Mah first story to celebrate my first time here on fan fiction eh~ And what should id be about? Well none other than the pairing in warning! ~Theifshipping~ And you know, a little review will help~ It makes one H~A~P~P~Y~ X3

Warnings-Swears, curses, bad words, any other word you want to use? Murder, slavery... this list will probably build with this story... Also, Marik will be referred to as Malik,

...

and Malik's crazy side is now his elder brother, who is called Mariku.

Disclaimer- Not mine... but how I wish it so... 0.O

Prologue-

Sounds of clinking chains and groans were heard throughout the whole desert, scorching hot sand singing the feat of many as they were forced on this trek. The cracking of whips lovingly joined the sounds of some falling to the ground of exhaustion, soon forced on the feet by the pain on they're back. Some not even caring for that as they let the sinfully sweet darkness envelope them. Some would fake death just so they would be left out there to rot, but as soon as that was discovered by the guards, any so called 'dead person' would be getting their head chopped off, then left out to decay. The guards would laugh cruelly as they heard the deafening crack of the black item they so enjoyed using. The guards would point and laugh. As the slaves they were appointed to bring to lord Mariku would beg for death half the time, and be rewarded with life. They were about as nice as the sharp point of a blade.

Though, out of all the slaves groans, moans of pain, and cries, was one particularly seething one, his long ivory hair dirtied by the sand and muck of the chains that so painfully rendered his neck, hands, and feet to nothing, leaving him with only the ability to talk and walk. Though, most would choose not to use their voice in the presence of they're masters, or guards, as that was awarded with the sound of ones tongue falling to the ground. His faced poured with sweat that dropped from darkly tanned skin to the ground with a soft plunk. Making some of the slaves groan, as they were reminded at one thing they were given rarely, water. The male slave's red eyes glared critically at the other ones like him. All were chained, water deprived, and on the verge of starvation. Though the only thing that distinguished him from the others was his lack of begging, crying, and other things that would signal distress. And lets say the guards weren't to happy as he was the target for they're stress relief on this week long journey. His back was already scared in various spots from only three days travel, and yet still he refused to give the guards what they wanted.

His face would rarely show pain, as he'd tell himself he would soon escape, regain his old title as the thief king, and slaughter the group of fucking thieves in his guild that betrayed him to gain title as the thief king. His body bristled in rage at the memory of being chained and muffled by the new thieves he had let in, and now he knows that was a grave mistake on his part. He should have known they were to betray him as he had noticed something funny about them the moment they passed the test to get in. The five of them had over powered him. Him. The man that was known for his strength, agility, and cleverness to sneak into any palace and take what he wanted, even from the pharaoh's own hands as he slept in his grand room. But now he was reduced to that of a slave, a mere grain of sand in the almighty desert palace. Almost everyone could feel his aura darken, he was seething at everything that had happened to him over the past week, that even the weakest of magical power could feel his heavy, threatening spirit. He would have his revenge.

Mean while, at the place where the slave was to be heading, was a young man in same means of distress, but instead of loathing where he was, the man looked quite emotionless. He was in a small room. The room consisted of two small bunk beds, a hole in the corner when one needed to go, and a small bucket of water for a drink. The man was in the middle of the room, sitting in the fetal position while pulling at his light blonde hair, which contrasted his dark tanned skin. While, his roommate on the bed was quite different, his hair was white and his skin was fair, and he was an awfully lot young than the tanned boy with him. He was seen as a rare gem in the eyes of they're master, Mariku. Which was why they had water in the room, and a bed at the very least. The pale boy on the bed looked distressed, his eyes puffy and red from a long period of crying, his snow white hair tangled and dirty. Whimpers would come every so often from him, which would earn a small glance from the man on the floor. He too, had his hair messy, but his eyes had shown no emotion, as if he had given up on them a long time ago.

Footsteps were heard from outside the locked in small room, voices were heard. Though out of the voices, one stood out, it was deep, and sounded like one of a predator, poised and ready to strike. The albino boy to jumped with sudden realization of the presence and cowered into the comfort of his covers, while the boy on the floor gave but a small flinch, and in his dull gaze showed a small flicker of resentment, but it was gone as quickly as it had been. Soon the door opened to reveal a man in a proud posture, his arms crossed, his dark violet eyes scanning the room, stopping short on the boy on the floor. He walked over to him, his spiked light blonde hair swaying slightly. He took a knee down and forced the man to look up at him. The man didn't resist, years of torture and slavery taught him never to fight back. His once spunky attitude torn to a perfect slave, a slave that would not question, only do. Mariku saw him as a perfect example of how every slaves will could be broken, though he knew it would be easy to break the will of his own little brother, as he had an emotional connection with him. Sadly, the elder of the two didn't quite share the bond the younger thought they had. Mariku began to speak in a calm, but dominant tone.

