Sons of Egypt.
Chapter One: Begotten.
It was beautiful outside. The warm rays of the sun reigned down upon the long sands of the country of Egypt, blessing them with a wonderful day after several collisions with the Nile. People were walking about town, laugh cheerfully together and thanking the Gods up above for such a given.
However. Where he was, there was no light, no warmth and most definitely no joy.
Marik had always known as he sat now against the wall, his brother huddled against him. He had always known that throughout his entire life everything they both had been through was a preparation for something bigger. To the unseeing eye the sight would have been endearing, beautiful perhaps. Two teenagers, brothers, with blonde hair and striking lavender eyes sat down on the floor, one heavily clung to the other.
Only Marik knew that such things were only superficial.
He had been raised with his brother in a tomb where he could not see and could not hear a thing of the outside world. There was no love shared here for his brother was adopted and treated lower than dirt and his sister had to continue her preaching and it was always as if she was scared to get close. It were these signs that told Mariku something was very off.
As the oldest he had gone through the ritual and perhaps that was the time when his mind finally broke and left room for insanity to take its place. No, not insanity, cynicism that overtook him. The memories would never fade away, the hot knife pressed into the very flesh of his body, cutting him open as it marred his skin forever. When all was done and said Malik had kept questioning about the room, what had happened but to protect Malik's mind from cracking Mariku had never spoken a word.
It was ironic. These markings were beautiful, wonderfully illustrated and yet it was their beauty that told a terrible secret. And as the oldest he was supposed to bear it.
Life down the tomb was harsh, their father was a cruel man who cared nothing for his children and just raised them to be obedient, for if one defied the gods, death would take your place. When Mariku had been younger he had been listening with a frown, when that horrible secret was passed onto him, he no longer listened to the teachings at all. How were the Gods supposed to damn them when they had offered him little to no help when he screamed. They were not there to rip the knife out of his father's cold hands and plunge it into his equally cold heart.
No. That was all Mariku's job.
If he had to suffer for them, he would abhor them. Rewards in death meant nothing when there was no afterlife to begin with.
And right about now he was not even making an effort at calming his younger brother down as they were waiting for their father to return. It was not a secret that his father loathed Mariku, hence why Malik had been desperate to protect him for the coming lash of the whip and had been taken down instead. A regular person would call this noble, Mariku just deemed it to be stupid. Why take a blow for him, he'd enough scars to go around.
"Marik.." a soft whimper caught his attention.
Blank violent eyes turned to trembling softer ones.
"I-I'm scared."
"Don't be."
It was as much comfort as he could give, even in the light of things, Malik could tell that it was an obvious lie. Mariku didn't believe everything would be okay and his whole body radiated it.
"But what if they.." Malik swallowed, averting his gaze from the eyes that seemed to scrutinize him with their cold precision. Mariku had no emotion, he could not understand Malik's fear. All that Mariku would be able to understand was the very hatred that dared to consume him. "What if they take you away from me?"
"Then they take me away." There was no waver in his voice, no betrayal of his emotion. Mariku had long known that he and Malik were to get separated. They were born to be given away, live in the shadows to be so much more appreciative of the light. Though it was only Malik who had embraced it, Mariku had chosen to reside in the lingering shadows of the tomb.
"Don't you CARE?"
A somewhat confused gaze was settled upon the older blonde. "What do you mean?"
"Care Marik, care!" Malik waved his arms around for good emphasis, his face resorting to one of anger instead of fear. "You don't care if you never see me again do you!"
For a moment there was silence when Mariku contemplated this fact. He didn't fear what was about to get them, he had heard his sister praying for them many times before. When they were born it was a miracle to not have one but two babies with golden hair and lavender eyes, even at the cost of their mother. It was a 'gift' of the gods and because Mariku was the oldest, he was to receive the scriptures on his back. Mariku was deemed a servant of the gods and the markings on his back were proof of his 'heritage'.
He was to be treated with some sorts of respect, live a life at some Pharaoh and be separated from his brother. He had known this and loathed it. Like a bird trapped in a cage he would be observed and treated carefully. He would go from a place of darkness to a cage and his wish of ever seeing the sunrise would still not come true. And he would be separated from Malik.
"I've come to accept it."
SLAP.
Mariku didn't even bother to reposition himself as a furious red hand mark was on his left cheek, turning his face to the right.
"How can you say such a thing!" from the tensing muscles he felt next to him and the raise of his voice, Mariku knew that he was crying.
Yet he made no effort to look back at it. The image hurt.
"Because it's the truth."
WHACK.
This time it was his head that had to suffer a blow and Mariku growled low in his throat. Since when had Malik taken it upon himself to act so aggressive? Was he really that upset about him leaving? Just when he was about to turn his face and tell him the truth, that he had been nearly grieving when he had found out, he was tugged by his hair and forced to look straight ahead and not to the side.
