Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh, nor do I make any money from writing this piece of fiction.
Challenge Name and Number: #049, Death
Drabble Title: Visited Upon the Son
Word Count: 600
Warnings (if applicable): Blood, allusions to torture
Pairings (if applicable): None (Shocker, right?)
Summary: Anything and everything he holds dear shall be stripped away, until he finally dies with the full understanding of what his father had done that day.
Author's Note: Heavily inspired by the phrase, "The sins of the father shall be visited upon the son."
He stared, fascinated by the lines of red that ran down the wall, outlining the cracks where the stones had been cut to fit together. She had been so delicate, so graceful, so light – there was never a doubt she had been his favorite.
And now, she is no more.
Knives sharper than a crocodile's teeth had pinned her to the wall, her gauzy dancer's clothes torn from the struggle, the last of her blood slowly trickling out to congeal onto the floor. Knife slashes marred her cooling body from neck to toe – he left her face, forever frozen in pain and fear, unmarred on purpose. For a moment, the puddle spreading across the stone floor reminded him of another place, another time – had he concentrated, he could have started hearing their screams of agony and fear as they were mercilessly dropped into cursed molten gold. He shook his head to clear his mind; now was not the time or the place to be dwelling on half suppressed memories.
Anything and everything he holds dear, I shall strip away from him, as his father had done to me.
It mattered not that he was exacting his revenge upon the son and not the father. The father he would get around to soon enough, just as soon as the rites were completed. The door to the room suddenly slammed open, interrupting his thoughts, and a glimpse over his shoulder revealed a winged golden crown.
Perfect. Just who I wanted. A sinister sneer spread across his face.
Crimson eyes widened in shock as their owner took in the sight of the room: the slowly expanding puddle of red on the floor, the limp body pinned to the stone wall by a knife through slender wrists, the tanned hunched figure, with his hair as white as sun-bleached wood in the desert, blocking the victim from view. The shock instantly turned to anger.
"BAKURA!"
The murderer whirled, cackling as the coat flared out impressively around him, giving the other a full view of the victim. "Pharaoh," he answered with barely concealed sadism, "how kind of you to join us." He paused, feigning disappointment, "But I'm afraid you were too late to join me for the main dish." He approached the girl, placing a seemingly gentle hand under her chin to direct her wide unseeing stare at the man in the entryway.
"How dare you-! She was barely-"
He cackled more as his hand left her chin to cup her delicate female form. "She was so delicious, with her meager attempts to stop me and her cries of pain. I only wished you could have been here to experience it."
"You-"
"Just remember, Pharaoh," he spat out the title like a curse word, "I'm only doing unto you what has already been done to me. Sins of the father and all that." Not bothering to explain further, he let out a shrill whistle, and leaped out of the window and onto the back of a horse charging by. A white horse. The Pharaoh's horse.
Guards rushed out of the palace to stop his escape, but to no avail – they could not stop him, the King of Thieves, the Chosen One of the sacrifices of Kul Elna. No one could, not until he had destroyed this dynasty with his own two hands, denying them of their eternity of paradise in the Field of Reeds, their names forever lost and unspoken.
Just like the ninety nine other souls he had once called his family.
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