So I decided to challenge myself: choose an unlikely pairing and make it at least semi-believable. I decided on corruptshipping, because that seems pretty far-fetched as a realistic pairing. Although, I will admit, between corruptshipping and euroshipping, I find corruptshipping more likely... ^^; Oh yeah; it you don't like yaoi/shonen air, then don't be reading this.
Anyways, I made a very big (intentional) historical mistake in this fanfic, but I think it's excusable in this one instance... Bonus points if anyone can figure it out.
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Seth wanted to kill him.
He sat in the center of the hall on a backed chair and watched the thief pace up and down the length of the wall, occasionally glancing up at the sacred inscriptions. It had been three days, and Seth wanted to kill him.
Someone as sinful, as corrupt as the thief king should not be granted the same rights as law abiding citizens. For the thief to have darted into the abandoned temple once he realized that he couldn't outrun Seth on horseback, cornering himself and then claiming sanctuary-! Seth shifted, annoyed, gritting his teeth at the memory. Per-a'a had upheld tradition, stating that under sanctuary no one could harm the thief while he was on the temple grounds. Seth, since he was the one who was pursuing the thief when he claimed sanctuary, was chosen to guard him, essentially. Privately, Per-a'a confessed that he didn't like the situation either, but really, how long was the thief going to stay in the temple? He would try fleeing soon enough, and then the soldiers encircling the grounds would catch him.
The thief wandered up and down the hall, his footsteps visible but silent. Seth couldn't tell if he was restless or just full of pent up energy. He hoped it was restlessness.
"Tell me, Priest," the thief said, the first words he had spoken since his incarceration and Seth jumped a little. The walls eagerly caught his voice and threw it back, echoing eerily. "Why have you been trapped in this place as well?" He continued to pace, staring at the painted scenes on the walls.
Seth was partially surprised at the imitated court speech. He almost didn't answer, but the thief was, if anything, strong and Seth respected strength. "I am not trapped here," he responded neutrally.
"You enjoy my company?" Even from where he sat Seth could see the corners of the thief's mouth curl up in a smirk.
He snorted. "Hardly."
Up and down the length of the room the thief paced. The first two days he had explored the temple, every room and passage way, the whole grounds, sacred pools full of now foul water and slightly wild gardens, always stepping just outside the reach of the waiting guards, while Seth had to follow, as if an obedient puppy. Now he just paced, back and forth, occasionally switching walls. He was oddly fascinating to look at. Fierce and feared, walking back and forth in the hall made him seem surprisingly human. His wild raging anger had vanished behind this bizarrely quiet composure as he studied his holy prison. His mystery was lessened, the ghostliness dampened by this close exposure. And yet Seth still found himself entranced by the thief, knowing that he was still just as deadly, that his feigned docile attitude was the product of some unknown motivation.
Night began to fall, the light in the hall becoming dimmer as the minutes stretched by. The thief's form began to blur into the shadows and Seth decided that he needed light. The first night he had found an old incense burner and had converted it to a low standing lamp; it shed a modest circle of brightness. Despite having his weapons confiscated and his magic sealed, the thief was still dangerous and Seth preferred to be able to see his prisoner. That required him to be within the area of illumination provided.
"Thief, get over here," he barked, irritated. The silence of the hall stood unbroken after his call faded. Seth sat, ill at ease, not entirely sure where the tomb robber was as the shadows deepened in the dying sunlight.
"So afraid of the darkness, Priest?" a voice questioned softly in his ear. Seth jumped, startled, but strong hands on his shoulders kept him from getting to his feet.
"Don't touch me," he snapped, trying to shrug off the thief, trying to calm his heart.
The tomb robber's reply was to slip his hands farther down Seth's chest, one hand coming to rest on his stomach and the other lingering uncomfortably close to his neck. Seth squirmed slightly, his breathing suddenly shallow.
"How long will you be trapped here, cooped up like some exotic pet?" the thief murmured, his hot breath washing over Seth's neck. He couldn't help it; he shivered. He could practically feel the thief smile.
