Alrighty! Time to start on a new angst fic! White Angel here. You'll
remember me as the author of "Mutilation", and I'm here again for another
Bakura fic! ^_^ More switching POV, but not as much as last time, so I will
put the POV when it changes.
PG-13 for violence and such. Takes place for the most part in Ancient Egypt. There are a few religious references in here, put it is not meant to be a religious fic. And there is little historical information available for this time period, but I did research some. I don't mind being corrected, but don't get mad if I mess up a bit, OK???
Ryou's nights have been plagued by dreams of Ancient Egypt. Now, Yami Bakura recalls his past, how he got the ring, how he knew Yami Yugi, and how he became a thief.
..................................
Ryou
I was in the desert, not knowing why. I had to run, or they would catch me. If they caught me, they would kill me. Who were "they?" I didn't know this either. All I knew was the fear. My heart was pounding in my chest as if it were trying to escape. The sand burned my bare feet as I ran, kicking it up. I didn't know where I was going or where I was running from, but I had to keep going. My life depended on it.
I woke with a start, sitting up fast and drenched in a cold sweat. I was breathing heavily. It was on of those dreams again.That was the third night in a row that I had them. In one, I had been struggling as someone much larger than myself held me. In another, I watched shady figures move about in a room lit only by torches, and, for some reason, I was afraid. I didn't know what theses dreams meant, but I was betting that they had something to do with my alter ego, Yami Bakura, the spirit that possessed me. But I wasn't about to question him. He had a nasty temper and low tolerance.
I could not help but wonder what the dreams were. Was this some of Yami Bakura memories leaking through? Maybe they were my own memories from when I was him in my past life. It could be several things.Only Yami Bakura would know.
............................
Yami Bakura
For some time now, Ryou's nights have been filled with dreams of my past. Why these dreams were coming out, I didn't know for sure. Perhaps it was just a side effect of the link the millennium ring created between us. I could tell Ryou wanted to know what they were about, but was afraid to ask. That was good. I did not feel like discussing it with him.
Perhaps the reason that I was so hesitant to share my memories with Ryou is because I did not want him to know how like him I once was. I, too, was once innocent and trusting. Living as I did, though, it is understandable why I changed. Such experiences can do that to you. And the dark influence of a millennium item didn't help. But I am getting ahead of myself. Perhaps I should start at the beginning.
...............................
Yami Bakura's story
I was born a slave. Both of my parents were Hebrew slaves of the lowest kind. They were not servants to royalty or nobles or even merchants. They were slaves used as labor for the tombs. My mother risked death by not reporting to toil in the desert heat when she had to give birth to me. My father had to do both his work and hers so as not to attract notice.
My parents were, needless to say, shocked at my appearance when they saw me. Being born pale and with tuffs white hair is unusual anywhere, but it is especially strange in a desert where everyone is dark haired with dark complexions. My parents took this as a sign from God. They believed that I was to be a religious leader and that I was the answer to the prayers of the Hebrew slaves. These expectations were destined to lead to disappointment. Even at my best, I never felt like the holy leader type. Never the less, my parents named me Adam, because they felt I was the first ray of hope for the Jews, just as Adam was the first ray of hope for mankind. He was a disappointment, too, if I remember right. It's been a while since I thought about my old faith.
My parents feared that I would be discovered by the Egyptians and seen as a threat. The Egyptians took their omens seriously. When I did have to be in the presence of Egyptians, soot was rubbed into my hair to make it seem darker. Mud and dirt was rubbed on my skin to make it seem not so pale, or at least make me too dirty to be able to tell. My earliest memories were of putting on this ridiculous disguise and hiding when it was not on. What a childhood. I had more than enough misery to last a lifetime in my first years of life.
I was six when it happened. My father was trying to teach me the ways of my religion and so prepare me for the life that they had planned, when we heard shouting in the streets near our shabby home. My mother and father went to see what the commotion was about. I was told to stay put, as I wasn't in disguise. But I did not listen. I was curious and wanted to see what was going on. It sounded exciting. I had spent so many of my young days laboring away. I wanted to see something fun.
