Running Through My Head

Chapter 7: Gifts And Dinner-Tim Philosophy

Yami, needless to say, was not so amused.

“HOW is this even remotely funny?” He demanded to know, having to speak (Yell) over Amber’s fits of giggles.

“You should have seen the look on your face! Your eyes were as big as saucers!” And she dissolved yet again into a long bout of laughter. The Pharaoh would have found this all just as amusing, just not in this configuration of events. At the moment, he was waiting for her hysteria to subside so he could make a few things PERFECTLY clear.

“Are you quite finished?” He asked when she finally calmed a bit.

She took one look at his face and snorted a “No!” before she was a shaking mass of mirth again. The Pharaoh could only heave a long irate sigh and rub his temples with his fingers again as he sat back down on the edge of the bed; it seemed that his headache had been running ever since Amber’s absence, but her presence was not really helping at the moment. “Migraine?” She asked when she had finally calmed down for real this time.

“No, headache.” He replied stiffly, to which she could only arch an eyebrow, and look skeptical. Amber looked as though she was just about to say something sarcastic, but a knock at the door stopped her, and both looked up as a pair of soft violet eyes and mess of spiky hair peeped through the opening. The Pharaoh’s so-called slave, was only aware of a small body with spiky hair running towards her at top speed, and either shrieking or laughing her name, just before all the wind was knocked out of her. It felt as though the small pair of arms around her was trying to constrict her with affection.

“Hi Yugi!” She just barely choked out.

“Amber! I missed you!” He squealed, hugging her tighter, and not noticing that she winced, because (being smallish) his face was somewhere other than level with hers.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed!” She squeaked, from lack of oxygen as well as increasing physical pain.

The Pharaoh on the other hand was busy thanking the gods for this form of what was clearly divine retribution. Amber would not do anything to hurt Yugi; he knew that. So it was therefore inconceivable that she would do much to dissuade him from hugging, or in this case smothering her. Yami was just wondering how many of Amber’s ribs his little brother had succeeded in cracking, and how many of his own had been damaged from beating down the urge to burst out laughing. But these thoughts were shortly disrupted by a mass of red fur making its presence known by leaping elegantly onto the bed.

Pippin the cat sat on his haunches next to Yami, and looked at the little prince and young woman with an expression only a cat can give; it was the kind of look that said, Well Miss? Just where have you been?

“Hey Pippin-baby!” Amber just managed to get out, still being hugged to death. The cat’s tail twitched back and forth as if it was contemplating her punishment, which it probably was. “Uh, Hey, Yugi?” Amber said with her last bit of breath, hoping to get his attention and have him let up before she passed out. It worked. The child loosened his grip enough to look up at her with almost comically wide, happy eyes. “I brought something back for you that I thought you might like.”

This grabbed the attention of both males. Yugi smiled up at her and wondered what she could have gotten him, and why. His elder brother on the other hand, was wondering what trick, if it was a trick, she was thinking of playing on the boy. He kept his sharp purple eyes on Amber’s every move as she clambered off the bed and opened some oddly shaped case, or trunk or whatever the thing was. When she settled back on the bed she held the thing out to Yugi. It seemed to be something made of red and gold, but the actual substance was rather flimsy, even more so than papyrus-paper.

Yugi, still clearly not sure what to make of the thing took it, and held it as though it were made of glass, or delicate eggshells. “Thank you.” He said to Amber, who looked a bit confused for a moment.

“The gift is inside the wrapping sweetie.” She said with a smile. She reached out and flipped it over in his hands to show him the back. “See? The paper comes up and apart there.” She pointed to the place where it had been taped.

Carefully as he could, Yugi pried up the paper and tape, keeping it remarkably intact and whole. What was inside, now lay on the opened and unfolded wrapping. It was quite possibly the strangest thing either of the two Egyptians had ever seen. A spider’s web with tiny glittering beads in it was pulled tightly to a circular cloth-covered frame. From one end was a loop of fine cording, and from the other was a bit more of the same cording, though with beads and feathers hanging down from the ends.

“Wow, what IS it?” Yugi asked in wonder, not touching the thing, because he was not sure if he really should.