"I said get off," Seth snapped, grabbing the thief's wrists. Before he could think the tomb robber had his wrists, twisting them painfully behind the chair and securing them with a rough length of rope. Struggling, he growled a curse as the ties refused to loosen.
Light laughter as the thief slowly walked around the chair, the empty hall echoing him hauntingly. Seth was silent, glaring. The thief stopped and surveyed the priest, eyes slowly traveling up and down his body, considering.
"I could do terrible things to you, my pretty pithy priest," he mused, his ruby eyes glittering in the light. The way the shadows fell across his face, highlighting his scar and jagged grin, he appeared almost demonic. Seth refused to feel fear, although it clawed at the back of his mind, eager for a seldom chance at freedom.
The thief apparently took the silence as permission, because he stepped closer to Seth and trailed a gentle finger down his cheek, across his lips. The gesture made his skin burn and tingle; Seth swallowed thickly, a blush creeping up. He tried to look away but the thief made a scolding noise, catching his chin and tilting his face back.
"Get your hands off me, thief," Seth spat, but the demand's harsh tone didn't quite reach his eyes. It worried him in a way he didn't understand.
"My name isn't 'Thief'," his captor mock-pouted. He leaned in, whispering. "It's Bakura."
Seth suddenly found it very hard to concentrate as Bakura ducked his head and kiss along his neck, softly but deeply, and Seth gasped at a gentle nip. The thief's laughter rumbled quietly.
"What are you doing?" Seth said breathlessly as Bakura continued his ministrations. He was having a difficult time forming a coherent thought; he felt rather lucky to have gotten that out.
"I believe you know perfectly well what I am doing," Bakura said in a low voice, as he settled himself comfortably onto Seth's lap. The priest shifted slightly in protest of the added weight, but any budding complaint was silenced when Bakura kissed him.
The contact drove all thought from Seth's mind, although a part of him realized why he had felt concern earlier. He was a second late in turning away, and Bakura forced his face forward again, hand clamped firmly around his jaw. A steady building pressure there made his lips part slightly, and Bakura's tongue slipped in quickly against a small muffled sound of protest. Bakura kissed with a strange tenderness Seth hadn't thought possible for him to possess, searching for something. Without thinking, his body aching in ways he didn't understand and wasn't sure he wanted to understand, Seth kissed back. The searing fire burned him from the inside out and he kissed deeper, craving more. Bakura complied, instinctually knowing, reaching his hand down and caused Seth to gasp in alarm, eyes fluttering open briefly before Bakura's fierce kiss forced them closed again. He somehow managed to get his hand under Seth's robe, tracing teasing patterns along his thigh, while the other tangled up in Seth's chestnut hair, and Seth kiss eagerly, his body demanding, needing sharply.
Then Bakura broke off the kiss and slid off the priest's lap, leaving Seth panting. "Not yet," he said.
"What?" The question tore its way past his bruised lips before he could stop it. He regretted it immediately, flushing scarlet at the thief's smug look.
"Not yet," he repeated, smiling. He slowly backed away into the darkness.
Seth stared dumbly for a moment at the spot where the thief had been. "Damn you, you bastard! Untie me!" he shouted, coming to his senses, burning in embarrassment.
He worked the rope loose a few minutes later, which he threw away in disgust. When he laid down for sleep, he tossed and turned for hours, remembering Bakura's hands on his body, guiltily recalling the sensations, prayers for forgiveness twining their way into his thoughts. Finally he fell into a troubled slumber.
--
The next day it was as if the night before had never happened. Seth stole glances at Bakura, who seemed unchanged from yesterday, still pacing the walls of his prison with even measured steps. Because the soldiers and servants were scared and because Bakura was a known killer, he was restricted to a corner of the hall when meals were brought in, guarded by four spear-wielding soldiers. He stood there quietly every time, making no sudden movements or attempting to arm himself. Then the servants would leave and the guards would follow, backing away from Bakura as if he would strike any moment.
