Authors Note:

I am still lying at home with a locked back and, though I'm surprised to admit it, I really miss work...

Right as I said this chapter is actually the second half of the previous chapter. Hopefully it will be strong enough to hold its own.

I think I have discovered a character I truly click with. I have always adored Ryo and Bakura, I can really understand Bakura's logic, and I secretly rooted for him when he stormed the palace in the Millennium World saga.

Anyway, this chapter is really just an attempt to link what I have already written to the Millennium World saga. Wish me luck...

Disclaimer:

Okay. If I owned Yu-Gi-Oh! I would not be posting fiction on a free site...

Warning...

There is a little sex in this chapter. Nothing overly graphic, but it is more graphic than anything I have written previously.

Of Kings And Thieves.

He was numb as he pushed the hut door open and quietly slipped inside.

"Is that you lad?" Mahet, Rahemu's wife, called from the huts cooking nook.

He staggered toward her voice, tottering and swaying as though he'd never known legs before, unaware of his surroundings. Stumbling over a mound of cushions, he threw his foot out awkwardly, almost stepping in the nursing mother cat lying in the middle of the floor with her kittens. She lifted her head and pulled her ears flat to her skull, hissing a warning at him.

Grasping the alcove in the little hut's wall, Bakura sagged flat to the wall, his head hanging limply to his chest. Mahet turned away from the hunk of meat she had been salting and uttered a cry when she saw the boy, holding himself upright by leaning against the wall. Black mud coated his body and matted the usually gleaming pale hair. Blood mingled with the mud as it dribbled down his chest.

Gathering her shirts, the woman rushed forward, shrieking as she folded the boy into her arms. "RAHEMU!"

As the arms tightened around him, Bakura's knees finally gave out beneath him and they both sank to the floor. "What happened? Are you hurt?" she fussed and used the hem of her skirt to wrap around him as he shivered, the shock finally wearing off. "Where is that man? RAHEMU!!"

Bakura shook his head mutely and buried himself into her arms, fighting back tears. He wouldn't cry. He hadn't cried since he was a tiny child and he'd be damned if he started again now. Mahet could feel the tiny quivers in his muscles as they held back his fear and grief, and she rocked him in her arms as she had done when he had been small, her face crushed to the mud caked strands.

Finally, the door burst open and Rahemu slammed through. He had aged well over the years. His golden eyes darkened and his face twisted in anxiety as he stared down at the woman cradling the boy in her arms. "Mahet," he said, his voice calm as he attempted to cover his own concerns and he dropped to his knees beside her. "What happened?"

"I don't know." she wailed softly and lifted her face, mud streaking her cheek. "He will not speak."

Rahemu gripped Bakura's chin in his hand and easily lifted the boys head, surprised that he didn't struggle. He tried to meet the boys gaze, but the eyes were held downcast. He lacked the usual feisty and devilish character that he was known for in the village, and it tore at Rahemu's heart to see him sitting as a mere ghost of his former self. "Tell me what happened, lad."

Bakura's lips twitched as though he were about to speak, then his lids closed and he turned his head away. Rahemu growled in frustration, he jerked his hand away and the boys head dropped and inch. "We can not offer you help if you will not speak to us!" he growled and stared hard at his face for a few moments more. When the child still refused to speak, he chuffed. He pushed himself to his feet and walked out of the hut, the door slamming behind him.

Mahet carefully combed her fingers through his long hair, tugging the knots and tangles and mud out. The door burst open again. Rahemu had returned. In his hands, he carried a full bucket of water. "Move, Mahet!" he said firmly. The moment the woman had moved away from the child, Rahemu swung the bucket, dumping the cold water over the boy.

It felt like thousands of tiny daggers pricked at his skin as the ice pellets hit his body and Bakura howled in surprise, swinging a glare at the man.

"Stand up!"

Dragging himself to his feet and clenching his teeth to prevent them chattering, Bakura shivered with cold. Rahemu handed the bucket to Mahet and murmured for her to fetch a second bucketful. She nodded and turned, leaving the two men alone.

"Now," the man said. His voice, harsh and authoritative, as he threw a cloth to the boy. "Clean yourself up."

