I. Divine Intervention

He hadn't heard these rumors before, ears perking from his table, listening to the village rats spew food from their decaying mouths. Though he were no regular at this particular pub, Akefia had quickly learned that word spread fast, even between miles of desert heat. It was usually the same useless garbage being chattered for months, but this information was definitely new and definitely dangerous.

"I've heard talk of the Prince," the darker skinned of the two men started, voice quiet as one would be able to manage with a mouthful. His body was covered in scars and sores, possibly missing a few fingers.

The other man's eyes squinted in confusion. "What Prince? I wasn't aware Atem had children, Setka."

Akefia knew exactly who he was referring to, despite Atem's adamant attempts at erasing him and his family. It were practically law that even speaking his name, or any name of his line, was punishable by death.

Setka pulled his head in closer to his comrade's, swallowing and speaking quietly. Akefia listened hard, drinking what was left in his cup as though he was completely unaware of the conversation between the decrepit men.

"No, Nebetka, I'm talking about the Prince," he lowered his voice, just above a whisper, "Malik!"

Nebetka's eyes widened, and then a chuckle. "Who has the death wish, Setka? To make up a story like that you have to be a pretty miserable a man. A ghost isn't going to take back Egypt." He leaned back in his chair, a tired poor-man. "Ra is dead."

Setka smiled, laughing under his breath. "Beat down my hope, why don't you. You may have given up on the Gods long ago, but I know. There's going to be an uprising. Our true king will return to us."

Years ago, Akefia had decided none of that truly mattered. Kings and Gods, he didn't care about any of that. He had but one desire, and everything else could go to hell for all he cared. But he couldn't deny this sudden interest in the Prince and the Princess. Setka wasn't the only man in Egypt who believed in their survival. Akefia had heard tales supposedly from the mouths of the old Palace Court; the old slaves, bed servants, messengers. One of the many rumors reported that Malik and Ishizu had escaped Aknamkanon's attack by will of the servants. He imagined the kind of hatred the children of divinity must have felt for Aknamkanon and his tyrant son. Perhaps it equaled his own.

*** I ***

His violet eyes always appeared so cruel, so hateful, an irony to his generally laid back and friendly nature. His wife described him as a desert lion; mane golden with cat-like eyes. Malik always seemed as though he were stalking prey. But that was merely a family trait, though Ishizu were more a stone statue. They had intimidating gazes that you couldn't bring yourself to look away from. They were truly children of divine right. You could see the judgement of the Gods in their stare.

"So, it's finally happening," Malik sighed, desert wind caressing his bronze face. Years it had been, years of hunger and of struggle. Years of training, of meditating, and it was all finally bearing fruit.

Rishid, a tall, dark-skinned man, face mangled from scarification and muscled body beaten by the desert, place one large hand on the boy-Prince's shoulder. He was a man of few words, but you always knew what he was thinking.

His sister nodded, gathering their belongings, preparing their camels for the road ahead. "Yes, finally. You can finally call yourself King, little brother. Or, at the very least, fit to be King."

"As soon as Atem's blood washes over the sand," Merit added, her little hand wiping the sand-dust from her husband's garbs. Her black hair, bangs cut straight, contrasts ice-blue eyes, her figure long and lanky. Merit is the youngest of them, having been almost a tot when Aknamkanon's fire and blade and arrow swept them into this uncertain world they found themselves in.

Malik took Merit's hand, "Do you think it will be so easy to organize this uprising, sister? What if he's instilled so much fear into our people that they refuse disobedience? What sort of hope would we have then?"

"I cannot promise success-only hope. You are the voice of Ra, Malik. You have the golden hair of Ra's Light. You are the true King of Egypt. When you put them against each other, I think the people of this land fear their God more than they fear Atem's blade." Ishizu returned her attention to the camels, Rishid aiding in the process as he took down the tents and wrapped them up for travel.

Malik felt the heat of the sun on his light hair, smelt it and sweat it. In that short instant, he felt Ra's presence in his blood. He felt the heat as though he could set villages ablaze with just a look, a whim of desire. It was in this instant that he could swear the scars on his back were tingling-burning in desperation. Free me. "Yes, you are right, Ishizu. Ra is not dead as they've cried all these years. He is alive, and I feel his anger. He might destroy all of Egypt if anyone should deny his will." It were almost as if Ra were speaking with Malik's mouth.

