried to break free, struggling in the grip of the guards. Set looked like he was about to kill the man, his fingers tight around his Item, the Sennen Rod. Only the Priests were aware of the dagger concealed in the Item.
“How did you sneak past the guards?” Set wanted to know, and Mahaado could hear the anger in his voice, not only directed at the prisoner, but also at himself. The High Priest was in charge of the palace guards and he took his task very, very seriously.
The man didn’t answer, his defiance completely gone. His eyes were wide, and focused on the spears, pointed at his throat. He sweated all over his body. Set made a disdainful noise.
“Fine. If you are not going to answer to me, then you are going to answer to all of us,” he brusquely said.
“Set!” Atemu spoke for the first time since the accident, and all the Priests snapped their heads at him. Mahaado felt relief that Atemu wasn’t shocked or upset, but on the other hand, he hated seeing Atemu so perfectly composed like this, as if the assassination attempt didn’t bother him at all. “He is afraid. You will gain nothing by threatening him.”
“If the Great Pharaoh knows an adequate way to make him answer, I will listen,” Set retorted dryly.
Shimon was appalled. “Set! Don’t be so disrespectful.”
“It is all right,” Atemu said, and raised his hand, calming everyone down. “Look at him. He wears nothing but a shenti, torn and filthy. He is too afraid to talk. It is obvious that he was promised gold to do this, and in his despair he put his own life at stake.”
Set didn’t flinch, but Mahaado knew from the narrowed eyes and the tight frown that the High Priest wasn’t going to forget this little correction anytime soon. He looked back at the prisoner, the man still sweating, his eyes almost bulging out of their sockets. At Atemu’s hand gesture, the guards pulled back the spears a little, leaving the man some room to breathe. The prisoner immediately threw himself to the ground, his scrawny body shaking and shivering. Atemu stood up from his throne, with Karim immediately stepping next to his side. Mahaado made a mental note to talk to his fellow Priest, suddenly realizing that he wanted to be next to Atemu. The trembling prisoner kept his nose to the floor and mumbled prayers. Atemu halted in front of him.
“Look up,” he said.
The man kept his head low, almost kissing the floor. One of the guards used the other end of his spear to lift the man’s chin up.
“Obey your Pharaoh!”
Forced, the man looked up, grimacing toothlessly, his eyes firmly closed.
“I will not allow any harm to come over you,” Atemu said, soothingly.
Set snorted loudly in the background, obviously disagreeing with Atemu’s approach. Akunadin stood next close to him, hands crossed in front of his chest, fingers clutching at the folds of his robe. Aishizu and Shaada watched with tensed expressions on their faces.
“No harm will come over you,” Atemu repeated. He gestured at the guards that they had to retreat completely. They exchanged confused glances and looked at the High Priest for approval, muttering under their breaths. Atemu frowned, and the guards stepped back, but kept a tight grip on their spears
“You must have been very desperate to do this,” Atemu continued. “You were promised gold to take this risk, right?”
Finally, the prisoner nodded. Sweat rolled over his forehead, and he blinked a few times to keep it out of his eyes. He licked his lips, keeping his eyes closed again.
“Who promised you the gold?”
The man shook his head firmly. Shimon took a few steps forward, flanking Atemu on the right, where Karim was still on the left.
“Please answer your Pharaoh,” he said, taking the same approach as Atemu. The man’s fear had nothing to do with the guards anymore. There was something else that struck fear into the prisoner.
“I…” the man licked his lips again. “I can’t…”
His speech was rough, with an accent that Shimon recognized as from the far south. This man had traveled a long way to come to the Palace, hiding among the people who were waiting in line for the public audience. Somehow, he had managed to find a way to the balcony, without being noticed, and he had set up his deadly attempt to kill the Pharaoh…
“Please tell me,” Atemu said. “I will…”
“I can’t tell you!” the man shouted. “I can’t!”
“Then describe it to us,” Shimon said, using a fatherly tone of voice. “Give us some information about who promised you the gold. Remember that the Pharaoh is honorable and merciful to you, you who tried to take his life. You would do well to answer to that honor and mercy.”
The man kept his eyes closed, and shook his head again, more and more furiously. “I can’t…he’ll kill me! I want to see my wife and children again..! Please, just let me go…”
“You tried to kill the Pharaoh.” Shimon dropped the fatherly act. “You will give us information. A description, or a name…we just cannot let you go. For that, your crime was too severe.”
“A thousand gold pieces!” The man spoke hastily. “Thousand…thousand!” He kept repeating the number as in a trance. Atemu looked quizzically at Shimon.
“We’ll give you the thousand gold pieces if you tell us who ordered you to kill our Pharaoh,” he said.
“Ridiculous! You are going to reward him?” Set exclaimed, his voice carrying easily through the entire Throne Room. He was clearly ticked off, tapping on the lower half of the Sennen Rod, the part wherein the dagger was concealed. Mahaado really didn’t wish to be a prisoner in Set’s clutches, but he had to agree with his fellow Priest: the Pharaoh was far too lenient.
“Great Pharaoh, we better judge this man with our Items,” he suggested. Every Priest had an Item, one of the powerful seven Sennen Items; they could determine if there was any evil in this man, and draw out any wicked kaa and imprison it. Atemu looked over his shoulder, holding up his hand as if signing to wait.
“I can’t…I can’t tell…” the prisoner kept repeating, body trembling violently. “A thousand gold pieces…”
“Great Pharaoh, we should hold him incarcerated until there’s a better time for him to talk,” Shimon said. “He needs to calm down. We…”
“He’ll kill me! Kill me!” the man interrupted the vizier, his eyes bulging, his voice cracking under the loudness of his screams and shouts. “The King of-“
Karim grabbed Atemu and unceremoniously pushed him away from the prisoner as the man spat out blood and keeled over.
“Enough with the charade!” Set stepped forward, his sharp eyes immediately noticing the arrow protruding from the man’s back. “Bring the Pharaoh to his quarters and guard him! Comb out the Palace and bring everyone suspicious to me! Have all the commoners guarded and brought to one room for interrogation!”
“Set!” Atemu protested, but Karim had already wrapped an arm around him and lead him away, not paying any attention to his protests. Shimon, who had been surprised by the turn of events, looked in horror at the blood spatters on his robes, then to the dead prisoner.
“Find the one responsible for this!” Set snarled, pointing with his Sennen Rod to the man on the floor. “Have this taken care of, now!”
Mahaado decided to stay in the Throne Room and help to contain the chaos. He had to trust his fellow Priest to take care of the Pharaoh, though he still had to suppress a fit of jealousy quite forcefully.
Previous chapters: 1 |