They sat in the center of the hall, where the food had been placed, Seth's plate on a low table and Bakura's on the floor. The quality of the meal was expectedly different: the thief had bread and chickpeas; and the priest had beef, fish, turnips, grapes, and figs. Bakura had water, and Seth would've had wine had he not requested water. Not a good idea to risk a blurry mind around the thief.
Despite the mimicked court speech, Bakura's manners were atrocious. Seth ate leisurely, watching the thief with a sick curiosity. He wolfed down his food as if someone would take it from him otherwise, and when he was finished he stared at Seth while he ate. On a whim, Seth flicked some fish at the thief, like he'd seen Per-a'a do with the hounds at the palace. Predictably, Bakura caught and ate it, still staring.
Seth laughed shortly. "Like a dog," he scoffed.
"Rather a dog than a trained monkey," Bakura quipped, eyes following a piece of beef to Seth's mouth.
The priest stopped. "Excuse me?"
"You're rather well trained," Bakura said, matter-of-fact. "I commend your handler; he did a good job. You listen to commands with little thought, focused only on the rewards to follow."
"How dare you?" Seth hissed, putting down his food. "And you're better? You have no master, a mutt with no home. You live your life in sin, destroying your next life with every careless offense you commit."
"I am my own master, I bow to no one," Bakura responded, proud. "I take my rewards as I please, rather than wait like a cur for the blessings of a man who appreciates your service enough to grant you an apparent honor, which is really a cleverly disguised ploy to keep you from the palace. Out of sight, out of mind."
Seth lunged, knocking the table aside as he tackled Bakura to the ground. "You know nothing!" he shouted, pinning the thief to the floor, hands on his wrists. Bakura laughed. When Seth punched him, Bakura laughed harder, a hysterical tinge coloring the sound as a trickle of blood dribbled out of his mouth.
"Careful now, Priest! Wouldn't want to upset your master," he gasped in between breaths, grinning like physical injury was the funniest thing. Seth was struck with the impression that he was dealing with someone either very smart or very mad, perhaps both. He grabbed the thief's red robe, pulling him partially off the stone floor only to slam him back down.
"Be silent!" he yelled, shaking the lunatic. Gradually Bakura's possessed laughter quieted, with only the occasional snicker escaping. Seth let go of his robe and held his wrists down, glaring. Finally, Bakura took a deep breath and looked up at him.
"So, now what, Priest?" he asked, still arrogant.
Seth gritted his teeth, keeping even pressure on his pinned opponent, knees on either side of the thief's hips. What now indeed. He was furious at the tomb robber, but even angrier at himself for succumbing to his taunts. He was above the opinions of peasants, particularly criminals. But Bakura looked so smug, so confident, as if he had the upper hand when clearly he didn't. He wanted to wipe that cocky smirk right off his face.
So Seth leaned down and kissed him. Bakura made a noise of quiet surprise, then kissed back hungrily. Seth allowed himself to sink down on top of the thief, hands tugging at the red robe to expose shoulders, tracing the collarbones and tender neck. Bakura's hand roamed where they would, holding Seth to him, pulling impatiently at the priest's robe. Then Seth found himself flipped off and Bakura yanked his arms up painfully behind his back, securing them with another piece of rope. He sat comfortably on Seth as the priest struggled vainly.
Bakura leaned over him, hair falling to brush lightly across Seth's check. "I said, not yet."
"Release me, thief," Seth demanded, twisting under the weight. He was fast tiring of this little game.
Bakura shifted, sitting back, and Seth blushed against his will, his body reacting to the touch as Bakura placed his hand on Seth's lower back and trailed lazy circles there. "I quite like you like this," he said suggestively.
Seth growled and tried to shake him off. Bakura laughed again, softly. "Come now, I'm not that heavy," he pouted. But he got off nonetheless and meandered away to pace up and down the hall, gazing at the walls without seeing them, ignoring Seth's demands to untie him.