Wordlessly, Bakura began wiping the mud from his arms as Rahemu watched him with eyes of honey gold, only turning away when Mahet returned with the second bucket of water. "Now will you speak?"

Bakura ignored the question and continued scrubbing the mud from his body, moving onto his chest. He didn't make a sound this time as the water hit, though it was no warmer than before.

Again Rahemu handed the empty bucket to Mahet and dismissed her. And the whole cycle was repeated until Bakura was clean. Bakura wrapped his arms around his chest and shivered uncontrollably his teeth chattering despite being clamped together, hard. Blood dribbled from the paper thin slice at the base of his throat and down his chest. The bruises on his face, where Kajan had held him so tightly, had darkened.

Mahet let out a sobbing gasp and moved as though to run to the boy. Rahemu placed an arm out and held her back. She glanced up at her husband, tears shining in her eyes as he shook his head and she fell back. He fixed the boy with a hard glare, and the child matched it. Stalking to where Bakura stood, Rahemu grasped his bicep roughly and propelled the dripping boy into the cooking nook. He forced him to stand in front of the fire as he inspected the injuries.

"A man did this." He said bluntly. He spanned his hand over the bruises on the face to confirm it.

Bakura nodded.

"Well, no real harm done."

Bakura glared at the man in silent fuming. "No harm?"

Rahemu paused in false shock and fed more kindling into the fire. "So you can use your tongue still."

"No harm done?" The voice cracked under the strain of emotion.

"You are still breathing aren't you?"

"Barely." Bakura growled. "He tried to kill me."

"My, my." Rahemu tsked.

"The man tried to kill me, and you don't care."

"He tried to kill you with a few bruises and a shallow cut?"

Bakura turned and glared. "No. He tried to drown me."

"Positively chatty now aren't you?" The man smirked in triumph and found a folded tunic of his.

The boy clamped his mouth shut and flushed. Rahemu had tricked the information out of him, and he had done so very easily.

"So you had a bit of a brawl did you?" he tugged the over-sized tunic over the boys head, covering his nakedness and attempting to warm him. "And with a man no less." There was no hiding the hint of pride in his voice. "You know, you really had Mahet ups-"

"I killed him."

Rahemu paused and stared directly into those big rusted eyes and frowned. "You killed him? For a few minor injuries?"

"He tried to drown me!" Bakura repeated in a desperate and insistent tone. Clutching the mans tunic and tugging, he willed Rahemu to understand. "He tried to drown me and said he knew me from the attack. He attacked my home the night you found me. He called me a little thief boy!" the words tumbled out of his mouth so quickly that they blurred together. "He killed my mother and destroyed Kul Elna at Pharaoh's demand!"

"Kul Elna? The Village of the dead? You're a Kul Elna thief?"

Bakura growled in vague annoyance. "I have already said that." then his eyes hardened and Rahemu saw something dark and powerful awaken inside the boy. "I have found those who wittingly ordered the deaths of my people. I want vengeance. For every hurt and betrayal, I shall repay them tenfold. Pharaoh shall-"

"Hush!" Rahemu snapped. "Hold your tongue. To speak against Pharaoh is treason, punishable by death."

"But... You would not allow that, would you Rahemu?" Bakura pleaded, the darkness behind his eyes quickly vanished, and, he was a child once more. "You would not allow the soldiers to take me away?"

Rahemu paused, then shook his head slowly, his face drawn tight. "No," he breathed. "But somethings, even I cannot change, should someone overhear you making threats against this lands God-King." Then he paused and murmured. "If Pharaoh falls, Egypt would stand as a child without a father to guide it. Then the double crown falls to the next in the Royal line." he glanced to Bakura and he pulled his lips away from his teeth in a vicious smile. "Pharaoh is old and the Prince is a child still... And you are sorely in need of training if you are to extract your revenge." he paused again, deep in thought.

"You will help me?"

Rahemu nodded. "Let us see if I can keep you alive long enough to fulfill your vow."

