Dueljewl: This is my first fic to be Bakura centered so please, if he starts seeming a little OOC, tell me and I will be happy to fix it. It's a romance fic with an original character so yeah…. The action/adventure category really isn't a main thing in this but it does apply to latter chapies. It kinda starts off slow but as the chapters go up it will pick up speed, promise!

At the very beginning Yami may seem a little OOC, but that's because he's described through Lyanna's second person point of view. I'm really working on the whole thing were different characters are more likely to notice different things or take them differently than others when it's their point of view. Bear with me please, it won't take long.

You're probably tired of listening to me so I'll just let ya get on to the fic. Enjoy!

Lyanna, quivering with an anger she deeply longed to express, stood before her older brother, her head bowed in a mockery of submission. Her dark black hair fell into light, violet eyes, partially obscuring the scene before her. Yami sat perched atop his golden throne, looking every inch the powerful Pharaoh, Egypt's main facet of power. To his right, the High Priest Seito -- and their cousin -- gripped his golden rod, the usual superior air about him. A serving girl of no more than eleven, clad in the same cheap, rough spun white linen all slaves wore, gripped a silver tray nervously, a goblet of water and one of wine resting atop it. Her eyes darted between the Pharaoh and High Priest, in awe of the company she stood in. Around the room, other dignitaries of varying degree ringed the walls; the lesser shoved to the back.

It isn't fair; she fumed, thinking back to when the horrible news had first been delivered to the royal place by envoy.

The marriage proposal between Rome and Egypt had been successfully completed; in a week, Yami would be shipping her off to some country she had never seen to wed a sickly little boy of ten. The fact that she was five years his senior seemed to matter not to her brother; such trivial details did not matter when you could be making a powerful alliance with Rome.

So long as it brought his kingdom greater strength, Yami would have married her to a camel if he had to; she would have taken the camel in a heartbeat, so long as it meant she could stay in Egypt.

She had prayed to the gods fervently, using every ounce of will she contained to persuade them to show the Romans that the marriage would not be in their best interest. But, even after spending liberal amounts of time at Ma'ats' temple, hoping to find some justice from her ordeal, her brother still insisted on pursuing the arrangement to the end.

"Think of the greater good, little Lyanna," Yami began, smiling down at her as if bestowing the greatest gift she could wish for. "You shall live in luxury in Rome, wed to the single heir of their current 'Caesar'." He pronounced the new word with some difficulty, as they all did. "You shall be the great link between the two most powerful nations in the world!"

Her head jerked upright sharply; what did she care for loyalties and alliances? It would be Yami and his heirs that ruled, and she would be shunted to the side, little more than decor for any room she stood in. And, inevitably, it would be the same in Rome; stand where you're told and remember to look pretty.

"If I may, Pharaoh?" Seito asked courteously.

Lyanna's eye's shifted to her cousin's face, unwillingly curious as to what he had to say; yet it remained as unreadable ever.

"Yes, yes." Yami replied impatiently, waving for him to continue.

"Perhaps, if I may be so bold, her highness does not wish to see the importance of this marriage contract, and only wishes to sulk in her own self - pity?"

Lyanna's violet eyes flashed angrily, more or less because he was partially correct. Yami, similarly affronted by the comment, narrowed his eyes, obviously displeased with his cousin's latest observation.

"That is too bold, Seito"

Lyanna smiled inwardly at her brother's purposeful discard of Seito's title in court. Seito bowed low -- only slightly lower than his station demanded -- straightening as soon as he reached the end of the dip. Unnoticed to most whom were not close enough to see, a muscle in Seito's cheek started to twinge, as it always did whenever he was particularly ill tempered.

"That is enough," Yami said, motioning the girl forward so that he could take hold of one of the two goblets. "I grow weary of arguing the same facts over and over until all point of the discussion is ran into the ground."

He waved his hand, signing for the next petitioner. Lyanna was not too angered not to notice her dismissal. Her back stiffened as she turned sharply, stalking from the large room. Childish yes, but there was nothing better that she could do. As the golden doors swung outwards, she swore to herself to find any means possible to escape the fate set before her, even if it meant to defy the Gods.

Bakura's eyes traveled across several worn tables, chairs of different sizes and styles surrounding them and most of those broken or sloppily mended. In the far corner, two burly field hands diced with their week's pay, egged on by their friends as they won or lose varying tosses. At another table a lone man lay slumped across its surface, wine soaking into the wood and his clothing. Scattered through the room were more people in varying states of drunkenness, though it was hardly crowded let alone half full.

His lips began to curl into a sneer as he took in the flaking white wash and grimy floor, in much need of a good cleaning. As his gaze fell on the proprietor of the inn - a rather large man, dressed in loose linen trousers gathered at the ankle with worn bits of string and a similar linen vest, left open to expose several hairy rolls of hairy fat. The sneer changed to that of a condescending half-smile, more of a pulling at the corners of his lips than anything else.