"Have no doubts, love. Ra will burn Atem to ash and erase his existence. That tyrant has no understanding of the power he's spat on," Merit added, her voice practically pouring admiration for her King and lover. She was growing excited, her fingers shaking with anticipation, arms constantly reaching for her arrows. She had had enough of talking about it; it was time to take action.

*** I ***

It would be a long journey to the Palace, full of blisters, burns, and starvation. The desert was not a hospitable mistress, Akefia knew from several brushes with her. He could take her abuse as he always had, though. For this one desire, he could put up with anything.

He knew darkness better than he knew the desert, and it had always served him well throughout the years. There wasn't a thing in the world off limits to him, nothing he could ever want for, besides freedom of consequence. Of course, law would never understand that he deserved it all. It could never understand what justice was, because law didn't care about true justice. Yes, Akefia hated it all. The cruelty of life, the disillusionment of the Gods, and the insult of hope. There was nothing if you did not take it for yourself. Life was a game of theft. If it wasn't being taken from you, you were taking it from someone else.

And always, was Akefia the thief.

The cold of night began to sweep over the land, and Akefia felt his senses heightening. It was now that he could feel the throbbing on his feet, despite the calluses that had formed there since he was a child. He wouldn't be able to travel the rest of the way by foot, though he wasn't sure that he would find himself crossing paths with travelers any time soon. The next village wasn't for miles, but he suddenly remembered why he hadn't taken a camel from the last village: the men had taken them to the next oasis for trade of goods. Perhaps he would cross paths with a rider sooner than he had expected.

He continued on, ignoring the nagging of his feet. Soon, he would have to set up his, rather laughable, tent to rest. Bitterness and anger had really left him unprepared for this trip, it had occurred to him. He laughed under his breath. "You've really let your heart make a fool of you, Akefia," he spoke to himself, a habit he had started in childhood. The wind picked up, and he could swear the desert was laughing at him.

Just as he was about to put up camp for the night, Akefia saw a light in the not-too-far distance. A flickering light that could only mean a flame. Maybe he would be getting his camel tonight, after all. Maybe she wasn't laughing at him. Maybe she was granting him a blessing.

He ran forward into the dark after that flickering light, watched it grow as he approached. He wondered what kind of blood he might spill tonight. Might there even be some wealth to be found in this meeting? Akefia always found himself a bit excitable on the hunt.

He was now close enough to see the tent-rather large in comparison to the joke that was his own. Their fire roared into the sky, and he could see four people, one man rather tall and well built. It would take stealth to succeed in this robbery. Akefia decided that it a better idea to not cause conflict, knowing full well he did not have the muscle to take on a man of such stature. Not alone, at the very least.

Akefia slid behind one of the tents, surveying the camp quietly. In the light of the fire, he was able to decipher that there were two men and two women, two couples he assumed. One of the women was armed with a bow, and he could see that each of the men had their own swords at their sides. From the sight of it, they were a force to be reckoned with without aid. He would wait until they retired for the evening.

The group went about their night unaware of Akefia's presence, talking amongst themselves round the bonfire. Even being several feet away, the thief could feel the heat emanating from the flames, and he subconsciously leaned towards the warmth of it.

"How many miles until we reach the next village?" the archer asked, her voice quiet and soft. She couldn't be any older than sixteen, Akefia decided. She was long and skinny, not what he would ever describe as curvaceous. She hunched over her knees, fidgeting and clearly unable to manage her youthful energy.

The elder woman replied back with a voice like silk. "We should reach the village before sundown tomorrow, Merit, if we leave before the sun rises." This woman, however, was relatively curvaceous, and more of average height for a woman. She sat properly, legs crossed, and held herself in high regard as though she fancied herself of nobility. "You need to sleep well tonight, Malik. We recruit after supper."

Malik? Akefia almost laughed out loud. What a strange turn of events life had presented him with today. It was almost as if it were some sort of divine intervention, and it was the most laughable thing he could have imagined. Imagine me, stumbling across the beaten Prince and his sister as I prepare to raid the Palace myself. I can't say I don't admire their cause.

Akefia turned his head round the corner of the tent to see the group better. It was hard to tell from where he was, but he thought he saw a young man about his age with golden hair. On that feature alone, it was easy to decipher he was the Prince. Golden hair was the sign of Ra.

He found himself wondering what kind of a man Malik had grown into, what kind of King he would be had he met his victory. What kind of man does a boy become when he's had his divinity stripped of him by a low ranking Court member? He couldn't imagine he would be much different from himself.