Yami watched his slave smile as she picked the thing up by the loop of cord and held it up for his little brother to see. “It’s a Native American Dream-Catcher.” She said.
“Uh, what does it do?” Yugi asked exactly what Yami wanted to know.
“Well, it works as a sort of protection.” She explained, to the renewed intrigue of the brothers. “You hang it over your bed and it catches bad dreams and bad spirits, while it lets good dreams and things through the beads. It holds the bad dreams until the morning light comes and POOF!” She made a little exploding motion with her hands
“Oh, WOW! Does it really work?” Yugi asked looking in awe at the thing.

“It always worked for me.” Amber said smartly, and that was apparently good enough for the child.

Yugi hugged her again and then backed off so she could breathe. “Thank you!” He said as she placed the thing gently in his hands. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know I didn’t have to; I wanted to.” She told him smiling with an emotion Yami supposed was a sense of maternity in her.

Yugi turned to his brother with a smile so wide it nearly touch both ears. “Can I hang this in my room?” He asked eagerly.

Yami allowed only a mild smile as he nodded, and his brother dashed out of the room, the door shutting none too gently behind him. The Pharaoh hadn’t noticed, but in the intrigue of the little gift, his headache had seemed faraway and forgotten. But now it was reminding him that it was not to be pushed aside so easily as that.

Meanwhile, Amber was sitting there, cross-legged, stoking Pippin, and determinedly avoiding eye contact with the ruler of Egypt. There was an image in her mind of what might happen if she looked up at him; something along the lines of seeing him grinning like a fiend, and pouncing on her. But it wasn’t the fact that he might do this that scared her so much as the possibility, however remote, that she might actually like what he would do to her. That dream that she had had still left her deeply shaken. There was no doubt in her mind that he was physically appealing, but that attitude of his was something that might make her bash in her own skull if left alone with him long enough.

Yami knew well enough that she was averting her gaze on purpose. Her whole body seemed tense, and he doubted it was from any residual pain left by his brother’s hug-attack. She was determined to ignore his presence, and he of course would not tolerate being ignored like this. Inching closer, he did not miss how stiff and forced her movements had become. The silence stretched for a time, but Yami had the feeling it would be best to let her speak first.

Eventually the edgy lack of sound got to her, and Amber took a deep steadying breath before speaking. “Just tell me honestly, your brother hasn’t been blaming himself has he?” She asked without preamble. There was no need for her to explain what subject she was referring to. There was a pause, and Amber wondered if it would have been better to have just kept her mouth shut and not ask anything.

“He did for a time.” The Pharaoh’s voice was level, not angry, not sad, and not happy; it would have been better if he’d ground the words out, or yelled them or something. This lack of feeling in his tone was scary because this did not seem like him.

“And?” Amber asked, now sparing him a glance out of the corner of her eye.

“I told him not to.” At this, Amber looked up sharply, and the expression on her face was a cautious one, though a bit angry too. “He was not the one who threw the knife.” Yami’s face was almost a mirror of hers, except for the obvious fact that they did not share the same face. “And he did not ask you or anyone else to shield him.” He added this with a roughened tone, as though daring her to argue against him. And he was a little surprised when the look she was giving him shifted. Now Amber’s expression was softer, maybe even a little surprised.

She looked back at the cat sitting next to her. A sigh passed her lips as she began to stroke Pippin again. “You’re a good brother, you know.” She said quietly, her eyes closed.

There was a lot he picked up on in that simple sentence. She was saying he did the right thing; she was saying that she didn’t blame Yugi for the incident: nor did she blame him, the Pharaoh, for it; and she was glad that he had said what he’d said to the boy. It was sort of strange how she could be so profound without having actually said much.

Yami brought a hand up and rested it on her left shoulder. The pale pink line on her upper arm had not gone unnoticed. After giving her shoulder a brief squeeze, he let his fingers trace over the scar that the assassin’s knife had left. Amber gave an unsettling shift, probably covering a shudder, or so the Pharaoh thought.

“Are you well?” His voice broke Amber from her state of mind.

“Do you mean mentally or physically?” She asked sounding frustrated, though he could not think why.