The man turned just so and his eyes flicked across Bakura. Slowly he registered whom he had just seen as his eyes traveled once more across the tomb robber. His face split into a wide grin, exposing several yellow, rotting teeth, as he made his way to where Bakura stood, his arms spread wide in greeting.

"Curse you Bakura, I thought they 'ad tossed yer Ra - forsaken carcass to the crocs in de Nile already." He chuckled loudly, catching Bakura in a tight hug and squeezing till he could hardly breathe.

Bakura gagged slightly, taking in the fumes of stale alcohol and several weeks' worth of sweat. As he was let down, he forced his expression so that a half grin covered his disgust at being swept up by the innkeeper, Khalid.

" 'Fraid not, Khalid. Though I have a list of people I could name who can't wait to see the day."

Khalid chuckled, showing several gaps were teeth had rotten away. "Aye and the Pharaoh 'im self would be at de top o' dat list, 'e would." He shook his head, a frown slowly curving his fat face downwards. "It no be any business o' mine, Bakura, but to go makin' enemies wit' the Pharaoh and 'is High Priest, that no be a smart thing to do."

"Let me handle the Pharaoh, you just handle these drunkards."

Khalid nodded slowly, his face brightening at the prospect of a new spender. "You'll be wantin' a room, you would, like usual?"

Bakura shook his head, deciding the sooner he was about his business the better. "Not this time Khalid. Though a drink of your best ale would be a welcome sight."

He hooked his foot around the nearest chair, pulling it out and falling into it gracelessly. Placing his feet atop the table, he grinned as Khalid frowned momentarily, turning quickly to get the ale, likely no better fit for pigs than customers.

Moments later, a darkly tanned girl with hair the color of pitch stood directly in front of him, one fist on hips as she regarded him with what he assumed was supposed to be a severe expression. She tapped her foot impatiently, as though expecting him to do something. Deciding to play along, he cocked his head to the side, placing his hands behind his head as he grinned winningly at her.

"Hello Sari, what seems to be the matter?" he questioned blandly, amused as she seemed torn between swooning and thumping him over the head with the pewter mug in her hands.

"You left me Bakura! You promised you'd take me with you and I wake up to find the place beside me in bed empty and not a trace of you!" Her simpering whine grated on his nerves, but he maintained the grin.

"So I suppose the mug must have my ale, right?"

Letting out a wail of frustration, she smashed the mug down on the table, sloshing the brown, watered down liquid over the sides. Bakura's feet thudded as they fell to the ground, his arms falling to his sides as he looked up at Sari.

"Hey now, I have to pay for that miserable excuse for a drink. May as well get some of it down my throat."

Catching her hand as she reached out for the ale -- most likely to dump it in his face -- he twisted her about so she fell into his lap. Smiling down at her expectant face, he laughed inwardly at the look of utmost adherence that shown in her eyes. It was pathetic, really, but what were you to do when the Pharaoh wanted your head and all the good establishments already knew your face on sight?

"Now, we wouldn't want any of that would we?"

Sari shook her head hurriedly, wrapping her arms around his neck with a giggle. "Oh, I've missed you Bakura." She said, her lips forming into an exaggerated pout. "There's never anything to do when you're gone. Just smelly field hands to keep me company, when I'd so rather be with you."

Bakura chuckled, leaning back in the chair. It was good to be back in Cairo.

Striding purposefully away from the main buildings of the palace, the tale white spires and columns flaring behind her dramatically, Lyanna made her way to the temple of Ma'at, unsure of what exactly she meant to do. The whirlwind that was her thoughts swirled like desert storms, disarrayed and with no set direction. Two days left, she thought frantically, just two days to find some way to get out of leaving Egypt. The cooling breeze of late evening wafted past, swirling her ebony tresses about her face, screening her troubled gaze. She twitched her shoulders, uncomfortable in the long, white silk dress. They had taken to dressing her in the Roman fashions, and had withheld nothing in the way of detail.

The dress covered most of her except for being sleeveless, tight around the waist and with narrow skirts. Though made of an opaque silk, Lyanna felt uncomfortable in the garment; the way it hinted everything yet managed to reveal nothing. Dark blue embroidered scrollwork encircled the scooped neckline and climbed the bodice, emphasizing what was already there. Which was, to be blunt, not much. Truth be told, Lyanna was indeed skinny though made it seem a fault, with slim hips and little in the way of chest. Open toed sandals that did little more than giver her something to stand on adorned her feet, the laces winding to half a foot above her ankle but well covered by the dress.

Lyanna hated it.