"Well little brother, how does it feel to have a roommate again? I even rewarded you with my precious little Ryou." His voice dripped with sarcasm and his face held a sadistic smirk. The man's violet colored eye stared into that of his elder brothers, still as dull as ever. The younger boy didn't even stop to think, as if his answer was programmed into him.

"It is enjoyable Lord Mariku. Ryou is very nice." His voice was solid, empty. Which seemed to please his elder brother, but not enough; as it had earned him a minor punishment of a meager beating. Mariku approached, as though with casual intent, the smile drawn upon his lips from the man's reply soured with frustration. He refused still to beg. The man was on the floor when Mariku was done, the enslaved man's arms embraced around his belly, bruised face hidden away in protection. Mariku spat on the ground in front of his brother and walked towards the boy huddled in a ball, tearing the blanket from Ryou, which revealed a mess of a boy lost of hope. Ryou shook in great trembles, his eyes incapable to meet the demon's that watched him. This amused him, his expression growing more sadistic and his eyes carrying an insane look in them.

"Ryou," He cooed, "Why, oh why, don't you look at me? Is Malik being mean to you? Should I hurt him to make you feel better?" Ryou stirred, and his eyes trembled as his expression troubled. He shook his head quickly, hoping to stop the oncoming beating that would soon ensue his only connection to any social interaction. Mariku only smiled with psychotic laughter and walked back to Malik. Looming over the weaker man, glancing back to the boy, "I'll make things okay, Ryou, just let me handle it.." he cut but to the man just recovering from the previous beating. He prodded the man with his foot to get a glimpse of his face, it was void of expression. Mariku grew angrier. He pulled out a knife and allowed Malik to roll back onto his stomach. "I wish you would tell me what bothers you, brother, it hurts me that you won't.." Leaning down, he poised the knife over his back, the tip of the blade drawn carefully. "It hurts me, brother." The freshly sharpened blade broke the skin with little pressure, drawn in a solid agonizing line. Malik made only a mumbled grunt of pain. He still refused to give his brother what he asked. Ryou had hid under the blanket and scrunched his eyes shut, his hands covering his ears in attempt to block out what was happening.

Mariku finished his torture and left, telling the guards to put some medical bandages on the wounds, knowing Ryou would not resist helping his only friend. Ryou heard a soft noise, the falling of a roll of bandages, and the closing of a door. He threw the blanket off himself and jumped off the bed, running over to Malik to make sure he was okay. A horrified look shaped its way onto Ryou's face, his mahagony eyes running over the crippled shape of Malik. His back was carved yet with a number more scars and blood was leaking in thick globs down his sides. Ryou ran over to the bandages and began to clean his cuts out with a rag and the water in the bucket. Malik flinched at the touch of cold water running over fresh cuts.

"Be still Malik..." Ryou said softly, his voice bouncing off the walls of the old room. His eyes began to water and his tears began to drip onto Malik's cuts. Ryou shook the tears away and began to finish cleaning the cuts out. "I-I'm sorry... this is all my fault... I still can't answer him, and every time I don't - you get hurt..." Ryou's voice sounded exhausted and cracked. Malik got up when he heard his voice, ignoring the immense pain that followed. He looked at Ryou with numb violet eyes. Ryou looked down, not wanting to look into the arid gaze that bore into him. Ryou jumped slightly when he felt a hand ruffle his hair.

"Its okay, we'll get out of here, you'll see." His voice was flat, but still gave Ryou comfort. Yes, one day, I just have to hope... however hard it is to do so in this place. Ryou thought, trying put a hopeful look on his face, failing miserably. Malik let Ryou finish bandaging his back, his thoughts wondering to how he ever got stuck a slave to his own brother. He stood up briskly right when Ryou finished, help the young boy up. Ryou stumbled as he was pulled up, almost falling down again. Malik caught him and helped him over to the bed, tucking him in. Hoping to comfort him in the smallest way. It helped as he saw Ryou drift off to sleep. Malik looked over to the small window that was well over their heads, so they couldn't climb out. It was in the perfect spot to show the moon, full and bright. He gave a small smirk, a surprising notion for one who has gone through years of abuse. His body may have been broken, but not his hopes. There was still a chance of escape - right?

Well? What did ya think? Good, bad, great, terrible, fantastic, puke worthy? Tell me all of your thoughts with that absolutely GORGEUS review button~