Disclaimer: Yu-gi-oh belongs to Takahashi Kazuki. Etc.

Execution Stage ~ Stripped of his dignity, the pharaoh suffers one final humiliation in return for saving his kingdom from the Yami no Games. Some more speculation on exactly how the Yami no Games were locked away, and what happened to the pharaoh who did it.

The great Ra crept into the day, inching forward at a snail's pace. For some, dawn could not come fast enough, eager as they were to witness the forthcoming event.

Call it a celebration of some sorts, if you please.

As for those condemned, dawn was coming too fast. How could even Ra, his supposed father, be betraying him in such a manner? Unless what the priests said was true, and that all… including the gods… had forsaken him and left him to his fate? For what purpose?

He did not know, although that was nothing new. Sometimes he wondered why he had ever cared enough to place a part of his soul and that of six others within those mysterious gold objects, even when he knew the possible repercussions. Sometimes he wondered why he had even bothered to sacrifice himself to an endless fate in order to save his kingdom.

Of course, he did not mean to imply that he was naïve enough to believe that nobody would object. As if. The priests enjoyed the power they got from the Yami no Game, and the nobles always enjoyed a stage to demonstrate their prowess and control. Of course he was not ignorant enough to believe that there would be no backlash from angering the two most powerful forces in the land.

Still, he had been naïve to believe that eventually, the powers would realize that he had locked the Yami no Game away in order to save them, preserve their future! Surely they would not have been bull-headed enough to ignore such an obvious fact?

The light filtered through the grimy bars, landing on his face. He stiffened and dragged himself away, ignoring the pain coming from his body, especially the lower half. The sound of chains echoed loudly as they moved, another harsh reminder of his ongoing stupidity.

Ra had shown into his son's cell and revealed the pathetic tears that had found their way into the world. There was a time that the pharaoh would have cared about showing weakness… what kind of pharaoh would allow himself to indulge in an act as pathetic as weeping?

But he wasn't pharaoh anymore. No, they had stripped that of him as well. Even as his death loomed closer, workers were under orders to destroy him in the afterworld too, defacing any mention of him in the histories and the many stone tablets that had been carved in his honor. Buildings were desecrated, art destroyed… anything with the barest mention of the once mighty pharaoh and his six accomplices were to be erased from memory.

Did he care? Well… not as much as he did before. Not as much as he had been when forced to stand before his people, listen to them cheer as the sentence was read. And the wind blowing, causing the chains to clink lightly, a delicate sound that the heavy iron did no justice to.

It had hurt, to realize that he had condemned himself and six others to an eternity in darkness only to have the people he was trying to save turn against him. Hurt, to realize that he had given so much only to have them cheer for his blood. So many people, from the poorest to the richest, had their day brightened by the prospect of their pharaoh degraded into a common prisoner whose death was pending.

He wondered idly if the others had suffered as he had. Perhaps, but probably not. The tomb robber was used to such matters, and the priest was untouchable even when condemned. The others had not been as well known, simply faces in an endless backdrop of lies and deceit.

That first night, the guards had come to his cell and defiled him. Over and over again, not because they found him beautiful or were driven by lust, but because they could. It was as simple as that. The prospect of controlling a being that used to be deemed untouchable was simply an offer too alluring to resist, a temptation that had to be satisfied.

And to imagine that was only the beginning. First his title, his position, his name. His identity had been reduced to the most basic terms of simply a human being, but then they had to take that from him. The last traces of his dignity, his body, his ability to control his own actions.

After the first time, he had wanted to die so badly that it wasn't in anyway funny. He didn't care if it meant having his soul eaten, as the priests had told him in no uncertain terms that such an event was to be his fate, and being cast into the abyss of nothingness for all of eternity; he had just wanted to end it. He didn't care anymore. He didn't care about what anybody thought of his weakness, his frailty. He was pathetic. So be it.

But couldn't they have allowed him to end it all for them? Why did they insist on keeping him alive, force-feeding him like the lowest dog and slave if necessary, simply so they could parade him around on this very dawn to a wide-eyed public who wanted nothing more than to see him die?

Was it really necessary to take it this far?

~ * ~

Red eyes blinked in a desperate attempt to adjust to the dawning light, but he was not even given time to do that before he was roughly pushed into the cart. The others were already there, resigned to their fate. Seven individuals who had made sacrifices only to find themselves on the execution stage. Fate really was cruel, and seemed to have a flair for dramatic irony. Or maybe it was just him.

Of the others, the tomb robber looked to be of the worst shape while the priest was unscathed. Immaculate. Just like him to be in such a pristine state.

He couldn't help but wonder what he looked like right now. Surely not his best showing. The guards had not been so gentle in their revelry, although he was beyond the point of really caring.

Nobody flinched as the cart began to move closer to their doom. It was to be simple, most likely the product of somebody with pity in their hearts for the seven pathetic wretches. Beheading. In front of the vast public, as anybody who wished to see was able to.

