'… maybe I should have said something like that earlier. Oh, and by the way…'
'Tell me and tell me now! Where is he hiding? There is no way you will survive this you know. Your chances of winning are 000.1%!' The white haired thief laughed as the whip he held clashed with the body of the priest in front of him, fully enjoying the screams the Pharaoh's most loyal man let out. Bakura desperately hoped the brunet would spill the information needed, but he couldn't let him know, for the priest would be a real trouble if he knew how valuable he was. 'Where is he? Tell me!' There was almost no more room for laughter as frustration and utter hatred consumed the thief's mind and soul more by the second.
For a moment, he stopped swinging away at the priest and during that moment; the only thing the white haired one could hear was the sound of shackles. Shackles he had put on the priest himself. How in the world did he still have strength to move? It had been three full days of torture, most of his victims would be done for within those three days, the priest had gained more scars than he could ever count. From whipping to burning and from cutting to water torture, the thief had tried it all.
'I will never tell you whatever it is you want to know.' It was good the thief had been completely still, because the priest was bearably hearable. As he slowly rose from his knees, a smirk appeared on his face. 'What was it again you wanted? I didn't really listen the first ten times.' While the priest laughed as he said it, the thief took a step back and the let the whip fall on the ground. Those determined eyes, that smirk, that arrogance; even with a scarred face like that. How could he still smile at a time like this? Had he lost it?
'What is wrong with you?' As he reached for his pocket, it was clear the thief didn't understand, but neither did Seth himself. He shouldn't have had the strength to stand up and he shouldn't have had the guts to go against Bakura when he was clearly in the worst position. Still, he lifted his head one more time and spoke with an even softer voice than he did before. 'I am the wielder of the Millennium Rod, the Pharaoh's most loyal priest and I shall never turn my back on him, even if it means me dying to protect him.' The thief hissed upon those words and lifted the knife he had just grabbed. His words were cold like the knife's steel, but still, they were the only reason Seth could end his suffering. 'Do you have some last words for your beloved Pharaoh?' The smirk had shifted to Bakura and as soon as the cold steel touched the warm body, the priest could feel his consciousness fading. The feeling he had tried to suppress for three days had finally crept up on him. This was how a dying man felt.
There had been times when Seth had thought about scenarios like this one. A divine punishment, all because he had never been honest with his feelings, because he hadn't even once told his nephew that he loved him. Maybe that sort of informality was uncommon, but the priest was sure his Pharaoh would have accepted those words. 'I love you.' The priest couldn't do more than whisper at this point. 'What was that?' Bakura laughed mockingly as he put his hand to his ear, even though he had heard those three words very clearly. The priest sighed though, ready to repeat his final message that would give him closure on one of the biggest regrets of his life, and also bring him victory in his final fight against the thief.
'Tell him I love him and that maybe I should have said something like that earlier. Oh, and by the way, you lose. Too bad you let me have my little moment, now there is no more time for me to tell you what you so desperately need. Too bad, scum, I win. 000.1%, right?'
~ The End