“Both.” He replied, with that same emotionally lacking tone he had used only minutes ago.

The Pharaoh’s slave-girl heaved a long sigh and ran her fingers through her own semi-damp locks. “Physically, I’m ginger-peachy.” She said with a surprisingly matter-of-fact tone. “When I got home, I went to my doctor’s office and had the cut checked out-.”

“My own physician examined your wound. There should have been no problem.” Yami interrupted, eyes narrowed a bit.

“You trust your doctor and I trust mine.” Amber replied flatly. “Anyway, she put me on some antibiotics to make sure there wouldn’t be any infection. The worst I’ll ever have is that mark.” She gestured to the scar on her arm. “I can cope with that.” Yami only nodded at this.

When she did not go on, it seemed necessary to prod her just a little. “And mentally?” He asked carefully, not sure if she would flare up again or not.
With yet another heave of breathe she shook her head sending the long tresses waving. “I’m pretty sure I’ve had a complete break-down.”

“Why do you say that?” He wanted to know, because she did not seem unhinged, at least not from what he could tell.

Now her expression had turned pointed again. “I came back here didn’t I?”

Ah, there it is. The Pharaoh thought with a smirk curving the corners of his lips. He knew that sarcastic, fiery side of her must still be in there somewhere. So there’s really nothing wrong with her. He was surprised at the relief in his own thoughts, but chose to ignore it for now.

Amber felt the bed shifting beside her again, and her head snapped upwards when she felt a pair of strong arms around her shoulders, hugging her, shoulder first, to a firm masculine chest.

“The hell do you think you’re doing?” She asked, and tried to back away a bit, seeing the smirk on his face. It was never a safe thing when he had that look on his face. But his arms only tightened further around her and would not allow her to ease away.
“You’re amusing when you’re annoyed like this.” The Pharaoh told her, still grinning, and leaning in a bit closer.

“You just like seeing me unnerved.” Amber said tartly, looking irritably at anything but him.

“Yes.” His breath tickled over her ear. “What’s your point?” He asked when he felt her shift uneasily again to cover the shiver her body gave.

“Will you back off?” She said through gritted teeth. “I’m in no mood to deal with your antics, not after the morning I had.”

“Hmm, was it that bad?” If she hadn’t known better, Amber would have sworn that his majesty had added a good healthy dose of innuendo to that question. So, with irritation peeking yet again, she looked at him and gave the kind of smile that hinted insanity. At least, she would have looked crazed if he hadn’t known better.

“Oh, you know. It’s the kind of thing that leaves you with the urge to wake up and kill something.” The Pharaoh’s grip had loosened a bit, but was now snug again as he rested his chin on her shoulder.

“And what do you feel now?” It was either his breath or his eyelashes that touched her flushing skin and Amber could not tell which because she was making a good effort at pretending not to notice. It was not an easy thing to do, especially since Yami seemed to know that she was faking this. And in a way, it amused him to watch her shut her beautiful eyes tightly and look as stubborn as ever- determined not to acknowledge what he was doing to her. Feeling the need-and not knowing why- he brought one hand up and pushed some stray locks back from her face. It was a gesture of tenderness, but it only struck him as such a moment after he’d done it. The only response this got out of Amber was her taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly again. For a moment, the Pharaoh wondered if it was his touch, or even just his presence that was bothering the young woman. But he didn’t want to believe it was that, or at least not that alone. There must be something else eating at her for her to be acting like this. He laid a soft kiss on her cheek, though he would have liked to have done more than that, and used his fingers to turn her face to his again. “What’s the matter?” It was clear that his slave was surprised at his actions, or so he though from the look on her face.

For her own part, Amber was not all that surprised by Yami’s actions, but rather by the tone he had just used. To her, it had sounded like that calm, rational, distinctly adult tone of voice that lives in the back of each individual’s head; it was the kind of voice that scolded you when one did something they knew was wrong, and the same one that held the need of dignity and grace when celebrating a victory of any kind. Yes, his tone had sounded like that voice, gentle yet serious.

But she recovered from her shock enough to say, in a tired voice, “It’s nothing you need to worry about, I can handle it.”