There came a nagging of his wrist, and he fell back onto his rear, back falling into the cloth of the tent and knocking what Akefia could only assume were some type of storage pottery against each other. An instant silence hit the group with the shing of swords and the grabbing of a bow following shortly after. This was going to take some skill.

Merit, arrow drawn and ready for fire, began circling the camp, Malik and the taller man following suit in the opposite direction. There was nothing but the sound of footsteps in the sand and the crackling of fire now, and Akefia did all he could to silence his breathing. He had no place to run to, and he couldn't risk entering the tent from behind the sheet wall for fear of being trapped. He could run, but he wasn't so sure he wanted to test Merit's aim.

"See anything, Ishizu?" She shook her head.

From around the tent, he presented himself with hands up, eyes glaring holes in their heads. Their was such an urgency in the situation, with swords and arrow pointed at his head. They waited for some sort of ambush.

"Who are you?" Merit finally asked, pulling back her bow more forcefully.

Akefia smirked, taking a breath. "No one special. Definitely not a friend of the King's."

More silence. The thief began to lower his hands cautiously. "I'm not here for a war, Malik, but I won't stop your pursuit of one." He found himself grinning, fascinated by the whole ordeal.

"Then you don't come from the Palace?" Ishizu asked, deep eyes almost demanding. They matched her brother's eyes. He could almost feel them pulling on his words.

He shook his head. "I wouldn't know anything about divinity." He was grinning almost ferociously by now. He couldn't contain the hysterics of it all. "I definitely wasn't expecting to find myself in the presence of a man second only to the Gods, tonight. But that's beside the point. I'm after the same victory as you… in some light."

Merit began to lower her bow, and the men their swords. "In what way?" Malik asked, his voice youthful, and much like silk as his sister's. It was a handsome voice in its own right. Befitting a young king.

"I want Atem's blood."

Malik took a good look at this man before him. He had hair white as moonlight, dark skin burnt by the ruthless sun, and a scar over his right eye. His eyes looked like they held madness, his smile like it were carved with the power of dragon fangs. Though he claimed to have no connections to nobility, he was decorated with fine jewels around his neck. If not a liar, than a thief. This man was a mystery to proceed with caution.

"Then you'll join our fight?" Malik asked, sheathing his weapon, Rishid doing so in suit.

The man laughed half-heartedly. "I'm not here to start an uprising. I'm here for revenge."

"You can't deny that we could be of use to each other," Ishizu replied, having not once looked away from him.

He raised his brows, his face almost mischievous. "No, I can't. However, I find I like to work alone. I need control. And in the presence of the divine, I have no hope of leadership. It doesn't suit me to be ruled over."

Malik smirked. "As I am now, I am a common man-"

"Malik!" Merit found herself appalled.

He held his hand out, demanding her to control herself. "We are equals."

Akefia laughed. He absolutely could not help it. "I wish I had more than the memory of those words. It's not often a King considers himself an equal to a poor-man, much less a lowly thief!"

Merit wanted to yell at him. She wanted to put him in his place, but what good would that do them now, with a man as stubborn as this? What could they possibly say to him to bring him on their side? Every man counted. Every sword crucial.

"You want blood, I want my throne. If we succeed, you will be generously rewarded," Malik added with control. "As a thief, I assume you enjoy gold and other priceless gems?"

"Of course, my King," he replied, his voice cold but his eyes almost ablaze, "You have me figured out. But do not expect me to die for you. I fight in my name and no one else's."

"Deal."

"We leave before dawn," Ishizu began as if on cue, "It just so happens we have an extra camel, so you're in luck, thief."

They began settling back down around the fire, Akefia hesitant in joining them. "That's what I snuck to your camp for in the first place," he replied with voice gruff and with humor. The five of them were an odd group, he decided. A King and his family in the company of a thief, and somehow, they were all rallying together for the blood of the tyrant. Yes, this could only be the work of divine intervention.

A/N: Oh my goodness! I have been spending all day just trying to get this first chapter written. This fic is one that I've been meaning to get down for quite some time, and it was previously titled Twin Moses, though I grew tired of that name quickly. I'm so excited to get this story going because it's one of my favorite ideas that I've constructed, and the story is already dear to me.

I very much am still a learning writer, and would love any constructive criticism you can offer! I also don't mind inquisitive feedback-feel free to ask me anything about the concept or my original character! (She has actually been featured in another Yu-Gi-Oh! fiction of mine called What You Are)

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoy it!

~Lully