I hung back in the shadows so that I would not be seen. The crowd had formed around a caravan. The Pharaoh was returning from one of his journeys. Egyptians crowded around, cheering the great and powerful leader. The Jews who had come to see the excitement hung in back. They were not allowed to join in the festivities. Unfortunately, I was a bit too ignorant of the risks involved in getting closer. I approached the crowd, leaving the safety of the shadows. In the bright sun, my hair glinted in the light and I was easily noticed. Especially from the Pharaoh's vantage point. I was spotted right away. The Egyptian king stopped his caravan and looked strangely at me. I froze. The Pharaoh's eyes locked on mine as I stared back at him. Around his neck was length of fine rope, and hanging from it was a golden ring. Everything was silent as the king and I eyed each other. Then he spoke up.
"Judging by the rags you wear," he said, addressing me, "I would say that you are a slave boy who dares to look the king in the eye." Every face turned to me. Several recognized me and stared in awe at my true appearance. I saw my mother and father look in horror as they saw the king's attention on me. I dared not answer him, and instead bowed my head, trying to make myself seem smaller and more humble. But it was too late. His attention was on me, and no slave wants the attention of an Egyptian, let alone the king, on them. My parents rushed towards me. The Pharaoh saw their movement. "STOP, SLAVES!" he bellowed.
"B-but great one," my father stammered, "He is but a boy. I must return him to our humble home."
"What you must do, is be silent." he said dangerously. "My son is in need of a servant. And I think I have found that servant." His gaze returned to me. My eyes widened when the realization hit me.
"No!" my mother screamed and ran towards me, my father chasing after her and yelling for her to stop. The Pharaoh lost all his patience.
"Silence them!" he yelled to his guards, who rushed towards my parents. "And seize the boy!" Upon myself mentioned, I instinctly ran to my parents, not knowing that they could provide me no protection, for already the palace guards were on them. They fought like mad, trying to reach me. I tried to help them. I attempted to pull one of the guards off of my mother, but I was not very successful. I saw a guard take out a dagger and the reality of the situation truly dawned on me. My parents were going to be killed because they were trying to protect me. I became hysterical as a guard picked me up and threw me over his shoulder to be brought to Pharaoh. I was kicking and screaming with all my might as the dagger was lifted over my father. The only fortunate thing was that I never saw it fall, for the man holding me grew tired of my struggling and knocked me on the back of the head of with the hilt of his own dagger. I was out cold and didn't see the fate of my parents.
............................... Don't forget to R&R! I need to know if I should continue this one.
PG-13 for violence and such. Takes place for the most part in Ancient Egypt. There are a few religious references in here, put it is not meant to be a religious fic. And there is little historical information available for this time period, but I did research some. I don't mind being corrected, but don't get mad if I mess up a bit, OK???
Ryou's nights have been plagued by dreams of Ancient Egypt. Now, Yami Bakura recalls his past, how he got the ring, how he knew Yami Yugi, and how he became a thief.
..................................
Ryou
I was in the desert, not knowing why. I had to run, or they would catch me. If they caught me, they would kill me. Who were "they?" I didn't know this either. All I knew was the fear. My heart was pounding in my chest as if it were trying to escape. The sand burned my bare feet as I ran, kicking it up. I didn't know where I was going or where I was running from, but I had to keep going. My life depended on it.
I woke with a start, sitting up fast and drenched in a cold sweat. I was breathing heavily. It was on of those dreams again.That was the third night in a row that I had them. In one, I had been struggling as someone much larger than myself held me. In another, I watched shady figures move about in a room lit only by torches, and, for some reason, I was afraid. I didn't know what theses dreams meant, but I was betting that they had something to do with my alter ego, Yami Bakura, the spirit that possessed me. But I wasn't about to question him. He had a nasty temper and low tolerance.
I could not help but wonder what the dreams were. Was this some of Yami Bakura memories leaking through? Maybe they were my own memories from when I was him in my past life. It could be several things.Only Yami Bakura would know.
............................
Yami Bakura
For some time now, Ryou's nights have been filled with dreams of my past. Why these dreams were coming out, I didn't know for sure. Perhaps it was just a side effect of the link the millennium ring created between us. I could tell Ryou wanted to know what they were about, but was afraid to ask. That was good. I did not feel like discussing it with him.
Perhaps the reason that I was so hesitant to share my memories with Ryou is because I did not want him to know how like him I once was. I, too, was once innocent and trusting. Living as I did, though, it is understandable why I changed. Such experiences can do that to you. And the dark influence of a millennium item didn't help. But I am getting ahead of myself. Perhaps I should start at the beginning.