This, naturally, did not sit will with the ruler of Egypt. “You belong to me; therefore your problems are my problems.” He said patiently, though with a slight edge in his deep voice.

“So you have a certain time of the month too?” Amber remarked with a wicked little half-smile, which was really a half-smirk.

“Don’t be cheeky with me.” He warned as though he were a father admonishing a child.

“It’s my nature, can’t help it now.” She said loftily and passing a shrug through her shoulders.

“And wouldn’t if you could, you’ve a mighty high opinion of yourself.” He remarked smartly. Though he couldn’t help thinking, She really is like a cat. The way she seemed to shift one mood into the next and be so collected at times and so broken at other times, it was strangely impossible. But then again, so was everything else about her.

“Uh, do you mind letting me go?” Her question brought him back out of this thoughts and he looked at her with curiosity. “I’d like to do something with my hair before it gets any wilder.” She said, motioning to her own head.

Now the Pharaoh had had her around him jut long enough to know how her hair looked when it was down, because during her last stay, her long soft mane had always been down and loose. So one could hardly blame him for being curious as to what she would do with it this time. With this in mind, he backed off and made himself comfortable, the better to see what she would do.

Amber slid off the bed, with more grace than the action was really supposed to be afforded, and opened up her suitcase again. Finding a hairbrush was no difficulty, but it took a little time to find an elastic hair tie. But she found one, a black sparkly one, and slipped it over her right wrist for safekeeping until she would need it. She had to start brushing her hair at the bottom of the length first; that way there would not be as many snags and knots to work out as she went through it.

Yami was entranced by the whole thing, which seemed almost like some kind of ritual from his point of view. His own hair never posed such a problem, it simply grew the way it was: spiky, many-colored, and all over the place. Watching her, he somehow gained the mental impression of a lion using its forepaws to comb through its own mane. But now that it was all brushed out, she started to do something else with it.

Why is she weaving it like that? He wondered as her hands worked their way through her tresses, steadily turning the mass into a long rope-like cord. At length she was finishing weaving the very end of the hair-rope and slipped the sparkly black thing over her wrist and around the end of her woven hair. Now he could see it ended in a single saucy little curl. Yami was not sure he altogether liked her new hairstyle; it reminded him too much of a rope, or a long poisonous snake. Needless to say, he did not like either image at all. “I like it better down.” He commented as she turned back to face him. And he noted with some measure of disappointment that it robbed her of a kind of elegance that he had not noticed she had.

“Tough, it’s MY hair.” She stated as though the matter were now closed. This obviously did not please Yami. However, still thinking on how like a rope it now looked, it did give him an idea.

I know I’ll never hear the end of this. He thought with almost a rueful expression, except that he was smiling way too much. He reached out one hand and took a good firm grip, pulling gently back. Amber, of course, arched right over backwards so that now she was supporting herself on her hands and looking up at an upside-down Pharaoh. He was still grinning.

“It’s not a bell-pull!” She ground out through clenched teeth.

He chuckled at that. “Dinner will be ready soon. And you will need to get ready.” At her confused expression he went on. “Put on some proper clothes.”

“I’m not wearing that scanty little thing again.” They young woman scoffed quickly.

Yami blinked. “Then what do you intend to do? Go naked?”

“Oh I bet you’d like that.” Was Amber’s flat remark. “I’ll wear my shirt and a pair of shorts thanks.” She continued briskly.

“A pair of what?” It probably should have dawned on Amber that the ruler of Egypt wouldn’t have a clue what she was talking about. And more over, she didn’t really care to explain.

“Consideration for female privacy please!” She said sharply, picking up some oddly shaped blue clothing and settling both hands on her hips.

“Excuse me?” His expression was a bit arched and not at all in the humorous way. In fact he was starting look annoyed again.

“Turn around.” She actually ordered, and added as an afterthought, “You Neanderthal.” But it was foolish of her to think that he would do so even when she had turned her back to him. Probably thinking that he had done what was good, and proper and all the rest of that rot, the Pharaoh’s slave pulled off the long fuzzy leg-coverings and set them aside.