Malik had grown silent. Mariku soon found out why.
The beady eyes of his father looked back into his, snarling insults at him that Marik had come to ignore. "Worthless shit! They will be here soon and you better behave!" The wild-haired blonde did not flinch but knew better than to talk back now. He saw Malik flinch beside him as the grip on his hair grew tighter. "Do you understand?"
"Yes." Was all that left his mouth before a company arrived and his father quickly let go of his hair.
Mariku only stared on blankly as Malik blindly searched his hand and squeezed it tightly. Whether this was out of an apology or just reassurance, Marik wasn't certain of it. But he knew that he cared not for both.
Mariku did not expect much but when he looked up and settled his gaze on the man his father talked animatedly to, he couldn't help but be startled. White tresses adorned his head but not neatly no, it looked like it hadn't been combed in ages with the unruly state it was in. Mariku swallowed a chuckle at the two ridiculous horns on top of it. Was this the devil they were trying to sell him to? Perhaps he would have a lot more fun then.
He was dressed in fine robes, a tunic of fine linen with a kilt finishing it. Another thing that gave way to what Mariku assumed to be his wealth, was the jewellery that adorned his wrists and neck. Somehow, he didn't know exactly why, Mariku knew that it was only now that he had them on. To intimidate his father and the rest of them. He shouldn't have bothered in the first place, even a bit of a normal outfit would've been enough to impress tomb keepers never seeing the light.
"Master Bakura." Ah so Bakura was his name hm? Might be good to remember to leer at him. The suck-up voice of his father was already enough to make his skin crawl at the sight of him, all fascination gone.
"Is that him?" the man gazed upon his younger brother, who was now nearly squeezing the life out of his hand but Mariku remained impassive. "No." his father answered him curtly, "It's the other." Other? It seemed as if they were talking more about a slave trade than a – All of a sudden Mariku's eyes grew wide. That was it wasn't it? His father wouldn't talk so disrespectfully of him when they were dealing with a King, this was just a hoodlum!
"Let me see the back."
'Shit shit shit SHIT.' Realization gave way to inner panic and he didn't even notice the question until he was forced onto his knees, facing the wall that he realized just what the man was looking at and what part of him he was touching. "Get OFF me!" The skin was sensitive, he never liked anyone touching this accursed proof of his destiny. The blonde turned around and attempted to slap the white-haired man before that same hand was grabbed and tugged forward.
"Defiance hm?" the man leered, "Or are you just arrogant enough to think I am not allowed to touch you?"
"No you're not allowed to touch me." He hissed back at him as he tried to wrench his arm free from him but failed miserably in the iron grip. This wasn't arrogance from his part, just a mere form of self-defence.
Without even a word the grip only proceeded to tighten but Mariku didn't flinch, the only sound heard was Malik's soft whimpering. He had never been good at seeing his brother suffer, tending to scream for him. He was a fool indeed.
"I'll take him." Mariku didn't like the grin on his face one bit. It spoke of danger and many hidden promises that wouldn't prove to be in the least bit beneficial for him. The older blonde had it all figured out pretty clearly. His father was going to sell him.
"Pay me in full."
And there it was. Even as the Egyptian had already figured out what his fate would look like, it still sent a tremor down his spine at hearing the words spoken out loud. It was one thing to be sent to a Pharaoh's place and live a life of solitude and serve gods you didn't believe in, but slave trade was just a new low. Mariku didn't quite know how to respond as his eyes regarded the gold being transferred to the greedy hands of his father. It would be impossible to curse at him, damn him, because it would all mean nothing.
His whole life Mariku hadn't done what the man wanted. He hadn't cooperated with his 'carvings', had abominated the gods and insulted them and he wasn't ever pleased with his future. That had stung his father pretty badly.
Beady eyes settled upon a head that was his son but there was no affection in them. Instead a cold gaze was directed at Marik's lavender eyes, a smirk painted on his lips. The brat would finally get what was coming to him. No one ever appreciated ungratefulness, that snooty attitude Mariku had all but displayed. Never was he grateful for leaving the tomb where he was left to rot in hell for. The smirk turned into more of a malicious sneer as he considered his son's fate.
The man in front of him was not an ordinary one after all. He was a thief and a murderer, sought over the country and feared by many.
Bakura.
No one knew if this was his last or first name and they need not to know either. That one name was enough to beat fear into the helpless citizens spread all over Egypt.
It was no secret that the man hated the gods.
The lips of the man curled in a smile.
Mariku might have just met his soulmate. If only the man didn't see him as a worshipper of the gods.
NormalAddict First time posting something up of my YGO fanfiction. If you have any notes, comments, critiques or any of the kind please feel free to share. Questions about the plot might not be fully answered as I don't want to spoil it. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!
