Hello everyone, sorry I've been inactive of late, I've had a billion and one things on my mind, been on a bit of a downer, and I'm losing my social life to Skyrim, so I wrote this to distract myself, hopefully it'll come across good. It's just a really short one to depart my mind from current events. Hope you like it.
The View From The Palace.
He'd always loved the view from the view from the highest balcony of the Royal palace; staring out at the bleak majesty of the desert, the vast expanse of radiant sand, still shining with opulent brilliance, even with the black veil of the Egyptian night flung across it. Not even Anubis' shroud could blot out such beauty. He turned his gaze upwards from the sand, into the blackness itself. He knew that by day he could see as far afield as Alexandria to the North, a flotilla of ships, Egyptian, Greek, one or two from Palestine, throwing their white sails up into the coastal wind in its harbour, like a swan unfurls it's wings to catch an updraft. The night had all but blotted out such a vista to his eyes, but his gaze could pick out the faintest glimmer of lights in the far distance, the calling card that the great port city never slept. He'd never truly believed the old adage about the Pharaohs, that they 'ruled as far as the eye could see.' But with such a spectacle of a view laid out before his hungry eyes, he realised it was no mere turn of phrase, but measurable fact.
'Enjoying the view?' came a stern, yet bizarrely intrigued voice behind him. He knew exactly to whom it belonged, he had no need to turn, but it was always polite to acknowledge those who address you, even one's enemies. Even in his nightclothes, the Pharaoh was ornately decorated, opulent gold earrings, studded with rubies, on top of his ever-present, ever-coveted Millennium Puzzle, somewhat distracted the one the king addressed from his words. 'Or do you have ulterior motives as usual Bakura?'
The lord of the thieves grinned broadly, and bowed deeply before the Pharaoh, every move, and intonation dripping with sarcasm.
'My king, what a surprise, did I interrupt your sleep?' Bakura straightened up, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of the deep crimson robe he hadn't paid for, leaning back against the balcony rail, letting his silvery hair catch the night breeze, ruffling a few extra spikes into its albino-hedgehog-esque visage. A thin wisp of a grimace played around the Pharaoh's features at his uninvited guest's casual sarcasm.
'How did you get in here Thief?' snapped Egypt's young ruler, crossing his arms harshly, mustering as much authority as can be gleaned by a man in his nightclothes. Bakura played at being offended.
'Why Pharaoh? Calling my skills into question are we? Tut Tut Tut.' He waggled a disappointed finger in the Pharaoh's general direction , 'Surprised are we? That your palace guards were no match for the King of the Thieves?'
The Pharaoh snapped alert, striding up to Bakura and jabbing an accusing finger in his grinning face, which failed utterly to threaten the master bandit. Roaring at him like a man possessed.
'If you have taken lives on the grounds of my palace, then so help me Ra, I'll...' But the silver-haired man cut him off.
'Oh honestly Pharaoh, a little faith in the abilities of your nemesis please. Your guards will wake up perfectly fine and dandy in a few hours. Let's just say they'll want to lay off the wine for a while, who knows what's in the cheap stuff these days?' He shot the King a knowing look, savouring his silent fury before continuing. 'And besides, I command every thief, pickpocket, cutthroat, pirate, bandit, outlaw, racketeer, slave trader, murderer, assassin, highwayman, thug, mercenary, sell-sword, hitman, pimp, the odd politician, and incidentally all of the minstrels now that I think of it, between here and the far side of Nubia. If I wanted to butcher my way in here, I'd have brought an army just for good measure.' He waved his arms to theatrically punctuate each item in his list of crime, drinking joyously in the irritation spawning in the King of Egypt's eyes.
'So you drugged my guards and forced entry into my Palace to do what exactly?' spoke the Pharoah, fighting to keep the anger and resentment as much out of his voice as possible, walking past the criminal to lean on the Balcony next to him, prompting Bakura to turn on his heels and join his 'Lord and master.'
'The same thing that every criminal wants to do when they look up at such a hall of decadence,' He replied, a touch of genuine sadness appearing in his voice. 'Spend half a hour pretending it's theirs.'
The Pharaoh nodded knowingly, but the moment of emotional understanding didn't last long, seeing as Bakura decided to melt the silence with; 'Also, I may have enjoyed myself with one or seven of your concubines for a bit on my way here, two of them are now 'broken in' and one is officially past it.' The Pharaoh rolled his eyes, before settling them on the thief king with a withering stare.
'You're disgusting.'
'I do my best Atem old boy.'
Turning on his heel, the Pharaoh stormed inside, pausing only to shoot a disgusted, venomous glance over his shoulder.
'Be gone by the time I return, that is your only warning.' And without waiting for a reply, the Lord of the Kingdom departed, leaving Bakura alone in the darkness, the wind still ruffling his hair, it's silvery strands dancing merrily in the breeze. Criminal though he was, Bakura knew when it was genuinely unwise to outstay a welcome, and when it was safe to push it, and personally aggravating a King within his own abode was generally listed under 'pushing it a bit much.' Gathering his crimson cloak about his solidly built chest, Bakura ounded up onto the balcony rail, and with one last glance at the vista before him, launched himself into the night.
'So this is what it's like to be King, sort of.' He thought to himself as he plunged downwards, timing his descent carefully, down to the ladt second, before his arm shot out, grasping the window ledge on the first floor, only his deceptively powerful muscles preventing his arm from being wrenched off. Dropping the last ten feet with the grace of an acrobat, Bakura alighted on the ground in front of the main gate. The guards were as he left them, passed out cold at their posts, their prone forms the only meagre defence of the Palace's main entrance.
'Brilliant job boys, your country thanks you.' He intoned with a hint of malicious glee, ruffling the hair of an unconscious guard as he made his exit, the image of the grand vista above the palace burned into his retinas. One day, when he ruled this accursed land, when he disposed with the monarchy that had massacred his people, when he had crushed the gods underfoot in the name of the mighty Zorc Necrophades, one day, when even the cry of the mighty Blue-eyes White Dragon could not drown out his battle cry. One day, he would recline on that balcony, no longer the uninvited guest, but the ruler, the master of the house, and drink in the view of Alexandria, of the tall ships veiled by the night.
There we go, yes it's short, but I only had 2 hours to myself to write it in, when I get my creative muse back proper I'll resume writing Amegakure and The Summit, I have a good plan for both, so bear with me, it's gonna be a long ride.
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RFRG