...............................
Yami Bakura's story
I was born a slave. Both of my parents were Hebrew slaves of the lowest kind. They were not servants to royalty or nobles or even merchants. They were slaves used as labor for the tombs. My mother risked death by not reporting to toil in the desert heat when she had to give birth to me. My father had to do both his work and hers so as not to attract notice.
My parents were, needless to say, shocked at my appearance when they saw me. Being born pale and with tuffs white hair is unusual anywhere, but it is especially strange in a desert where everyone is dark haired with dark complexions. My parents took this as a sign from God. They believed that I was to be a religious leader and that I was the answer to the prayers of the Hebrew slaves. These expectations were destined to lead to disappointment. Even at my best, I never felt like the holy leader type. Never the less, my parents named me Adam, because they felt I was the first ray of hope for the Jews, just as Adam was the first ray of hope for mankind. He was a disappointment, too, if I remember right. It's been a while since I thought about my old faith.
My parents feared that I would be discovered by the Egyptians and seen as a threat. The Egyptians took their omens seriously. When I did have to be in the presence of Egyptians, soot was rubbed into my hair to make it seem darker. Mud and dirt was rubbed on my skin to make it seem not so pale, or at least make me too dirty to be able to tell. My earliest memories were of putting on this ridiculous disguise and hiding when it was not on. What a childhood. I had more than enough misery to last a lifetime in my first years of life.
I was six when it happened. My father was trying to teach me the ways of my religion and so prepare me for the life that they had planned, when we heard shouting in the streets near our shabby home. My mother and father went to see what the commotion was about. I was told to stay put, as I wasn't in disguise. But I did not listen. I was curious and wanted to see what was going on. It sounded exciting. I had spent so many of my young days laboring away. I wanted to see something fun.
I hung back in the shadows so that I would not be seen. The crowd had formed around a caravan. The Pharaoh was returning from one of his journeys. Egyptians crowded around, cheering the great and powerful leader. The Jews who had come to see the excitement hung in back. They were not allowed to join in the festivities. Unfortunately, I was a bit too ignorant of the risks involved in getting closer. I approached the crowd, leaving the safety of the shadows. In the bright sun, my hair glinted in the light and I was easily noticed. Especially from the Pharaoh's vantage point. I was spotted right away. The Egyptian king stopped his caravan and looked strangely at me. I froze. The Pharaoh's eyes locked on mine as I stared back at him. Around his neck was length of fine rope, and hanging from it was a golden ring. Everything was silent as the king and I eyed each other. Then he spoke up.
"Judging by the rags you wear," he said, addressing me, "I would say that you are a slave boy who dares to look the king in the eye." Every face turned to me. Several recognized me and stared in awe at my true appearance. I saw my mother and father look in horror as they saw the king's attention on me. I dared not answer him, and instead bowed my head, trying to make myself seem smaller and more humble. But it was too late. His attention was on me, and no slave wants the attention of an Egyptian, let alone the king, on them. My parents rushed towards me. The Pharaoh saw their movement. "STOP, SLAVES!" he bellowed.
"B-but great one," my father stammered, "He is but a boy. I must return him to our humble home."
"What you must do, is be silent." he said dangerously. "My son is in need of a servant. And I think I have found that servant." His gaze returned to me. My eyes widened when the realization hit me.
"No!" my mother screamed and ran towards me, my father chasing after her and yelling for her to stop. The Pharaoh lost all his patience.
"Silence them!" he yelled to his guards, who rushed towards my parents. "And seize the boy!" Upon myself mentioned, I instinctly ran to my parents, not knowing that they could provide me no protection, for already the palace guards were on them. They fought like mad, trying to reach me. I tried to help them. I attempted to pull one of the guards off of my mother, but I was not very successful. I saw a guard take out a dagger and the reality of the situation truly dawned on me. My parents were going to be killed because they were trying to protect me. I became hysterical as a guard picked me up and threw me over his shoulder to be brought to Pharaoh. I was kicking and screaming with all my might as the dagger was lifted over my father. The only fortunate thing was that I never saw it fall, for the man holding me grew tired of my struggling and knocked me on the back of the head of with the hilt of his own dagger. I was out cold and didn't see the fate of my parents.
............................... Don't forget to R&R! I need to know if I should continue this one.