I'm back! I'm sooooooooooo sorry it took so long to update. School and stuff. Sucks. Anyways! New chappie! Yay! Well, this one STARTS out happy, at least…
Bastet: Finally!
… and ends depressing with Bakura being severely injured.
Bastet: *facepalm*
Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaah… so anyways! Moving on! I still don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, yadda yadda, all I own is the fluffy plot bunny for this story. Enjoy!
The image of the dead man stalked my dreams and haunted my mind even in the waking world. My arms felt like lead when I did my work, my mind felt like it was stuffed with cloth, wrapped tightly like a mummified corpse with no room for movement.
The young pharaoh noticed. He mentioned nothing of it, but I saw it in his face, the way he spoke to me, the looks he cast my way when he thought I wouldn't notice. He tried to cheer me up as best he could, and sometimes it worked. His enthusiasm was infectious, impossible to resist.
On one day, a particularly gorgeous day, the prince found me working in the palace. "Come on, Kura!" he said, pulling on my arm and trying to drag me out of the room. "Let's go out!"
I frowned, resisting his efforts. "What?"
He shifted from foot to foot impatiently, still holding firmly to my wrist. "Father told me I could go out riding, outside the palace, but only if you and Mahad come with me. Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease, Kura? It'll be fun, promise!"
I opened my mouth to refuse, to protest that I had work to do, but he was looking at me with enormous pleading puppy eyes. "That's not fair!" I protested. No one could resist the prince when he did that. "You can't do that! That's cheating!"
The prince jumped up with a grin and a little clap, letting go of my arm. "Good! That means yes, right?" He didn't wait for an answer before he grabbed my hand, practically dragging me to the stables.
Mahad was already there, atop a black stallion, awaiting us calmly. I glanced around. "But I don't have a horse…" I pointed out, standing off to the side awkwardly as the pharaoh mounted a white mare.
"Take that one," he said, indicating a silver horse. I swung myself up onto the horse's back.
Almost before I had touched the horse, the pharaoh shot off, leaving Mahad and me in the dust.
"Slow down!" Mahad called, kicking his horse's side, forcing to into a gallop. I did the same, and nearly fell off backwards as the horse shot forward, only managing to stay on by grabbing a tight fistful of the horse's long white mane.
We streaked off into the surrounding desert, following the pharaoh. Mahad and I finally caught up to the younger boy, all horses at a gallop.
The young prince laughed, exhilarated. "Let's play a game!" he cried. "I'll be a criminal, and you two are soldiers! You have to catch me!"
Mahad and I exchanged a glance. "I'm not sure if your father—" Mahad began, but was cut off by a shout of "GO!" from the young pharaoh. The boy dug his heels into the horse's ribs, urging it forward at an even faster pace.
Mahad and I raced after him on instinct, without thinking, flying like the wind. I looked at Mahad and we both understood what the other was thinking, without saying a word. I split off to the right; Mahad to the left. I wore a grin on my face as we rode; finally, I felt free.
I don't remember much of what happened next, but the pharaoh told me enough.
From what Mahad said, my horse's ankle twisted as it turned, bringing to down. I started to fall before the beast did, and it was because of that that the horse's sharp hoof came down onto my leg, striking it a glancing blow.
There was a sickening, blinding flash of agony, the horrible sound of flesh ripping, Mahad and the pharaoh crying out in surprise and fear…. Then everything went black.
~/~/~
Feverish dreams and haunting nightmares daunted my sleep. In my delirium, I don't know how long I was unconscious. It could have been hours, it could have been days. The pharaoh said that I muttered things in my sleep, but I don't remember saying any of them.
The first thing I was aware of when I finally woke, before I even opened my eyes, was a searing blaze of agony in my right thigh.
I slowly opened my eyes, blinking several times in an attempt to make out the blurry face leaning over me. Gradually, the young pharaoh's anxious face came into focus, barely a foot from mine. As it did, he cried out. "He's awake! Nishiri! Nishiri! He's awake! He's going to be okay!"
Before I could really register what the hell was going on, the wind was compressed out of my lungs as the prince flung his arms around my chest, crushing me into a bear-hug. I swear I felt my ribs crack.
"I'm so sorry, Kura, I'm sorry, this is all my fault, I'm so sorry…" He repeated it like a mantra, some sort of chant. He pulled back from me, and I saw that his eyes were wet.
"What's your fault?" I asked, still dazed and disoriented. "What happened?"
Again, the pain flared in my right leg. I threw back the ragged blanket from my legs and shimmied the skirt up my thighs to inspect the source of the pain.
The pharaoh reached desperately for my wrists, trying to stop me. "No, Kura, don't—"
It was too late.
I had already seen it.
Already seen the stained white cloth that staunched the wound on my thigh, the dark red stain that permeated the fabric.
The moment I laid eyes on the wound, the pain intensified tenfold. I let out a cry of shock and pain.
"You… you fell off the horse…" the boy explained softly, his voice faltering. "I mean, it's a miracle, really, that you didn't break your leg. The horse's hoof, it… well…" His voice trailed off as his eyes followed mine to the bloody dressing on my leg.
I yanked my skirt back down, not wanting to look at it anymore. If it was that bad with the bandage… I definitely didn't want to know what the actual wound looked like.
I pressed the heels of my palms to my forehead, registering in some part of my mind that my skin was cold, covered with a sheen of sweat.
I felt a hesitant hand on my shoulder and lifted my face, my eyes meeting with the pharaoh's. "I'm so sorry, Kura, I—" he began, but I cut him off.
"It's not…" My voice was trembled. I cleared my throat weakly and tried again. "It's not your fault."
He shook his head. "But it is! This wouldn't have happened if I hadn't asked you to come with me, if I hadn't suggested that game, if I hadn't—"
I interrupted, managing a small smile. "Yes, and if I hadn't agreed to go riding, if I hadn't turned when I did, if I hadn't gone so fast, then this wouldn't have happened," I pointed out. "It's as much my fault as anyone else's."
His hand had dropped from my shoulder and was resting in his lap, his head bowed and his eyes downcast. Now it was my turn to place a hand on his shoulder, me comforting him instead of him comforting me. "I don't blame you for this."
He looked up, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears. He sniffled and wiped his eyes. "R-really?"
I nodded. "Of course. Brothers always forgive each other, don't they?"
He smiled, a weak little smile. "Yes." He reached forward and hugged me again.
At that moment, the pain throbbing through my mind didn't matter. All that did matter was that we were both here, together. I had my friend, my brother.
But all good things cannot last.
They never last.
Even at that young age, I think I knew that. I did not want to know it. I denied it, pushed it from my mind. Yet I still knew it.
And bear in mind, this is not where my story ends. They lived happily ever after, right?
Wrong.
That is only in the fairy tales, not ever in real life.
I faced the days to come with a certainty that naught could go wrong, as long as the pharaoh was by my side.
How blissfully wrong I was.
Bastet: You killed it.
What?
Bastet: It was a cute brotherly moment. Aaaaaaaaaaand ya killed it.
Yeah, well… sorry. :( I just can't write happy things. It's a handicap. Anyways, R&R? Pwease? Free spritz cookies for those who do!