The Pharaoh's Champion

Who am I? Who am I?.... Who am I, truly?

The room was split and tensions were high. You could cut the atmosphere with a knife. On one side of the duelling pit is a conspirator against the Pharaoh and his rabble of followers. On the other, a consortium of the Pharaoh's loyal subjects.

The air was stale with uncertainty.

The Pharaoh simply sat on his golden throne, his royal navy cloak spanned his chair and ruffled at his collar. Obediently stood beside him, surveying the room, keeping an extra close eye on the enemy, his Champion waited.

Slowly, her eyes moved around the room. Gently she breathed, steadfastly she stood waiting. Her eyes stayed forward, looking at the profiles of the people who argued before them. Like a playground squabble, that's how she would describe it.

She hated it here. These meetings were nothing but people arguing, shouting and fighting amongst themselves. Nothing was ever achieved, everyone was too stubborn to budge from their ideals. No one wanted to work together.

No one except for Father, the only man who attempted to state the growing anger with neutral words and calm tones.

Down here it was politics. There was little for her to contribute. No bones to break or faces to rearrange. She wondered why she ever fussed to be a part of them. She was not needed. Redundant.

Then it came, just as she thought it would, a challenge issued to the Pharaoh.

There wasn't a quiver of movement from him as he received the challenge, no change in the air that she detected. If it was a power play to not react, he was doing a splendid job. Then came a slight vibration that tingled in her feet, as the Pharaoh subtly shifted to the edge.

The Pharaoh had told her everything about the shadow games, the duelling monsters, the shadow realm. For him to trust her with all of this, she had never felt closer to someone.

She had only been present at a handful of meetings, and this was the first time she heard a challenge. As the Champion, would she be expected to duel in his place?

Her throat bobbed. It was an effort to keep her chest at a steady rise and fall, as she thought about the endless suffering that awaited in the shadow realm.

She had a good idea of duelling now, yes. But could she face off against someone like Bakura? Or a follower hellbent on making his ideals a reality? An unfamiliar feeling of dread crept over and she took a shuddered breath.

Just then, a man pushed himself through the mumbling crowd.

Her mouth fell open as her father stood with his head held high.

"As the Pharaoh's loyal servant. I will duel in his stead."

 "I see." The challenger spoke. "Having one of your mindless servants duel in your place? How noble of you, Pharaoh."

Zahra felt her knees tremble as her father made his way to the duelling pit.

 "Don't let them see your weakness," the Pharaoh quietly said so only she could hear it.

From the way the Pharaoh gipped the armrest of his throne, turning his caramel fingertips pale, it was clear he was just as much on the edge as she.

Zahra dipped her head and fought the urge to bury her face in her hands or intervene. Just one distraction was all she needed to get to the duel pit and snap his neck. Let's see him duel after that, her thoughts burnt with malice.

Now she truly understood what the Pharaoh had said before, that in these times, fights are not fought with mere fists alone. A distraction would be enough, but after that, what then? Chaos? Carnage? A stampede that would likely claim any number of lives as they ran for safety. As they ran from her.

Here, there was magic. Here, the untold darkness was boundless. A darkness with no physical body, that would dissipate around her flips and kicks. At this moment, as she watched her father ready himself and take the first turn. She had never felt so defenceless.

There was an exchange of stone tablets and moves that made her braid blow off her neck. Monsters were summoned. Magic was used, and traps were laid.

Zahra had never seen this side of her father before. The way he fought for his Pharaoh. She felt proud to show the same fire and loyalty, as the Champion and as his daughter. He had the upper hand, and nothing could stop him.

Suddenly the duel had taken a turn. Her father's attack had been countered, and now the challenger summoned his most powerful monster.

 At the sight of the demon that was summoned, she heard the Pharaoh mumble in fear.

Zahra broke, suddenly twitching ever-so-slightly.

Something was holding her back. When she confided in her father what the Pharaoh had told her about the games, he admitted he had never wanted her to know about them. He knew her short fuse and the fierce loyalty she had shown for the Pharaoh would make her act rash. Her loyalty to him was something else entirely

He was right… she hated that he was right.

In the beginning, she didn't want to be his Champion. When his desperate words, that he wouldn't be on this Earth forever and wanted to make sure she would be looked after and protected, fell on deaf ears, he played on her love of the thrill of the fight to get her to agree.