What in the world is she WEARING? Yami was about ready to yell this out when he saw, quite clearly, the odd, flowery pattered cloth clinging around the most intimate area of a woman’s body. He had never known any woman who wore something like that, and it was not for lack of experience either. Although it was often not as easy as many would think, there were definitely some perks to being the Pharaoh. And he continued to watch, without the slightest sense of guilt, as she pulled the blue clothing over her legs and up higher, thus covering her backside and the floral patterned thing. There was a sound as of something being ripped, but he would not have recognized that this was a zipper. When she turned to face him again he quickly averted his eyes so as to not incur her wrath just yet. By all accounts, she was being positively civil.

“You can look now, you shameless pervert.” So he did, and saw that the blue clothes were like her other leg-coverings, only much shorter falling to about the mid-thigh area. She was wearing the same short kind of tunic as before, when he had first entered his room and found her lying there.

“Why not wear what is proper for a slave of your standing?” He asked, and for a moment there was rage in her pretty face.

But instead of an eruption, she shoved a sigh out of her lungs and said, “Because I prefer clothing that I won’t fall right out of.” And that was where Yami left that soon to be argument, since there was no point pursuing it, and since they would likely miss dinner and probably desert as well if he did.

“C’mon.” He said gesturing towards the doors. “We’ll be late for dinner.”

“How can you be late for your own meal?” Amber asked a bit sarcastically as they left the Pharaoh’s private chambers behind.

“It is possible.” Yami merely stated. After that, the remainder of the walk was a subdued affair.


Now as they stood outside the dining hall, the Pharaoh felt the need to point something out again. “You realize you’re going to endure a great deal of staring?” It sounded more like a stYamient than a question.

“They normally stare at me don’t they?” Amber pointed out dryly.

“And never forget, you are my slave here,” Yami could see her opening her mouth furiously to argue, but headed her off. “Behave yourself tonight, and no one will dare lay a finger on you. The gentry are a flock of sheep, but there are a few wolves among them; do not give them any excuse to make a move.” And Yami suspected, without much proof, that these words had a more profound effect on his slave than he had initially expected.

Amber had opened her mouth to retaliate, seemed to be failed by words, and shut it again and shook her head. ”You think they’re really that dense?”

“Some of them.” He replied with a nod. With that issue now settled, they entered, Amber playing her role by following a good three feet behind her “Master.”


Dinner was more or less just as usual from Amber’s point of view. There was a great deal of talk- not all of it related to her, thankfully- orders barked every now and again, a little political banter back and forth, and of course Yami never missing an opportunity to make his rather attractive slave do whatever he wanted, even if he didn’t really need it. Under this duress- at least she was pretty sure that that was the proper categorization for her situation- Amber poured wine, was made to taste it because he told her to, was instructed to sampled each of the foods he ate, serve said dinner to him bite by bite, and was more or less coerced into promising him a massage after dinner. She promised herself that he would pay for making her jump through these ridiculous hoops. And she logically figured that this was his way of punishing her without the use of chains, whips, knives or any other instruments of physical torture.

Presently, the Pharaoh held out his cup, and- resisting the urge to empty the wine decanter over his head- Amber filled the cup without any outward sign of her inner thoughts.

“Your Majesty must really visit some day soon.” The man to the Pharaoh’s left was saying fervently. This man, though not unattractive, looked to be somewhere in his late 40s or early 50s. He was in good physical form, not bloated like the stereotypical image of something like a roman emperor. And his hair and eyes were both of fair color, though this was due to the fact that his hair was nearly white, although his eyes were a blue-gray color. The robes, jewels and decorations he wore indicated that he was a person of some great importance back home, but even so, to Amber he was quite transparent. Apparently, Yami was thinking something of the sort too.

“Arishaka, my friend, as fascinating as Babylon undoubtedly is,” Amber wondered if she correctly interpreted the hint of sarcasm in the Pharaoh’s voice. “Why should I want to leave the comfort of my home, and people behind?” At the word ‘people’ he had caught Amber by one wrist and pulled her very close indeed, nearly more than what was considered decent in these times. This would have left the young woman wondering if there was a concept of decency in the part of the world yet, but what happened next grabbed her attention.