Seth managed to work the knots loose again a few minutes later and wondered if the thief was tying them in such a way to permit Seth's eventual escape. He watched the tomb robber pace and decided on ignoring him as well, cleaning up the mess he made when he knocked the table over. Then he sat back in his chair and watched Bakura pace, back and forth.
--
The thief came in the night.
Startled from sleep, Seth lurched forward only to discover that the thief had a knee on either side of him, effectively straddling the unfortunate priest. Bakura clamped a hand over Seth's mouth to stifle the protest.
"Let's not worry the guards, hm?" he whispered.
Seth angrily batted the hand away. "What in the name of the Netjer are you doing, thief?!" Ignoring the question, the self-proclaimed king caught Seth's hands and deftly tucked them against the priest's sides, pinning them there with his knees. Seth tried to wrench his arms free, but Bakura pressed his knees against him tighter, and the resulting shift in his weight caused Seth to bite back a small sound that almost escape him.
Bakura grinned, pleased with the reaction. "You struggle so much, priest…" he murmured.
"I won't have your filth tainting me," Seth snapped, glaring. The thief tilted his head to the side, as if considering.
"My filth?" he repeated slowly, rolling the idea over his tongue, tasting it.
"Yes, your filth. The impurity and sin and corruption that drenches your soul," the priest spat. "I will praise the day when you are brought before His Majesty, fettered and bound; I will watch as you are pronounced Nameless, damned before man and the Netjer."
"Oh? And what will happen then?" Bakura asked, a wry smirk twisting his lips.
Anger sparked at the thief's almost amused attitude. "You will be dragged through the streets, cursed and reviled; you will be flogged, lashes ripping the flesh of your back until blood runs like rivers from your flayed skin; your hands, feet, and tongue shall be cut off, and your eyes put out as well if I have any say in it!" Seth was shouting now, his threats ringing loudly through the hall, doubling back upon themselves. "Your body will be force down onto a pike and you will lie in the baking sun for hours as the life slowly bleeds from you! And when you finally die, no rites will be pronounced over you; your body will be cast to the dogs! And I pray, I pray! That you find yourself in the Hall of Judgment, if only so that your heart will be devoured by Ammit, condemning you to oblivion!"
Seth trailed off, breathless, furious, glaring daggers at Bakura. The thief's head was bowed, hair shading his eyes and face, silent; the priest felt a slight tremor and saw Bakura's shoulders trembling slightly. Seth smirked, triumphant, until Bakura threw his head back and laughed. The hairs on the back on Seth's neck stood up and he watched, unnerved, as Bakura nearly doubled up, hysteric, a hand on the floor to support himself.
"Would- would you feel better that way, Seth?" he gasped, tears of mirth streaming down his cheeks. "If I- If I were condemned?" The priest threw his weight to the side abruptly and the thief crashed to the floor, still laughing. "Do I frighten you so much- so much that only death will bring you peace? Heheh heh…"
Seth scrambled to his feet. "I never said any of that!"
"You don't need to!" And Bakura howled with laughter.
"You're insane!" Seth yelled over the possessed laughter. He moved to kick him, anything to stop that crazed laughing, but Bakura's hand shot out and latched onto his ankle; he pinwheeled and his head collided with the stone floor with a sickening crack.
His head swam and he blinked stars from his eyes, a groan escaping undeterred. Slowly he rolled over onto his stomach, intent on getting up; on the ground was not a safe place, not with the thief, not with anyone.
A heavy weight settled on his back and Seth growled in frustration as his arm was yanked up sharply behind his back.
"Gods damn you, thief! I've had enough of this!" he shouted, but the noise made his head hurt more.
"But I haven't," was the whispered reply.
Through the haze he was dimly aware that Bakura wasn't laughing anymore.