She had been wrong about the Pharaoh. He wasn't the tyrant some thought him to be, all about power and not about the people. Yes, her loyalty was fierce, but so was her love for her father.

 "Compose yourself, my Champion," he whispered through gritted teeth.

Compose myself? Are you mad?! She said nothing, her jaw was clenched and her stomach knotted as she waited for the next move.

Her father would not survive another attack. He would be sent to the shadow realm. Why wasn't the Pharaoh stepping in? Surely, he wouldn't let her father be sent to the shadow realm? No… he wouldn't, Tadal was his most trusted advisor and his father's friend.

He couldn't.

The challenger commanded the demon to attack. The Pharaoh still did nothing.

Zahra let out a soft cry as she watched the demon's attack land, her father fell to a knee and his life points depleted to nothing.

She waited for a trap, for a magic card. Anything that would negate the attack!

In the naked light, she saw a crowd of people and as the shadow realm emerged to claim its victim, the room seemed to shrink to just her and her father.

Zahra's feet were poised to launch.

 "Zahra! Stay back", the Pharaoh commanded, jumping to his feet and swinging out an arm to block her.

Zahra nearly slashed at the Pharaoh. She was consumed by fear and hesitation. The black, purple smog began to encase him.

She wanted to move. She wanted to run to her father, but her feet were rooted to the spot. Had the Pharaoh somehow imprisoned her?

No, this was fear, the same fear she felt when her mother left. You're stronger than this! She continued to tremble as she willed her body to move.

She didn't move, and the darkness began to envelop him.

No! she screamed in her mind, her mouth wide with horror. Tears stung at her eyes.

As the smog crept over his body, he turned his head to her, fighting a growing snarl on his face from the torturous pain, he managed a small smile as he beheld his only child, giving her a soft nod.

 "Zahra", his voice was barely audible and strained as it echoed through her mind.

She could do nothing but watch as her father's face disappeared in the dense smog. Her eyes rippled with pain. Her knees collapsed and her body went limp. All she could manage was a constant, pathetic shake of her head as the smog evaporated, and left nothing of the man that had loved and cared for her.

Her pain boiled to anger. She was furious.

A feeling of power and sheer determination bubbled from her feet and up her body. She had never felt anything like it. Her heartbeat pounded in her mind, having only slightly slowed from the deadly stillness she had entered.

She turned to the Pharaoh, his face was frozen.

Sensing her gaze, he looked at her. She poured all her hatred into that look, all her pent-up frustrations, grief, desperation and fury.

There were sounds of celebration from the challengers.

Zahra felt a red mist descend. How dare they celebrate her father's death.

As if sensing it, the Pharaoh grabbed her arm and yanked her outside of the council room. She was so busy feeling this new intensity rise that she let him.

 When the din of the room disappeared, he let go.

"Control your emotions." He commanded.

Her jaw dropped. "Did you not see what happened? Did you not watch as my father was taken?"

The Pharaoh looked away, guilt clouding his features.

"So you don't care is that it? After all the years he spent with your father, and then with you!" Her voice raised as her mind raced with all the times she had defied him. All the times she had rejected him. It was his idea that she compete to be the Champion. Perhaps if she was a better daughter he wouldn't have buried himself in his work, in the Pharaoh. He would have been home with his family, where he belonged.

A sudden realisation hit her.

"This is your fault," she spoke with a gentle sob. "if it weren't for you, he would have been with me, we would have been in our home. We would have been poor, but we would have been together. All of us."

When her mother died… She crumpled her eyes at the thought. If she had only been more like her. But she wasn't her mother. And she wasn't her father. No, she was nothing like them, and could never hope to be.

"Pharaoh," there was so much venom in that word, "you can have the sound of a thousand voices calling your name. With the light of heaven itself, bathing you in grace. But I see nothing. What you hold in your hands is nothing, and in the end, palaces crumble, and kingdoms fall, leaving them as nothing… but sand."

She was only a weapon. A filthy weapon tarnished by blood and undeserving of love, from anyone. Just a trophy to stand by the Pharaoh, strike fear into his enemies and watch unmoving and unflinching as innocent people were banished to a hell she couldn't even begin to comprehend.

"Zahra, I'm sor-"

"I hate you," she snapped, a burning fury igniting in her eyes.

Turning on her heel, she stormed away like a prowling reaper. Her anger was infinite. Her body was its vessel.

Someone will pay. And they will pay dearly.