The Games We Play

Disclaimer: I own nothing. This is for fun.

A/N: I've another two chapters of this wrote but instead of posting it all at once as a oneshot, I'm posting it as a Short Story because I'm nervous about how I'm doing with it and how it'll be received.

I don't read much BMT fan fiction anymore but I do enjoy writing it, however I've gone for something very AU here as the description states, in fact I've a whole page of AU's branching of 'what if's' from the main canon storyline involving lots of characters. This is the first Akkarin/Sonea one I'm posting. I hope you can enjoy it even though it's short but I'm working on getting the rest up if it's liked enough.

Unbeta'ed

Rated to be safe.

AU. In which Ceryni was raised a Thief and Akkarin plays cloak-and-dagger with his contact in the Slums.

With each step the mucky wet of the tunnel sucked and slid under his weight, thick and filthy with mud and stale rainwater from the surface. Leaking from above, it dripped down the rough walls and pooled in the path's uneven crevices, hazardous at best even with the use of a light.

For Akkarin however, the underground system was an all too familiar route.

Each step landed firm and steady as he made his way through the dark, his boots keeping the mire and chill from his feet with ease. His heavy and worn cloak whispered between his legs as he walked, covering his plain commoners clothes beneath.

Despite owning far finer, higher quality clothing Akkarin was quite fond of the cloak. It was dyed a dark grey, made of reber-wool and as typical per slum clothing it was rough and thick making it quite durable. It's low swooping hood shadowed his face well, keeping his identity anonymous when he needed it and it just about brushed passed his kneecaps, leaving nothing but his heavy reber-hide boots to show. He'd required it some winters before from a thug at a brothel. Strangely enough or perhaps not, it was bought for ten mugs of bol. It had been too amusing watching the man be thrown from the establishment from behind the rim of his worn cloak.

It was a minor thing but his cloak did more than hide his appearance; it shielded his identity from the world making him nothing more than a faceless shadow in the crowd. It hid his sins, his secrets and stains. Within his mind with it on he wasn't the esteemed and envied High Lord of the Magician's Guild, he was merely a man in the crowded filthy streets with dirty business to attend. He could breath a little easier wrapped in it's scratchy, stained warmth and let the mask slip a little from his face and shoulders.

The cloak was the only second-hand garment he possessed. It was worn and threadbare with the neck-bindings coming loose. It needed repaired or replaced.

Akkarin knew he could just buy another as easy however he'd attached a certain sentimental value to the cloak and found himself reluctant to let it go.

'I've done that with quite a few things lately,'he mused, turning left into another tunnel and continuing on. This one was in slightly better condition than the last and not as old. It was roughly paved with uneven stone and his boots thudded with each step, echoing along the corridor. He slowed his pace to quieten his steps and reached out the touch the gritty walls. He let his fingertips trail along the loose dirt, feeling for the tell-tale nook which signaled for him to turn once more. He would have grime stuck under his fingernails afterwards.

Stained palms.

He had no need for a globe light or guide. He knew his way and he was permitted to travel it by the man who currently owned the maze of tunnels he graced frequently.

At the thought of the short Thief, Akkarin felt himself smile. If there was ever a definition of "Looks can be deceiving", Ceryni was it. Living up to his name, Ceryni barely reached Akkarin's shoulder and with a youthful face and quick smile, he could easily pass for a boy half his age. It was an easy mistake to underestimate him. After all, Akkarin had himself upon first meeting the man.

However he soon learnt that what Ceryni lacked in height he made up for in bulk and skill. The Thief was a lean mass of quick muscle. He was experienced for one so young and powerful in both self and his connections. He was quick minded and resourceful when the situation called for it.

It paid to be the son of a Thief it seemed, as much as it did to be the son of a Lord.

Akkarin considered Ceryni a vital part of his success for he truly wouldn't have made quite as much process as he had the past four years without the younger man. Ceryni had talent. He had connections. He had just what the High Lord needed.

Coming to a halt, Akkarin paused as his left hand fell inward towards the wall where it caved suddenly, turning sharply to the left and into yet another passageway. The turn was sharp and narrow, easy to miss even with a light and if one wasn't attentive. He couldn't see it but he could feel how tight the way was when he stepped in and his barrier brushed against chiselled stone.

He was closer now. There was a faint, warm breeze teasing his face and the tunnels grew warmer with each well placed step.

Not long now.

He'd met Ceryni within such a tunnel years before during one of his explorations of the underground passages beneath the Guild. It had all been one glorious mistake.

'One of many,'he thought sombrely as he loosened his cloak around his neck and felt it slip a little down his shoulders. He really needed to fix the neck clasps.

His relationship with Ceryni was a distant yet well-suited one, he barely met with the little Thief however he was well-informed of his progress and recent activities through other sources. That first meeting they'd sat together had been the one and only time Akkarin had been in the same room as the man for a short period for time. And that was how he liked it.

'No rub,'the Thief had said with a shrug and flash of blurt teeth, 'I'll sort you out.'he told him and reached out to shake his hand. 'I know just what you need.'

He'd left the young Thief behind that night uncertain he had made the right decision.

Four years on, five Sachakan slaves dead and Akkarin knew he'd placed his trust in the right man.

The corridor ahead of him spread out slowly, giving him more room and Akkarin sent his senses out, searching the darkness ahead, paying particular attention to what lay behind the left wall. 'Good,'he thought, drawing himself back from the warmth further in, he was on time. His boots clicked on stone, echoing throughout the tunnel.

The right man? Well…that wasn't entirely true. Ceryni had connections and it had been one of these fortunate's he'd sent Akkarin's way a mere two days after they'd first drawn up their contract.

Somewhere within the dark ahead, a lock scratched and slid free from it's holdings, metal screaming along metal. A heavy door was thrown open with a thud to his left and Akkarin had to blink against the sudden light as it flooded the tunnel. Too long had he been in the dark.

Warmth from a fire within touched his face and once the blindness had subsided he opened his eyes to the silhouette leaning casually against the doorway. Tangled dark hair, dark eyes alight with amusement, pale skin flushed from the heat and lips in a smirk.

"Well, aren't you on time for once."

He smirked and dropped his hood, tilted his head and shrugged,

"I've been on time before." He answered, stepping into the heat and light leaking from the small room.

With a scoff and small wave she pushed herself off the frame and stepped back to welcome him with a mocking bow and familiar smile, one that he found himself returning as he entered.

"Let's get started, shall we?" She suggested slyly, straightening and closing the door behind him with a rattling, satisfied clang.

Her name was Sonea.

Or, at least that's what Akkarin knew her as.

And she was his little secret.

Thanks for reading. Reviews are more than welcome if you feel up to it.