She stumbled as she suddenly came upon the steps, regaining her balance on the fourth step after almost plunging headfirst into the pale marble stairs. Flashes of the priests called to Ma'at's order showed in between the tall, fluted columns that ringed the building of worship. They made an orderly procession to the door, making their way to wherever it was the priests went when the day's work was finished; wherever it was, Lyanna had never been told. She waited for them to pass, straining not to pull at the dress to try to loosen it.

When the last had gone, she threw dignity to the wind and pulled the skirt of her dress up to knee level, sprinting the rest of the way up the stairs and to the middle of the open chamber. The room rang at each heavy footfall, resonating and redoubling to echo in distorted tones. Half ringed with more of the fluted columns, a large statue of Ma'at stood in the middle, the offerings of others scattered about her feet. Her kindly face smiled down at Lyanna, beautiful and wise, justice and truth in all its entirety. An ostrich feather stuck up from her hair, the carvings all so delicate as to make Ma'at seem almost lifelike.

Bakura ghosted past the guards, slowly making his way to his destination. He chuckled inwardly; Yami may as well blindfold his sentries for all the good they did to keep Bakura out. It would not take them long to find their companions, tucked behind a bush that had barely been big enough to fit one behind let alone two.

Up ahead a building suddenly loomed into view, swinging into focus unexpectedly. It was made all of pale white marble slashed with streaks of silver gleaming in the starlight. Tall columns supported the arched roof, hieroglyphs engraved into the cold surface. Finding the place deserted, Bakura trotted up the steps, crouched slightly and moving with a smooth grace borne from years of practice.

Stepping inside the building, which he now recognized as a temple, he made his way to the center slowly, his feet ringing against the floor. Against one wall was a small altar, filled with statuettes of the goddess and jewelry of every variety. Pottery painted with images of the goddess stood on either side, columns of hieroglyphs telling her glories and attributes. Reaching into the pile, he withdrew a heavy golden necklace, more like a collar with its two-inch thickness and studded with jewels.

"What do you think you're doing?" A cold voice snapped from the shadows.

Bakura came very near to jumping, turning around slowly to see who had come to the temple. A form detached itself from the shadows behind the giant statue of Ma'at in the middle. As the shape came into the dull light of a lone candle and whatever moonlight streamed through, Bakura was able to make out the shape of a woman. The white of her outfit did not help to conceal her, only managed to reflect any light and better illumine her form. He surveyed her with a critical eye, noting on different circumstances she might have been nice for a cuddle, though skinny as she was he would have passed her over if not for her face. Not the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, but by her stance a spirited thing.

An eyebrow arched slightly at her tone, his mouth drawing up in a smile that only brought half his mouth up. "Such an authoritative little girl, are we? This truly shall be amusing."

She tossed her head angrily, an indignant sniff sounding across the dark room. "You would do better to speak with more respect to the Princess of Egypt, the Pharaoh's favored sibling."

"Ah, but the Pharaoh has only one sibling." Bakura answered, slowly stepping away from the altar and taking steps towards the girl; he was running out of time and had no time to deal with a girl who seemed to think highly of herself and her titles, whatever they might be. "No matter what, the least favored sibling would also be the most favored sibling as there is only one to fill both positions. So you see, you are at a slight disadvantage in that aspect. That is, if you really are who you say you are, which I highly doubt. I was not born yesterday."

Hands clenched to her sides, Bakura half expected her to stomp her foot and stick out her tongue. She seemed to be struggling to find something more to say and was only able to manage "How dare you! You would doubt the word of Egypt's only princess? You, a mere thief who isn't even as good as he seems to think?" She twisted the word thief to make it sound as if it were a vile that she had been forced to sully her tongue by saying.

The shouts and dull clanking of metal on the steps alerted Bakura to the soon to be arrival of the guards. Swearing a string of vulgar oaths, Bakura finished the distance between him and the girl; perhaps he could use this to his best advantage.

"Listen, 'Princess', I really don't have time for this. So, if you don't mind."

So saying, Bakura bent his knees, grasping her waist in his hands, ignoring her gasp and shouts of protest as he heaved her over his shoulder. Holding her so, Bakura made for the opposite direction he had came, reaching back to smother her mouth with his hand; she was making too much noise for him to escape without further notice. At a sharp nip in the center of his palm he cursed, removing the hand from her mouth to smack her soundly over the behind. A startled yelp momentarily cut of her shouts and he once again smothered her mouth with his hand.

Dueljewl: Well that was it, my first chapie. Good? Bad? Hate it with a passion? I'll never know till ya review! Creative criticism is welcomed but if you really feel the need to do an all out flame, at least give details to what you find so appalling about this fic. I'll probably laugh at it anyway, but it's always nice to have a well thought out flame, ne?

Ja ne!