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Ahnett trembled with a mixture of anticipation and the chill of the night air. She reclined on the couch and gazed at the young man, stood across the room from her. He was young, in his late teens,. Strong and exotically beautiful. He had caused quite a stir of excitement amongst the dancing girls in the Harlem where she worked her trade. He often came into the brothel where he would select a quiet corner in which he ate, drank, and watched the girls before leaving, never selecting a girl to accompany him.

From her position on the couch, she watched him shrug his robe from his hard shoulders and she secretly marveled his lean and lithe build. Her breath caught in her throat when he turned to face her, his upper body littered with tiny silver scars. He was a warrior. She squirmed in excitement and shifted to allow him room on the couch beside her as he kicked off his kilt.

She ran her hands over his shoulders and down his chest to his belly, where she stroked her fingers in small circles. He gently mouthed her throat, she was so lost in the movement of his mouth upon her soft, pale skin, she barely noticed the hand placed over her small breast, teasing the nipple out between thumb and forefinger. She whimpered softly responding to the skillful fingers, and turned her face to his, her mouth pressed to his mouth and his tongue quested against her lips. His touch was gentle yet firm, so unlike the rough touch of the usual men who sought out a dancing girls company.

When he finally knelt over her, Ahnett arched her small and slim body almost in half, her belly pressed to his and she could feel him trapped against her thigh. He laughed a soft breathy chuckle from somewhere above her. Again she pushed up to him and this time he responded, rocking his hips down to hers in a rhythm. His voice chuckled through her breast where he had now settled and suckled. She growled in frustration and altered the angle of her hips. He flew deep into her, his hips flat to hers.

She whimpered and writhed as she lay pinned beneath him, unable to do anything except cling to him and ride out his strokes that alternated in depth and speed. Despite his youth, she was obviously not his first. Above her, his eyes slid to slits and the pink tip of his tongue, caught between his teeth, showed as he measured her breaths, tracking it's rise and fall. His hand abandoned her breast and rummaged with his discarded clothing, while his other slid beneath her neck and cupped the back of her head.

She could hear his own breathing above her grow more ragged, his strokes grew more and more erratic. Drawing his hands from their previous positions, he clutched the cushions beneath her head. Then his back curved gracefully, driving his hips flat to hers and forcing her deeper into the soft couch. His head thrown back in a cry aimed at the heavens, as warmth flooded her.

Slowly he lowered his head to her, his mouth pressed hard to her lips and the tip of his tongue flicking, quick as a snakes, against hers.

Ahnett stiffened briefly. Had she seen that cold darkness behind the warm russet in his eyes? Was there something cruel and deadly behind these lips and touches? He must have sensed her doubt as he drew a hand up behind her head once more and deepened the kiss even more so. Calming her and soothing away her fears. Melting back into the warm, gentle probing in her mouth, she disregarded her concerns and her lids slid shut...

The mouth pulled away and before she could protest, she felt icy fingers of pain grip her mind as something pricked and slid deeply into her head, behind her left ear. The sickly notion of fear settled in her stomach and she fought, kicking up at him as he clapped a hand over her mouth and sneered, twisting the thin blade in her temple.

The last thing she saw was the cold, killing light blaze in his rusted eyes and those lips curl on his scarred face.

And then, the dancing girl, Ahnett, was dead.

Bakura rolled from the body lying on the couch and snatched up his clothing. Dressing quickly, he sat astride the windowsill and shouted as loudly as he could into the night. "MURDER!" Grinning he cast one last look at the dead girl. It was a pity she had to die, she had been fun and he had enjoyed her uses, but she was of more use to him in this state.

Dropping from the sill, he rolled and pushed up into a run as he hit the ground. He could already hear the soldiers racing to where his call had been. Darting down a darkened ally he mentally tallied his victims so far.

Eight young dancing girls. A message that the common folk were not safe. And three royal guards. A message that even the young Pharaoh was also fair game. Each killed within one week. Surely the boy-King would take notice now...

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Yay, for sex. lol. Well I don't think Ahnett would agree with me there.

Just a quick FYI, at the beginning of the chappy both Bakura and Atem were twelve... at the whole dancing girl sex/murder scene, Bakura is about sixteen. He has been in training with Rahemu.

Any hoo. Please review.

Stay Smexy. xXx