Disclaimer: I do not own YGO.
Many thanks to the wonderful Umiko581 for encouraging me to try my hand at sketching a somewhat sympathetic villain. It's a dark, dark picture.
Part I: Pits (Marik)
One measly hour.
Is all I ask for.
I would gladly return to the perpetual darkness of the Pharaoh's tomb if only I may keep with me the memory of one hour in the sunlight. One hour to feel its warmth caress my face. One hour to feel its rays lightening the bleakness within my heart. One hour to see its sparkle dance across the sands of Egypt while the wind coursed through my hair. One measly hour to feel, for the first time in my life, alive. I would gladly return to the living death of the tombkeeper for eternity if I may only know the feeling of being alive.
One measly day.
Is all I ask for.
I was born into servitude. The fates decree it and so it shall be. Like my father before me and his father before him, my fate as an Ishtar is to give my everything to the nameless Pharaoh. The scars on my back are a constant reminder of my fate as a living, breathing vessel for a tradition as old as the Pyramids in which I dwell. Like my ancestors before me, I am a human sacrifice to a power beyond myself. Dead as that power may be, I am still bound to live in its shadow, forever denied and forever waiting.
Who knows when the Pharaoh would return, if he were to return at all? Am I so insignificant as to be condemned forever to darkness, sharing the ashes of my dreams with spirits long called to Ra? Am I forever condemned to live as a shadow of a human being, drowning in tears as the darkness snuffs the light from each of my hopes?
One measly lifetime.
Is all I ask for.
I would gladly serve the Pharaoh in all of my incarnations if I may be free to choose my own path in one life. What use have I for goodness when the price for it is my very soul? What use have I for honor at the price of my happiness? What need have I for tradition when all I have to look forward to is darkness? Black is the color of my heart. It is the life I have not the right to call my own, the days I cannot distinguish from nights, and the future I cannot call mine.
I died the day I was born.
Part II: Peaches (Yami Marik)
One measly girl.
Is all he asked for.
He would gladly return to the perpetual darkness of his Puzzle if only he may keep with him the memory of one hour with her. One hour to feel her warm hands caress his face. One hour to feel her smile lightening the bleakness in heart. One hour to see her eyes sparkle across the sands of time while the wind coursed through her hair. One measly hour to feel, for the first time in his life, alive. He would gladly return to the living death of the nameless spirit if he may only know the feeling of living with her by his side.
One measly Pharaoh.
She was born into pain. I decree it and so it shall be. Like her father before me and his father before him, her fate as is to give me everything I need to punish the nameless Pharaoh for robbing me of my life. The scars in her mind are now a constant reminder of her fate as a living, breathing vessel for suffering. Unlike my ancestors before me, I am no longer a human sacrifice to a power beyond myself. The Pharaoh is dead and I refuse to live in his shadow, forever denied and forever waiting. He would come for her, I know, for she is worth the very foundation of light. For her, he would burn the very essence of his soul. but even that will not save her from my darkness.
One measly world.
Is all I ask for.
What use has the Pharaoh for goodness when he must pay for it with his heart? What use has he for honor at the sacrifice of his happiness? What need has he for tradition when all he has to look forward to is perpetual darkness? Black is the color of his future now. It is the life he can no longer share, the days and nights he will spend forever alone, and the future she no longer has.
I lived the day she became my shadow.
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