"Still so certain you have the upper hand?" Bakura murmured as Seth desperately tried to blink away the dizziness. The thief reached back and tugged the hem of Seth's robes up, causing the priest to jerk violently, but it wasn't nearly enough to upset Bakura's seat. "Still believe that everything is under your control?" he asked, tracing delicate circles along the inside of Seth's thigh, grinning fiercely when the priest shuddered in response to the gentle ministrations. "I noticed that Per-a'a did not allow you to bring the Millennium Rod here. Do you feel unsafe without that means of control in your grasp?" His finger trailed higher…
"Get off," Seth said breathlessly, angry at himself for the obvious note of panic that worked his way into his words.
"Oh, you'll have to ask nicer than that," Bakura sing-songed, slipping one shoulder of Seth's robe down.
The priest gritted his teeth; he drew the line at begging. He would not humble himself to this monstrous madman. He shifted again but it was a hopeless effort; at least his head was clearing.
"Come on, Seth…"
"No," he ground out, screwing his eyes up against the pleasant sensations. He would overcome this like everything else.
The thief chuckled, evidentially amused. "You're only making this harder on yourself," he pointed out, slightly increasing the pressure.
Seth clenched his fists and said nothing.
Bakura made a disappointed sound, and suddenly his hand shot farther up Seth's robes. The brunette gasped and twisted fiercely, but the thief didn't move.
"Stop it- Ah!"
"Say it, priest!" Bakura said loudly, feeling Seth writhe beneath him.
"No! Ah- Damn it, Bakura! St- Ah ngh!" He bit his lip, hard, and tasted blood, but the thief was unrelenting. "Get off! Get- ah… Please! Please get off!"
The touches stop immediately, Bakura cackling. "So much for your unbreakable will!" he crooned, victorious.
Seth flushed red. "Just get off," he growled.
"I don't think I will…"
"What?!"
"Please does not always guarantee yes, Seth," Bakura tsked. "You should know that."
Seth mumbled something suspiciously like "I'll kill you" and Bakura grinned.
"I'm not sure how you'll manage that from your position," he pointed out. "So, now that we've got the question of your will out of the way, let's have a little chat."
"What? This was all because you wanted information?" Of all the underhanded…
"No, not just for information," Bakura mused, leaning forward. "For entertainment too," he said softly and licked Seth's ear. The priest scowled.
"What makes you think I'll say anything?" Given a choice between the two of them, not that there would ever be one, Seth would choose His Majesty, ever time.
"Your loyalties aren't as strong as you think they are," Bakura said simply. "One day they might just crumble."
"I am completely loyal to His Majesty," Seth countered.
"I wouldn't say so," Bakura replied, matter-of-fact. "I know a lot more than you give me credit for, Seth. Probably a lot more than you'd ever want me to. For instance, I know that you desperately want Per-a'a to acknowledge you, to, heh, return your feelings."
"That's a lie!"
"And I also know that you dislike Mahaado for also liking Per-a'a but being too much of a coward to even act on his feelings. I know that you'd do anything, anything for Kemet, and sometimes you resent the fact that Per-a'a draws the line at trashing his morals in order to protect people. You have no such qualms. I know that you're getting tired of constantly losing to Per-a'a, especially when you can best everyone else." Bakura paused, then grinned. "And I know that you prefer sweet wine to beer, and dates over figs."
"You have someone inside the Royal Household," Seth accused, wonderingly wildly who it could be.
"No, Seth, just me. I'm very good at what I do." Bakura was quiet again. "Would you like to know what Per-a'a thinks of you?"
"You are not privy to such information." While Bakura was off-guard, could Seth get his arm free? But the minute his wrist move at all, Bakura's grip clamped down again, vice-like.
"You're right; I'm not," Bakura agreed. "That's why finding out is so much more fun."
"Why are you doing this?" Seth demanded. His arm was starting to ache from being twisted the wrong direction for so long.
"Why? You're the first person to ask me that…" Bakura considered. "Well, that might also be because people don't normally live long enough for last words and all that after running into me, but… I suppose I want them to be quiet. To rest. To move on."
"What are you talking about?" Seth tried to get a good look at Bakura's face but couldn't manage from his pinned place on the floor.