“There is much to see and do there; and besides, a visit may, well, inspire me to have a nice talk with one of my daughters.” Here he gave a very suggestive look at both Yami and Amber. “They are all of prime age to wed, and after all, travel is so broadening, wouldn’t you agree?”

“That depends on what you mean by ‘broadening.’” The Pharaoh said as he looked up at his slave and grinned in a way that reminded her of a kid getting ready to play a really nasty trick. Both men laughed as she huffed and rolled her pretty green eyes. Well, at least they found her amusing.

“Well, you never know, one of them may take a fancy to Your Majesty. And young and attractive as they are…” The man, Arishaka, left the sentence unfinished so as to take a bite of food and a swig of wine. “Each of them was raised in the best society, any one of them would make a perfect wife for the right-.” But here he stopped and he was not the only one who looked at the Pharaoh’s fair-skinned slave. She had made a derisive noise, which was none too discrete, and had a certain kind of expression on her face. It was the sort of look that plainly says, “What fools these mortals be.”

Playing at calm annoyance, though secretly curious, Yami looked up at her. “You have something to say? Then say it.” It was both a command and a challenge but she seemed utterly unshaken by it.

“That remark about a perfect wife; perfection doesn’t exist, anyone can tell you that.” Amber had to restrain herself from sounding overly superior, but it was damned difficult to do, especially since it had been clear that Yami held little or no interest in the prospect of bedding his friend’s daughters.

“Insolence! You should learn your place here slave!” Arishaka barked at her as though this were his own household. But he silenced as the Pharaoh held up a hand.

It would never sit right with Yami to have anyone, even a friend or ally, usurping his role as master of the household, and Ruler of Egypt. “Let her speak.” He then turned to Amber, now facing her fully. Now it really was a challenge, and he wanted to see and know what she would do about it. “Well speak up. How is it that perfection is impossible?”

“It’s simple.” She replied with a tone that showed both poise and controlled demeanor. “Everyone has their own idea about what it means to be perfect. A perfect house, a perfect meal, a perfect game, a perfect life…”She ticked them off on her fingers as she went on. “The thing is, since everyone has their own idea, their own variation of what a perfect ‘whatever’ is, what may be perfection to one person, will not be so for another. Doesn’t that make sense?” She only asked that last question because nearly all who had been paying attention were now sitting either with dumfounded facial expressions, or else sat with their mouths hanging open. Yami on the other hand was looking a bit smug, though Amber was not sure why. And the man named Arishaka was looking quite angry at this obvious display of intellect.

“You’re out of line slave!” He snarled at her, and sent a cup’s worth of wine flying in her direction. His Majesty was about to intervene, but his slave had already ducked, the wine sailing past her uninhibited until it splashed all over a guard. She stood straight again, and the Pharaoh was not the only one to feel as if they did not see a slave but rather a calm collected young woman, who held more power in a word than most of then held in an army.

“There is no line.” Now the man’s jaw did drop, and Amber gave a fiendish grin all her own. “Or didn’t you know that?”


“I don’t know what you thought you were playing at.” It would have sounded like His Majesty had gotten his undies in a twist, if it weren’t for two facts: one, Amber seriously doubted that he bothered with underwear of any kind, and two he was smiling and looking so amused at the whole absurdity of the evening.

“Well damn! Could he BE a little more obvious?” She laughed without restraint, not fearing reprimand now. They were both in his bedchambers, just sort of lolling about on his over-sized bed since there really wasn’t anything else to do. Amber had changed back into her soft leg-coverings, which Yami learned were called, “Pajama-pants.”

“Why are they all so obsessed with the notion of me marrying?” If he hadn’t been laughing, it would have been a very serious question. And Amber decided to take it that way, but still in jest.

“Well, let’s see. First, you’re a man in power. Second, marriage suggests children, children suggests a stable line of succession. Third, plenty of women would die to be married to you because it means some security, and a cushy lifestyle for the rest of their days; also it doesn’t hurt that you’re pretty good-looking.” She added this as more just a little side-comment, but it did not pass Yami’s attention as such. But she plowed on anyway. “And forth, those related to anyone you marry will probably use whatever influence they gain from the union to every conceivable advantage.” The Pharaoh was still staring at her as she finished. “What? It’s all pretty likely isn’t it?”

