Stay with Me
Chapter Two: Call It What You Want
Ryoua sighs, stepping into the water of the Nile, fish swimming away from her tan legs as she went deeper. This part of the Nile no one came to- why? She had no idea. The place was beautiful. Deep orange and brown rocks made almost a wall on her side of the Nile, flowers and trees lining with them; the trees sometimes- if you were lucky- grew fruits on them.
Ryoua hums, waist deep in the water already as she put her hair into a messy ponytail with some spare ribbon she had gathered from her home. She was the daughter- and the only child of theirs left since her brother died a few years ago- of a proud and high ranked noble family. She was well known in the huge city of Egypt because of her family and her beauty. She did not see what all the fuss was about... Ryoua curiously glanced down into the crystal blue water that reflected her image.
Ryoua was tan like every other Egyptian, of course. Her hair being brown and her eyes a deep green; her body was the shape of an hour glass, having all the perfect necessities a woman should have in all the right proportions. But still... Why was she said to be so beautiful? There was nothing special about her. Ryoua ran her hands along her face, pulling her skin back, moving her head from side to side, pushing her bangs out of her face, she did everything to try to see what others saw, but she just could not, although, she did try.
The young woman sighs once more- in her damned sixteen summers she never hated opinions so much, nor had she been so frustrated by them.
Ryoua hurriedly washes herself, knowing that she would need to return home soon, but she reluctantly did so. She rarely got to come here and tried to as often as she could. Ryoua hopes that she would one day run into the other person who visited this place; Ryoua only knew that someone came here because, quite often, remnants of food will be left behind, and, more often than not, it is of the same food, as well. This is why she assumed it to be the same person, and not just a variety of different travelers.
Ryoua waded out of the water slowly, reluctantly slipping back into clothes after she was somewhat dry; the walk back felt much more slow that it did there, which she was particularly fine with, in all honesty.
The young woman hurriedly to a rather large crack in the walls of the city, but not before looking around, up and down, to assure herself that no one saw her. It would probably be much more easier if she just went in through the front gates, although she did not want to risk one of the gate keepers telling Atem that, not only did she leave the palace walls, but she left the palace walls unattended and without his knowledge (more or less, permission).
Ryoua looks around hurriedly once more as she hastily makes her way through the unsurprisingly empty streets; this part of the city was not particularly abandoned, but it might as well be.
"...Marik!"
Ryoua froze at the sound of a voice, stopping every movement completely, not even realizing the name that was said, but instead her thoughts worrying on tedious matters such as the possibility of it being a palace guard doing a ground check, although even if it were, he would not give her a second glance, being the prince's fiance and all.
Her curiosity got the best of her and she slowly turned around, wanting to see the owner of the voice and whom the man was speaking to, but ignored the voice in her head screaming at her not to, to just run away and get home as fast as possible before she was to get in trouble. She reluctantly lifted her eyes away from the ground, searching the area wearily, body stiff, but she shook nonetheless; Ryoua's eyes landed upon a well-muscled man, clinging to a rope suspended from the top of the city's large wall, a man with white hair and translucent grey-blue eyes.
As if he sensed her staring, his eyes met her and visibly froze, which, honestly, surprised her, but he seemed to recognize her and he relaxed before tightening his grip with his left hand and taking his right away from the rope, placing his index finger upon his lips softly, smirking.
With that, he, Bakura, the King of Thieves, and his accomplice, Marik, were gone- up and over the walls in no time at all.
Ryoua stands there for almost half an hour, awestruck and completely frozen, not exactly knowing what to do- mind blank. Slowly, painfully, she begins her walk home on autopilot and ends up home less than a half hour later, pausing at the door. She knew that no one would be there, but her hand refused to push the door open.
Why was she shaking so bad? What the hell was wrong with her?
Ryoua takes a deep breath, holds, and exhales once, twice, three times before she forces herself, her body, her mind, to open the door and walk inside and let her body collapse in a cushioned chair. She buries her face in her hands, taking slow, deep breaths to relax.
After her nerves were calm, it was then she remembered that she was expected to attend a party at the palace that night. This stirred up her nerves again, making her stomach turn uneasily.
Atem would be there, obviously... it was his party, after all.
Ryoua arrived at the palace promptly, being led in by the younger prince, Yugi, who smiled and thanked her for attending; he knew, though, that Ryoua did not exactly actually have a choice in the matter.
Atem was hasty to meet her at the entrance, practically shaking at her arrival from his excitement; although, she was not quite sure why he was so positively excited. He took her hands in his, smiling continuously as he stared in her eyes, seeming to forget that a party was going on at that very moment. It was uncomfortable for Ryoua, who was already beginning to feel suffocated with all the people around her, and not to mention the overbearing feeling of having Atem around, especially so close.
The worst part, perhaps, was that she would end up in his room alone with him. She knew he was not sick enough to break their deal, but he wanted her and he would get as much as he could until it became too much.