"Seth, you know how the Items were made, don't you? Forged in blood and gold and fire…" Bakura leaned down over Seth and spoke, quiet and intent. "That was my village Per-a'a's soldiers destroyed; my family that was slaughtered; my future that was burned away in flames and screams of pain." Seth did a quick calculation; if Bakura was nineteen now, he would have been ten at that time! "The Akhu of my village cannot rest, not while those responsible go unpunished."
"The Akhu of your village?" Seth scoffed. "More like Muuet than Akhu."
Bakura abruptly grabbed a fist full of Seth's hair and yanked back sharply. "Take it back!" he growled.
Seth only grinned; he found a sore spot. "Kul Elna was a village of thieves, tomb robber! Akhu? Ha! They'd never make it past Judgment."
"And what is a ba before the eyes of the Netjeru, Seth?" Bakura demanded, still gripping his hair tightly. "The priests teach that the ba is perfect and unbreakable; only the ka can become corrupted and unworthy to enter Amenti."
"The dead of your village are nothing more than angry spirits roving about looking for someone to torment in their misery!" Seth spat, ignoring the burning sensation along his scalp. "And it looks like they've choose you as their target, thief!"
Seth broke off in a gasp of pain as Bakura slammed his head into the marble floor. Stars exploded in front of his eyes and he wondered how he was still conscious.
"Arrogance! It must be much more comfortable from where you are, isn't it, Seth?!" Bakura shouted as he stood, watching Seth unsuccessfully attempt to get up. "To be on the acceptable side of right, the side the law enforces. But what to do when that law is corrupted? Then to whom do people turn to uphold Ma'at? I will avenge my Akhu against the Per-a'a and your father!"
"My father's dead, you idiot; died in the war," Seth mumbled, kneeling unsteadily on the floor, vainly wiping away blood from his forehead.
"Akunadin's played you for a fool, Seth! And he'll do it again! A priest obscuring Ma'at for his own purpose!" Bakura yelled, pacing agitatedly in front of the wounded priest. "Do you see how mutable your precious truth really is? To be on the acceptable side of law, the truth becomes what you want it to! Without the law to cloud your eyes, Seth, Ma'at can only be Ma'at!"
"Truth isn't so warped, thief," Seth replied, still unable to stand.
"One day, Seth, you'll see truth properly and when you do your illusions and alliances will shatter like so much fragile glass."
"Would that make you feel better?" Seth shot back nastily with a wicked grin.
Bakura's eyes flashed and he stepped forward, grabbing Seth by the front of his robes. But instead of punching him, Bakura kissed him, deeply. When he pulled back, his blazing crimson eyes met Seth's Nile-blue ones.
"You're an idiot and a fool, and I despise you," Bakura whispered. And then he punched him.
--
"Seth? Seth, do you still live?"
The priest groaned and shifted, blinking in the bright light. "Your Majesty?"
Atem sighed in relief. "Praised be the gods. I thought the thief had killed you."
Seth sat up slowly, head spinning. "Where is he?" Knock him unconscious, would he? Now they had a score to settle.
Atem frowned. "He escaped. The guards came with your morning meal and found you collapsed on the floor in a small puddle of blood, probably from the wound on your head. The thief was nowhere to be seen."
"Damn it," Seth growled. That bastard got away…
"There will be another time, Seth," Atem said. "Let us return to the palace now."
Seth nodded, accepting his Millennium Rod back. As he moved to tuck it into his belt, he felt the handle shift oddly. With a quick glance to make certain His Majesty wasn't looking, Seth unsheathed the blade and saw a tiny scrap of papyrus pressed against the cold metal.
In clear, neat hieroglyphs it read: I wonder who the Per-a'a blames for my escape? Me or you?
Seth growled and crumpled the note in his fist, dropping it into the sands. He mounted his horse and followed His Majesty back to the palace.
Not loyal indeed…
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Believable, or not? Read and review to let me know!