Whatever his foolish opponents may think, the Ruler of Egypt was not stupid. He knew how petty and selfish people usually were. What struck him was the fact that a slave-girl knew it and knew how to comment about it. And he concluded that her intelligence was far to great to be the result of listening at doors or observing the comings and goings of any previous master. Someone had clearly taught her how to think, and more over, how to think for herself.

And if that’s true, then she must be of quite high standing wherever she’s from. After all, even the very wealthiest of women in Egypt were rarely taught such things. A woman’s place was in the home and in her husband’s bed, not a library or political meeting. “So, what would your advice be?” As soon as he had asked this, he wondered if it was completely out of curiosity. After all, she was an intelligent, attractive woman.

Amber’s teeth worried her bottom lip for a moment, and she looked at the ceiling, trying to think without wondering why he looked at her the way he did. “Well,” She paused, getting her thoughts together again. Then she let out a breath. “Offend reason and do what you think is right, but not just for the people.” He stared at her, wondering… “Well it’s your life too, you know.” Sighing and giving a smile, Yami stretched out on the bed next to his slave and rolled over so that he lay on his stomach in front of her. “Now what are you up to?” She almost sounded exasperated, but was still feeling the effects of the laughter to really care about his antics tonight.

“You promised me a massage, did you not?” He reminded her while smirking and folding his arms under his chin.

“Under duress, you shameless creature.” She remarked trying to look saucy.

“But you did promise.”

“Only because you made me.” Yami did not say anything more, but he lay there and smirked up at her like the cat that knew he’d already gotten the canary. “You’re a foul unethical bully.” Amber stated grumpily. But the Pharaoh knew she didn’t mean it from the first touch of her soft hands on his bare back. As she started to work through the kinks and strains from the past few months, Yami made up his mind that she would not leave the palace again so easily. The next time she tried an escape he would have her followed. This however was his last coherent thought, at least for a time. In the wake of the warmth and relaxation Amber was giving him, Yami’s mind drifted in and out of wakefulness.

Eventually he became aware of his own breathing, how much it had slowed, and how very like jelly his whole body now felt. But it was not an unpleasant sensation. And here and there he could still feel his slave’s hands working along his flesh. Moving his leaden-feeling arm, he gently caught her by the wrist. Amber looked to his face, a puzzled expression decorating her own tired features.

“Lie down.” The Pharaoh said in a sleep-drugged voice. Amber was indeed tired, and could feel it in the aching behind her eyes. So for once, she did as he asked without any resistance. Despite the feeling that his whole body must now be made of iron and lead mixed together, Yami made himself sit up, and pull the blankets over both of them. When he lay down alongside her again, he put both his arms around her waist, pulling her flush with his body. Amber gave one irritated and indecipherable grumble. “Sleep now.” It was the gentlest tone she had heard him use, ever. She glanced up at him, seeing his eyes half-lidded and hazy with the need for rest.

“Good night.” Amber said through a yawn.

Unbeknownst to her, she snuggled up to His Majesty only minutes after she had fallen asleep. But he was still awake, watching as his slave-girl lost herself in the land of dreams and visions. There was a soft blush in her fair cheeks, and a light smile on those very tempting lips. Bringing one hand up, Yami delicately traced the edges of her mouth, fascinated, though still sleepy. All he allowed himself was the softest brush of his lips on hers before finally settling his head on the pillows, his nose near the crown of her head, and letting sleep wash over him in one long, sweeping, warm embrace.


A set of unwelcome eyes looked in on the slumbering pair. And although the owner of said eyes could presently do nothing, he knew how to wait. He knew patience, even if he didn’t like it. Right now, he could not even strike at the little Prince, not since that girl had given the child some talisman, or charm or whatever it was. Whatever spell she had woven about the two royal brothers, he would have to be careful. She may have already caught onto him. It was possible, since he was absolutely sure she had seen him that first time; that time when he had just barely missed his target, and cut her arm instead.


This is me dealing with technical difficulties. Oh well, I'm not gonna sit here and make excuses. Next chapter will be up sooner than you think. *GRIN*