Atem then brought his hands up to her face, not so gently cupping her cheeks, whilst brushing the pads of his thumbs against her skin and smiling even wider at her. He is saying something, but Ryoua cannot him because her heart his beating so fast and she feels like she is going to throw up. A server walks by with a tray of what she assumes to be alcoholic drinks, she grabs one from him and quickly gulping it down; first, Atem is surprised by her suddenness, but then he smiles and is swiftly at her side, wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her into the sea of people.
Soon, she's at her fifth drink and Atem is attempting not to laugh at her; what he does not know is that she is trying to forget before she remembers. Ryoua does not wish to wake up in the morning, possibly in his bed, naked, bruised, and positively humiliated, and remember all of it because she did not drink an ounce of alcohol. She hopes this will work. She hopes Atem will get this over with faster so she can leave and go home and not come out of her home for three days afterward.
Unfortunately, Atem does no such thing. In fact, he actually seems to be in a very good mood- socializing, laughing, a soft smile instead of a maniac grin, and he is not constantly sexually harassing her. He dances with her, too, slow and sensual- like he truly and irrevocably cares for her. The uneasiness in her stomach never settles, though, not once. Ryoua keeps her guard up at all times, making sure to never give him the chance to get the better of her.
When dinner is served, Atem steps away from her, smiling a soft smile, but intertwines their fingers.
"Atem?"
He looks up at Ryoua and his eyes soften, smiling a bit wider. "I truly ecstatic you came," he confesses, "I thought, for a moment, that you would not- that you had abandoned our affection."
She forces a smiles, shaking her head. "Of course I came, Atem..."
He sighs, licking his dry lips, before fully stepping away from her and reluctantly letting go of her hands. "You... may leave now."
The words shock her into speechlessness, and it is not until Atem is almost fully into the dining hall that Ryoua realizes what he says. "Atem...?"
He turns, watching her curiously, "Yes?"
"Why?"
Atem shrugs and smiles, before turning his back away from her once more, the doors enveloping him out of her sight.
Ryoua stands there, frozen. No crying? No sexual humiliation? No begging and pleading to stop? Her breath hitches in her chest and for the first time in ages she feels free- she feels like she can be whoever she wants.
The whole time she walks to her home, she is smiling- ridiculously, too. Ryoua lets her hair down and she feels as though she might have the best sleep of her life.
Then, when she is walking into her home, she hears someone hiss her name quietly from the shadows. She tries to ignore it and moves half an inch before the voice hisses just a pitch louder; ever so slowly, she turns around, glancing the area curiously, heart racing, stomach churning.
"Over here, Rye bread," hisses a voice right next to her.
Ryoua nearly jumps out of her skin when she turns to the right of her and is barely an inch away from the translucent eyed Thief King. She curses under her breath, to which she earns a hearty chuckle from him. "What the hell do you want?" How confident she sounds seems to surprise the both of them.
"I need your help."
Her eyebrows raise to her hairline. "You? You need help from me?"
"Yes," Bakura emphasizes the word in order to mock her, standing nearly two feet taller than her, and grinning like a mad man- which he was, "I do."
Ryoua sighs, looking around and running her hand through her hair before finally asking bitterly, "What do you need?"
Bakura grins so widely that she feels she must as well, though she tries her best to not, and he grabs her small hands in his large ones, "Fuck, really, Rye bread? Damn, this is fantastic! I cannot belie-"
"Whoa, whoa, thief. Wait one goddamn second, okay? First of all, I need to know what you want." Ryoua interjects quickly.
Bakura groans, clenching his teeth together. "... I need you to let my men and me to hide out in your home for tonight..."
Ryoua gives him a shocked look, "You think you can come to me, of all the damn people, to ask for something like that?"
He bites his lips and gives her a weak smile, "...Yes?"
She groans, pulling her hands out of his, pushing her bangs off her forehead, thinking. He watched her carefully as she thought, idly playing with the bottom of her skirt until she smacked his hands away with a glare, earning a chuckle from him. Ryoua sighs, feeling as though she might regret her decision later on, "Dammit, fine. Alright, you all can stay in my home-"
Bakura is suddenly picking her up by the hips like she is as light as air, holding her against his chest and twirling them around. "Shit, Rye bread, thanks a ton, I mean, damn. This is really saving my ass right now, you know? I sure as hell owe you for this."
"Just for tonight, right?" Ryoua asks warily, glaring at him, frustrated that he has not put her down yet.
"Not if you wish me to stay longer..." he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and Ryoua must resist with the strongest urge to not smack him. This might be their first official meeting in four years, but he acts as though they were the best of friends. It is actually quite irritating, in Ryoua's opinion. All she wants is to sleep before her migraine sets in once the alcohol wears off. Bakura laughs and sets her down, ruffling her hair, which makes her feel much younger and smaller than she actually is compared to him. They are only five or six years apart, not fifteen or twenty.
Ryoua walks into her home, not waiting for Bakura or for his men before heading to her own bedroom, collapsing on her bedroom and almost immediately falling asleep.