An idea that just came to me as I was falling asleep. Enjoy! (and don't forget to tell me what you think - wink, hint, nudge)
Summery: They killed my parents. They killed my sister. And now I am their slave. But they will never break me. I have vowed revenge, and I never break a promise.
Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! This should be self evident, since this is a work of FAN fiction, but rules are rule.
Not How I Wanted
"Isis. Hear my plea…" The young girl bowed her head and a tear ran down her brown cheek, pausing at the tip of her chin before dropping into the harsh, cold earth.
The young boy beside her gritted his teeth, refusing to let himself cry. His hand toyed with the new blonde crew cut that he found himself wearing. His other hand brushed the dirty bandage on his wrist. Isis. Ha! Isis didn't save my mother, my father, not even my sister – her own priestess. Isis isn't going to save me.
The girl finished her prayer and lifted her head, staring sightlessly at the rough stone wall of the prison she shared with all the new slaves.
"Akila, is that you?"
"Rehema?"
"Yes, it's me…"
"Oh, thank Isis!"
The boy tried to ignore the muffled sounds of reunion coming from the two girls, but they were like a knife, cutting and twisting into his stomach. He put his head on his knees. Thanks, Isis, he thought bitterly. Thanks for nothing.
There was a loud clang, and then the door opened wide, flooding the dank room with bright sunlight.
"Go ahead – take your pick."
"Am I the first?"
"Of course!"
"Huh." A tall thin man with a black goatee entered, followed by a grossly fat man, who bulged out of the shabby white robe he wore.
"Go ahead," repeated the fat man, spreading his hands expansively.
The thin man sniffed in disgust and began to stalk down the rows of prisoners, looking carefully down his nose at every prisoner, studying them. The prisoners drew back when he approached, but he ignored them and kept prowling, right down the centre of the room.
"So?" The fat man waddled after him, signalling to the guards outside to stay put.
The thin man stopped and rolled his eyes. "If you would be so very kind as to allow me a moment or two with these… precious… people, I would be able to tell you." He turned abruptly. "Or would you rather I left now?"
The fat man's head sagged, his neck getting swallowed by his shoulders, his piggy eyes darting to and fro. "No, no." He began to back away. "No, no, take as long as you wish, Lord Gahiji."
"I will." Lord Gahiji turned and continued his prowl. Suddenly, he darted to the left and dragged a woman into the light. The woman cowered before him, her long black hair falling over her face. With a casual flick of his wrist, he swept her hair aside and examined her face. He nodded, and let go of her wrist.
A man with a pointed nose and a notebook stepped out of the darkness and darted to where she sat, taking note of the number on the tag around her neck and disappearing again.
This happened again and again, and the list on the notebook grew longer and longer. Sometimes, Lord Gahiji would pull someone from the crowd and shake his head, and then the man with the notebook would stay locked in the shadows, and the person would scrambled thankfully back into his place.
"Look here, Mensah. A matched pair." Lord Gahiji laughed a short, sharp, barking laugh. "I would never have expected such quality in your stock."
"Yes, my Lord." Mensah scowled at the thin man's back and absently scratched the side of his doughy face. He would be glad to get to the market, where buyers treated him with respect. Not like these noble types, who seemed to think that they were better than him. He'd just like to see them get their own slaves. Then we'd see who was better.
The nobleman was reaching out for the girls, who were trying to escape his grasp, pressing themselves right against the wall. His fingers gripped Akila's upper arm, and drew her out. "How many have I got, Akil?"
Akil emerged from the shadows, notebook in hand, and bowed perfunctorily. "One hundred and forty nine, my Lord."
"What a pity." Lord Gahiji shrugged. "Ah, well. I shall only take one, then. This one seems to be – "
"No!" Rehema's anguished cry echoed around the suddenly deathly quiet room.
"Excuse me?" Lord Gahiji raised an eyebrow.
"Didn't you hear her?" snapped the boy, looking up with angry eyes. He wasn't quite sure what had caused him to speak his thought, but he was past caring what happened to him. "She said 'no'."
"Oh, really?" The noble seemed amused.
"Yes, really? There something wrong with your ears, mister?"
In one swift movement, Lord Gahiji let go of Akila and grabbed the boy, lifting him to eyelevel. "You," he said, quietly and deliberately. "May call me Lord Gahiji."
The boy squirmed, trying to free himself, and avoiding the nobleman's eyes.
"I like this one," said the nobleman, smiling and holding the boy at arm's length. "He has spirit."
"Yes, my Lord." Akil appeared at his side, apparently not needing to move through the space in between, and taking note of the number on the boy's tag.
"That will be all, Mensah."
"Come, let us settle the bill in a civilized place," said Mensah, turning and waddling to the door.
As Akil exited after Lord Gahiji, regarding the slaves with jaded eyes that held only vague pity, the door swung shut. There was a clang as the bolt was shoved home, and the whole room relaxed in the forgiving darkness.
"Hey…"
The boy turned at the tap on his shoulder to see Rehema sitting behind him, a strange look on her face. "Yes?"
"You… you saved my sister. Thank you."
"It was nothing." The boy reached up and shoved his fingers through his short hair, embarrassed.
"I saw what happened earlier." Rehema looked at her feet. "You were very brave."
"Yes, well…"
"They had no right to cut it all off." Rehema fingered her own short black locks.
"Well, they did."
"Where are your family?"
"Dead." He didn't feel like going back to that memory, not now anyway.
Rehema gasped. "I'm so sorry!"
"I don't need your pity."
"Oh…" Rehema searched for something to say. "Uh… I'm Rehema. What's your name?"
"My name? Why?"
"I…" Rehema looked slightly embarrassed. "I want to pray for you."
"To?" he asked brusquely, looking away.
"Oh, I don't know… Isis, I suppose."
The boy laughed, a horrible, mirthless laugh.
"And to Khensu. He was our village's protector."
"And you still worship him? After all that has happened?"
"Of course. He will protect us still. As long as the moon is in the sky."
"Very well…" The boy leaned against the wall, staring into the darkness with unseeing eyes. "My name is Marik."
There it is... the first chapter. What did you think?