The cart took them through the heart of the city, and he couldn't help but stare ahead at what was to be the site of their demise. At least it made the obvious staring of the spectators easier to deal with. If he tried hard enough, would he be able to pretend that the stares weren't there?

He couldn't tear his eyes from the execution stage. Blood ran deep into the wood and sand, as many before had preceded his steps. But certainly none of his class, of his rank, of his level. This was to be a first, an ending and a beginning.

A beginning of what? A little voice shrilled in his mind. A beginning of what? Was there any reason for this to happen, for him to go through this? Was there?

Answer me!

Only silence followed. A long, drawn-out silence with no beginning and no end. Simply there…

He could hear one of his most loyal… formerly, at least… officials rankling the crowd. Calling them forward as one, a maddened beast roaring for their lives. Chants for their blood, but mostly his, rang in his ears as his face reddened slightly, although certainly nothing that could be easily seen.

Ungrateful masses. Eager for blood when he had done his best to save them.

The cart rolled to a stop, and the crowd continued to press forward, trying to reach them and rip them apart. The guards managed to keep them back, and more blood fell. He wanted to stand and scream for them to stop such nonsense, to understand what they were doing, but he didn't have the energy to do so. He didn't have any reason to want to.

The words continued on, angry and hateful. And he wondered again why he had done any of it.

He didn't blink as one by one the others were taken away. Didn't cringe at the sound of the executioner's ax hitting wood as it cut through flesh and bone. Didn't react as the roar and cheers grew louder to almost impossibly high levels. It seemed that even those in the afterlife could hear the cheers, hear the screams.

7… 6… 5… 4… 3… 2…

He was the only one left.

Before he had time to realize what that meant, coarse hands grabbed him, pulling him off the cart and forcing him to walk up the stairs to the stage. Faces swirled by until they blended into one identity, calling for his death. Expectant for his death. Eager for his death.

The sun was starting to get impossibly warm, its rays reflecting off the fresh blood that ran in the wood and sand which crunched beneath his bare feet in an ominous fashion. He stood there for a moment, taking his time as he surveyed the crowd. Nobody minded, all savoring his final moments. All knowing that there was no way he would escape from this.

"… I'm…" the word came out as a hoarse croak, weakened from screaming and then disuse. He frowned at that, but the soft sound had been heard by all even above the screaming, a feat impossible to comprehend yet right there. The crowd silenced, all staring at him with wide eyes.

Stripped of his gold, his jewels, his silks, his position, and his identity, he stood there before them looking like an ordinary person. A bit more bruised, though.

Yet his aura had not changed, the air of command that silenced them even with no intention of doing so. Tired violet eyes run through with blood blinked at them, an innocent move that caused some to shrink back despite everything.

"… tired." The second word came out a bit louder than the last one, but he could have whispered and all would have heard. He looked at them then at Ra again, hating them both for hurting him like this.

"We gave everything we could to save your souls from being drawn into the Yami no Games. For years many of you worried of the dangerous consequences from the games. And we sacrificed part of our souls to eternal night in order to prevent that from becoming reality.

"And yet you continue to scream for our blood.

"I said I'm tired… tired of this life and of doing things for people who don't care. I asked myself each day, why did I bother? And still could not find the answer." He shrugged slightly, ignoring the ever-present clank of the chains, as his red eyes surveyed them once more as if to burn the guilt within them forever.

"I'll leave you to your own vices, now. I'll allow you to suffer from your own actions. Ra knows that I am now. But you aren't my problem anymore."

The silence was deafening for only a moment longer when his former councilor barked out a sharp command and one of the guards forced him to his knees on the scaffold, pushing him down so his neck rested on the block where six others had laid that day.

How much had he given up to save these people and his gods? How much?

But stripped of that miniscule amount of power, none cared about what he had done in order to save their souls.

He was so tired of it.

He looked at the rising sun and the faces of his people for one last time. And both cursed and forgave the two in one final breath.

~ owari ~

The point of the story, to sum it up in a pretty package and to quote First Wizard Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander from Terry Gookind's Wizard's First Rule:

"Wizard's First Rule: people are stupid. People are stupid; given the proper motivation, almost anyone will believe almost anything. Because people are stupid, they will believe a lie because they want to believe it's true, or they are afraid it might be true… People are stupid; they can only rarely tell the difference between a lie and the truth, and yet they are confident they can, and so are all the easier to fool." (560)

This passage applies to the story because of what it represents: people will believe even lies. Yami sacrificed his power and his soul in order to save his people. But those in power were able to twist the truth and say that what he had really done was committed a crime against his people. Thus, people are stupid. They believed it.

So it goes.

Do I really believe that? Maybe, maybe not. But trust me, this is not the place to have a philosophical discussion on the vices of human nature with me.

Moonlight Reflection